No Flowers Required (18 page)

If he ever left.

“This isn’t over,” he bit off finally, stalking into the back room. Then he walked past her and out the door, slamming it with a cheery tinkle of bells that signaled the final curtain on what was supposed to be the best night of her life.

Chapter Ten

“You make a piss-poor drunk.”

“Yeah, well, you’re ugly.”

That established, Dillon and Cory bent their elbows at the same time and drank.

Cory slapped down enough money to pay for another round of beer. Shady’s Pub might not have much going for it, atmosphere-wise, but the brew was ice-cold. After a few beers and a lot of moping, he even kind of liked the place.

“If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t be here,” Dillon mumbled, though he’d already said as much several times before. Easier to keep talking so his misery had no chance to fill his head as it had his heart. If he breathed in too deep, his chest ached. “You caused all of this.” Definitely not all, but his drunk brain insisted his brother was to blame for taxes, death, and everything in between.

“Lex’s delinquent. Not my fault she hates me. Also not my fault that Met—” Cory stopped, shook his head. “That Melinda isn’t interested in me.”

“What?” Dillon stared. In the blue-washed light of the bar, Cory looked drunk and morose. And
unkempt
. His hair stuck straight up and his tie hung limply, as if he’d tried to undo it and failed. “You’re serious?”

“Yes, well, she’d be perfect to attend events with, but she’s dating someone. Then Victoria told me Melinda would never date me because I don’t know how to have fun.” Cory banged his bottle. “That’s crazy. Look at me now. Fun all over.”

“Oh yeah.” Dillon laughed. Croaked really, but it was something.

When he’d left Divine, he’d been sure he wouldn’t laugh again for a very long time. If ever. He’d headed to Cory’s office, intent on reading him the riot act for everything he could think of, when his brother had called and asked to meet at Shady’s. That was an extremely unusual move for Cory, odd enough Dillon had been compelled to say yes.

It had been a very long time since they’d had a drink together. And they were both pathetically single and obviously destined to remain that way for a while.

“Actually, I’m fun personified.” Cory downed more beer. “I signed up to get my chakra read.”

“What?”

“Dontcha know what a chakra is?”

“Sounds like New Agey mumbo to me.” Dillon uncapped his next brew.

“I even had yogurt and granola for breakfast today. On. A. Whim.” Why Cory imparted that with such weighty significance, Dillon had no clue. “Do you know how long I’ve had Wheaties with skim milk, a glass of OJ, and a cup of black decaf for breakfast? Years, my friend.
Years
.”

“I’m not your friend.”

“No kidding. Most of the time you won’t even speak to me. Now I know why you’ve been crawling up my ass lately.” Cory’s charcoal eyes gleamed with unholy amusement. Combined with the sickly cast of his skin from the blue lights, he rather resembled a demented, well-dressed Smurf. “Think I’m gonna let her go scot-free because you wanna bone her?”

Dillon faced front and center, his gaze lasering in on a Rolling Stones poster on the wall. But all he could see were Alexa’s stricken eyes.

“You’re drunk.” Truth be told, they were both soused. Neither drank much as a rule, and clearly they both sought to abandon their mental faculties as fast as humanly possible.

“Am not.”

“Are so. You never use the word ‘boned.’ Normally you call sex ‘intercourse.’ Never even heard you use slang before. So…drunk.”

“Fuck off.”

Dillon tipped back his beer. “Why don’t you ask out Vick? She’d be way more interesting than Mel.”

“I told you, she’s too young. Practically a child. She’s as fun as a hurricane. Or an ingrown toenail.”

Dillon croaked out another semi-laugh. “That’s lame.”

“No lamer than you being in love with Lex.” Cory smiled at him around the mouth of his beer. “She’ll never want you because of me. She hates me.”

His chest had gone tight in direct contrast to his suddenly spongy brain cells. “Yeah, I gathered that. So I lied like a moron. I
am
a moron.”

“No arguments.”

He laughed until his jaw throbbed. It was better than banging his head against the bar until he passed out, the only other option on the table. “See why I don’t spend more time with you?”

Cory’s pause made him glance over in silent question. “You used to like me.”

He had, a long time ago. Before sibling rivalry had become the sibling feud from hell. As the years passed, his best friend had turned into his biggest competition—and worse, there was no competing with Cory. He got straight As and had never wavered for a second on his plan for his life. He’d also accepted his role in the business with the zeal of a nerd snapping on his pencil protector. So Dillon had stopped trying to compete, instead choosing to play to his own strengths: enjoying women who enjoyed him right back and rebelling against everything Cory stood for.

Even when what he stood for was exactly what Dillon embraced as well, despite their different approaches.

Working with Alexa—and becoming excited again about marketing and business plans and all the stuff he’d labeled as “pencil pushing” in his mind—had reinvigorated his love of the other side of the desk. He wasn’t taking a more active role in the company just because he had to. He
wanted
to.

“I’m back now,” Dillon said quietly. “I’m in, one hundred percent.”

And this time, he’d make sure they did things right, with a joint focus toward profit and helping smaller businesses thrive whenever possible. He wouldn’t skirt the fringes any longer. The only way to ensure that Cory didn’t lose sight of the trees in the forest was to keep drilling the branches into his damn brain.

“With the business?” Cory’s voice lowered. “Or being my brother?”

Guilt flared on the back of Dillon’s tongue, and the beer suddenly tasted sour. “Both. You can count on me.”

Cory slanted him a measuring look, then nodded and sipped his drink.

“Since I have lost time to make up for on the brotherly score, you might want to know the ’rents are on the warpath. Since they’re gearing up for retirement, once they have more free time their concerns about your lack of a social life are gonna take precedence. Big-time.”

“I have a social life,” Cory muttered.

Dillon ground the heel of his hand against his suddenly throbbing left eye. Suddenly the place felt like the inside of a toaster oven. “Your right hand doesn’t count.”

Ignoring him, Cory looked down at the tool belt Dillon had tossed on the stool between them. “What the hell’s this?” He withdrew a purple item from one of the pockets and held it up to the light.

Dillon blinked. What looked like tiny butterfly wings extended from the middle of the cylinder, and the rest of the shaft had ridges like a potato chip. He frowned. Or like a—

“Nice vibe.” Bobby the bartender smirked as he circled his rag over the bar. “Big plans?”

Cory dropped the vibrator as if he’d learned it was a live nuclear reactor. “That’s not mine.”

Bobby nodded understandingly. “His?” he asked, jerking his chin at Dillon, who’d snatched up the toy and already put it away. Well, back in his tool belt. His brother touching Alexa’s…pleasure tools seemed way wrong. At least he assumed it was hers. Who else’s could it be?

“Never leave home without it,” Dillon said somberly.

Once Bobby gave them the thumbs-up sign and moved on, Cory leaned closer. “She’s plying you with sex toys?”

“She was,” he said, unable to elaborate. Even thinking about what had happened at Divine made him want to rip the bar out of the wall.
He’d
done this. Not Cory. His stupid ideas and schemes had landed his ass in this very spot, and damn if it didn’t hurt.

More than anything ever had.

“Lucky bastard. By the way, just so you know—the Taste of Froot thing’s not happening.”

“No?” Dillon couldn’t claim to be displeased. Maybe now Cory would find other kittens to kick than Divine. Though he’d never think of Alexa as a kitten. She was too strong and independent. Too utterly capable of taking care of herself.

And how, judging from the accoutrements he’d just discovered.

“Too bad,” Dillon added when Cory didn’t respond.

“Victoria’s ecstatic. She doesn’t want me anywhere near her sister.” Cory’s scowl deepened. “A fact she’s made no effort to hide.”

“’Cause she wants to do you herself.” Dillon saluted Cory with his beer when he cast sharp eyes in Dillon’s direction. “It’s plain as fucking day, man.”

“You’re nuts.”

“You never use yours. Otherwise you’d see what’s in front of you. She’s hot.”

One eyebrow poised to leap off Cory’s forehead. “
Victoria
?”

“You don’t find her even a little attractive?”

The blue spread into a faint purple tinge at Cory’s hairline. “Well, of course, she’s attractive.” His eyes glazed like a sheet of ice. “But hot? No.”

Dillon grinned. Yep. Doth man protest way too much, even with doth beer.

“You’re having too much sex. It’s clouding your judgment.”

Not anymore
. “Is there such a thing?” Dillon shouted over the sudden uptick in the music.

“Sex? It’s been over a year for me.” Cory lifted his voice. “
Over a year
.”

The music cut out again just as Cory made his declaration. The words echoed across the bar, as if he’d shouted them. Judging from the ringing in Dillon’s ear, he had.

The music shuddered back on with a screech and a pulse of sound. Dillon shook his head. “‘Splains a lot, if you ask me.”

“I’m not,” Cory snapped, managing to close his mouth as conversations resumed around them. “Asking you.”

Dillon shrugged. He had his own problems.

“Are you going to ask her to the benefit?”

Dillon stared into his beer. “I already did,” he said finally.

“They’re going to give you an award, you know.”

“For what?” Dillon snapped.

“You’re always busting your ass for that charity. How many houses have you rehabbed this year?”

“A lot. But—”

“But nothing. You deserve the recognition.”

“Recognition’s the last thing I want right now,” Dillon said under his breath.

After tonight’s spectacular fail, he didn’t give a shit about the benefit. He’d hurt Alexa when all he’d wanted was to help her, so what the hell made him qualified to help anyone else?

He couldn’t even take care of the woman he loved. He fucking
loved
her, and he didn’t know if he’d ever get a chance to tell her. If she’d ever believe him.

God, he didn’t want to lose her.

Cory shifted his way. “It’s your business too. If you want to cancel out her debts, no one’s stopping you.”

The shift in topic made Dillon lift a brow. “She can do it herself.” She’d be paying them off soon enough.

“You honestly think she can clear that much back debt? In this economy?” Cory’s tone held the evidence of his doubt. “And even if she can, how far behind will that put her for the future? Just maintaining current operating capital will take a toll.”

“She can do it,” Dillon repeated. “She’s already on her way.” He slammed down his beer. “She didn’t give up on the store, and I’m not fucking giving up on her.”

He’d prove to her what he felt. Whatever it took.

…

Alexa stewed all night long, tossing and turning on her stupid air mattress. Jeez, she needed a real bed.

Real
was the most hateful word in the English language.

Lying alone in the dark, she tried to cry, just to get out some of the pain. But her tears had dried up, spent in the fury she’d unleashed on him at her store. And it still hadn’t been enough to close the gaping wound he’d left behind.

She was so in love with the ass. Didn’t it just figure that the first time she fell for a guy, it was a lying jerk like Dillon?

But
why
had he lied? That was the one question she just couldn’t answer. For sport? To try to take down her business from the inside out? And if so, why had he helped her? There was no denying he had, even if he’d ripped her to the bone afterward.

She finally gave up on trying to sleep and dragged herself through a shower at first light. The moment she entered the kitchen she saw the source of the scratching noises she’d been too worn out to investigate earlier.

Her cat crouched over her prey, looking sickly instead of triumphant, and a fresh wash of tears blurred Alexa’s eyes.

The violet was dead.

Oh, technically it probably wasn’t. Dirt was scattered over the floor and the leaves looked gnawed on and limp, but if she wanted to replant and nurture it, maybe she could save it from plant heaven. Compared with the dried-out flowers from Dillon she’d foolishly saved that were now lying, crumbled, all over the floor, the violet didn’t look half-bad. But she just didn’t have the energy. Or the time, since she was late for work.

“You’re a bad kitty,” Alexa admonished as she scooped the cat into her arms and cuddled her close. What had gotten into her? Trixie was three years old and never got into anything she shouldn’t. Or at least she hadn’t at the old house. Seemed her cat was having as hard of a time adjusting to their new normal as she was.

She nuzzled Trixie’s cheek while she hit the vet’s speed dial. Five minutes later she had an emergency vet appointment and her understanding best friend was on the way to Divine to deal with Mrs. Yancy. Thank God for Nellie. She’d have to buy the baby another frilly dress to go with the fifty she’d already stockpiled.

By the time she dropped off her lethargic—but thankfully mostly unharmed—kitty and relieved her best friend at work, her sleepless night had taken its toll in a raging headache. And then it got even worse, because the first thing she saw when she turned on her computer was an e-mail from Santangelo, LLC.

Great. Just great.

She expected to see the record of the funds she’d transferred via phone that morning to pay off her back rent. Instead, there was a note informing her that not only had her payment gone through, she now had a credit balance of approximately three months’ rent.

Dillon
.

She slammed her fist on the counter. Damn him all to hell. Did he think money would solve everything? If he did, he was no better than his brother.