“Okay, I will…goodbye, Bernie.”
“Goodbye, Bernie,” Cory called into the phone.
“Oh my God. I hate you. And you, Dr. Baker. You’re such a brat. Call me when you’re really alone,” Bernie demanded and hung up.
“I have to go paint. I’m burning daylight,” Alexis explained with a sigh. The time on the microwave really did tell her she had wasted too much time. She wasn’t going to get many more nice hot days like this. She needed to be outside, not sitting around being all googly-eyed over some guy that would move on to the next one in a day or two. He may have been sexy as hell, but she wasn’t blind. She knew the type. Smooth, sexy, and coy like a fox. He’d be in and out of her life in the time it took a fox to sneak in and help himself to one of the chickens. Nope. Not her. Alexis wouldn’t fall for it.
“Okay, but I want to hear the rest of your story.”
“I don’t feel right having you help me paint my porch.”
“I want to help you paint your porch. I insist, now move it, we’re burning daylight.”
“Fine, do you want to roll the ceiling or trim around the siding?”
“I better roll. I would hate to get paint on your pretty gray siding.”
“Now you’re scaring me, Doc.”
Alexis got him started with the rolling and poured herself some white paint into a small butter bowl. That was easier than maneuvering the heavy bucket on the ladder.
“I want to hear more of how you ended up with this place,” Cory beckoned as they worked. Alexis audibly sighed at his persistence and continued where she left off.
“My dad thanked Mr. Tate for helping me. He looked at me and told me to thank him, too. I gave him a big hug and he hugged me back. Sort of. I still remember how uncomfortable he felt when he wrapped his arms around me, like he didn’t know how to hug someone. Long story short—”
“I don’t want the short,” Cory retorted, not stopping from his task.
Alexis tried like hell to keep her eyes on the paint and not his flexing muscles, moving with every stroke. Good lord. “Okay, well in a synopsis, he became my project if you would. I was six and he needed a friend, and I was going to be his friend. He was dead set against it,” Alexis explained with a snicker, laughing at the nostalgic memory and the persistent little girl. She was determined to befriend this sad, old soul whether he wanted her to or not. “I sat with him at church every Sunday from that day on. I made my dad bring me over here almost every night to give him a plate of food. By that time, it was only my mom and dad, so we always had extra. He would grumpily tell me, ‘stop bringing me food,’” she said, mimicking his tone again. “But he always took it.” She smiled sadly, remembering her friend.
“Anyway, as I got older and was allowed to visit him by myself, I would sit on this porch and he would tell me stories from when he was a boy. His parents built this house and wanted to fill it full of children; unfortunately, they could never get pregnant and they ended up adopting Mr. Tate. His real mom, who was his mom’s sister, or maybe his dad’s sister,” she explained, stopping for a second to remember the story, “anyway, the mother died during childbirth and the dad couldn’t handle it. He gave him to John and Ella Tate. They are the ones that built this house. Mr. Tate never married, nor did he have any kids. I was the closest thing to family that he had, and if I wasn’t with Bernie, I was over here, helping him with things around the house or just sitting right out here talking for hours and planting all of these flowers.” She demonstrated with a waving paintbrush in a circular motion around the house.
“And when he died, he left you his farm?” Cory asked, intrigued by her story.
“Yup, that pretty much sums it up, except I didn’t get all of the land. He willed thirty-seven acres to my brothers because it butts up to my folks’ land. My brothers had been farming it for him for about five years before he died. He just wasn’t able to do it anymore and they kept it going for him so that he had enough money to pay his taxes and keep food on the table.”
“I love that story,” Cory admitted with the adorable smile that Alexis tried not to love. She smiled down at him, too, happy that he was there. For whatever reason, it felt good to be around a companion that wasn’t Bernie or Paige—a male companion.
“Do you want to take a break?”
“Sure, my shoulder could use a break.”
Alexis retrieved two glasses of fresh lemonade and leaned against the banner. Cory stood with crossed ankles and eyes pointed up. “I would almost call myself an expert.”
Alexis looked up, too. “Yeah, you’ve done a pretty good job so far.”
“But I’m not an expert?” he questioned with a sad expression and a pouty lip.
Alexis laughed and gave him his way. “Okay. You can be an expert.”
“Thanks.” Cory beamed while moving his glass to the banister beside him. In one quick turn, he spun to face her, pinning her between him and the railing. Her heart stopped beating, and then beat faster when she looked into those gray-green eyes. Good thing he was a doctor.
“Relax,” he said, barely above a whisper in that same, raspy, sexy tone. The one that sent sensations to places she’d forgotten she had. “You do know that I’m about to kiss you, don’t you?”
Alexis barely nodded, unable to speak. How the hell was she supposed to respond to that?
“Relax,” he repeated with warm words to her lips.
Alexis’s body responded to his like clockwork, her lips parted, and she felt herself lean into him. His warm breath was felt on her lips first, followed by the burn of his lips on hers. Their tongues entwined and danced in concord with the motion of their swaying heads. Desire and want that Alexis forgot existed sizzled between them. Moaning when he pulled her close to his healthy body wasn’t an option. But damn, did she ever want to. His arms held her solidly around her waist protectively, tight against his warm body. Cory broke contact first, but then dove back in for more. Alexis might have moaned a little that time.
“Jesus, girl,” Cory whispered to her lips again, pulling away.
Alexis was still speechless. There were no words.
“We better get back to work,” he suggested with a tug on the front of her belt loop, backing away and giving her much-needed space.
“I’m not sure I can after that,” Alexis admitted, unsure if her legs would even hold her up if she tried to move.
Cory smiled. “I hope that’s a good sign.”
“It’s uncharted territory.”
“Care to tell me about it?”
“No. I don’t. I mean…yes, I care. I don’t want to,” Alexis replied with edgy words, trying to reel in the nerves from the kiss. Holy Moly! Cory could kiss.
Cory decided not to push the issue on that one. He knew someone had hurt her. He knew she didn’t really trust him, and he knew she was somewhat broken. Those details could wait. Baby steps. They managed to get back to work, talking mostly about her family and the farm. Alexis tried to talk about his family, but he didn’t want to. He answered her questions with quick yeses and no’s. Alexis explained the gatherings her family held over at her parents’ farm, and how everything justified a get together in her family.
“So, it’s a barn party?” Cory questioned with his eyes glancing up to Alexis. They both seemed to do that periodically. She caught his gaze multiple times while doing the tedious part of the job, trimming around the window.
Alexis let her thin brush glide meticulously along the trim. “You could say that. When my Uncle Tom passed away, my dad’s brother, he left the McKinley farm forty-five thousand dollars. Rather than dividing it between a million people, we decided to build the barn. We all spend so much time there that we thought a building for our family congregations would be the best way to spend it. We always had to crowd into the house when the weather was bad or it was raining. Trying to put that many women into one kitchen was sometimes a nightmare. I come from a big family. That’s a lot of hormones in one place.
“You’r
e pretty close to your family, aren’t you?”
“Very.” She smiled, grateful for her family. All of them. Even Aunt Rosaline. She was a nosy gossiper, but would be the first one in line if a McKinley needed her.
“So now everyone just hangs out in the barn?”
“Some. It’s not a barn like you’re thinking. It’s a pole barn with aluminum siding and a concrete floor. There are windows in it and probably about twelve to fifteen feet of counter space, two refrigerators, two stoves, a microwave, a sink”—Alexis hesitated while looking up in thought. She used her paint brush to tally invisible lines in the air—“and fourteen picnic tables. The other side is pretty open for crazy, drunk McKinleys to dance.” Alexis laughed while she recollected some of those crazy family get togethers.
“Sounds like a lot of fun. Does your friend Bernie attend these parties?”
“It is a lot of fun, but I wouldn’t call it a party, at least not until my parents go to bed. Yes. Bernie is usually there. Her son, Taylor, who is six, loves it out there. He makes her sleep in a tent. She hates it.” Bernie did hate it. She hated it with a passion and she let everyone know how much she hated it except for Taylor.
“Where do you sleep?”
“In my old bedroom, or sometimes I come home, but mostly I stay, too. It doesn’t matter how much of a hangover you have or even if you’re still drunk. If you are there come Sunday morning, your butt is getting up and going to church. Pastor Chuck says when the McKinley family comes to church, he knows the bills are getting paid for the next month.”
“Your parents don’t let you drink there?”
“They know we do, but just out of respect, we wait until they go in, which is usually by eight—nine at the very latest. Let’s get some lunch,” Alexis offered. She cupped her right eye, looking through the window at the clock on the wall. “I want to paint this little bit on this corner trim and then we will get something to eat. Can you hand me that sponge brush there,” Alexis asked with a nod, pointing to the brush on the picnic table. It was easier for Cory to hand it up than it was for her to climb down and get it.
“Sure.” Cory reached her the brush and invited himself to one of her family gatherings, or at least he tried to. “Maybe you can bring—mmmm.”
Alexis didn’t mean to. It was his fault, too. Cory hit the bottom of her bowl full of paint with the brush, or did her bowl hit the brush? Regardless of whose fault it was, a thick white blanket of color coated his head. It was like a slow motion movie, and all Alexis could do was watch. The bowl went flying into the air and then back down, landing smack in the middle of his head.
Of all days not to wear a hat. Cory lifted the bowl and let the paint run from his head. He sputtered paint from his lips and used the bottom of his shirt to wipe it away from his eyes.
Alexis climbed down with her hand over her mouth. “Are you all white?”
“Did you just ask me if I was all white?”
Alexis nodded and tears formed in her eyes while she struggled not to laugh. She nodded but kept her mouth covered. She had to. It was either that or bust a gut.
“Am I all white?”
She nodded, still hiding her laugh.
“Am I all white?”
“Cory, I’m sorry,” she finally spoke after a long hesitation with her eyes full of tears, removing her hand and failing miserably to hide her amusement.
“Oh, you look sorry,” he accused with his feet shuffling toward her, coming closer. He ran his hand through the glob of paint coating his hair and took a step closer. His eyes went from the paint in his hand to her, to the paint, to her.
“Don’t,” she ordered with a stiff finger while stepping back. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“No?” he taunted with a grin, watching her spin and then jump the four steps in one leap. Too bad for her, his legs were a lot longer. He had her pinned to the ground in one stride.
Restrained between Cory and the freshly mowed yard, Alexis was doomed. “I’m not kidding,” she warned while watching him look at his painted hand and back to her with a spiteful grin.
Cory took his painted thumb and brushed just below her eye exactly like a football player would. Alexis stared up at him and let him. He painted the other one with his thumb, softly and seductively, and then kissed her. Paint ran from his head to hers and she couldn’t care less. Cory Baker could paint her entire body and she would let him.
“Some bodyguard you are,” Alexis accused when Mr. Dog nudged Cory’s cheek with his nose, breaking the firm hold they held with their lips. They both turned their heads toward the intruding dog, inches from their faces, and then toward the sound of crunching gravel. Alexis tilted her head back to see who it was.
“Shit!” she exclaimed with her hands planted flat on Cory’s chest, shoving him off, and quickly rising to her feet. “It’s my parents.”
“Your dad doesn’t carry a gun, does he?” Cory worried as he came to his feet as well. He stood there like a scared teenage boy. Folks around Cedar Springs were different than they were in Chicago. A lot different. More conservative and laid back, but yet intimidating. Cory could handle a crack overdose, but not a conventional dad. He had a feeling the fact that Walt McKinley’s daughter was well above the legal age to do what she wanted didn’t really matter to Mr. McKinley. And he was right. The McKinleys had their problems like any other family, but they would all stand in a line to kick anyone’s ass that messed with one of their own.
They stood, side by side. Paint still ran from his head, and Alexis had football painted eyes. They waited for the wrath like a couple kids in trouble.
“It looks like you’re getting a lot done,” her dad reckoned.
Cory couldn’t tell whether he’d been serious or joking. Hoping like hell he was teasing, he nodded and looked at Alexis for help.
“Hi, Dad. Yeah, we kind of had a little accident. This is Cory Baker,” Alexis said in introduction, smiling over to Cory. Even covered in white paint, he caused her heart to flip-flop. “Cory, my dad, Walt, and my mom, Lola.”
Cory looked at his paint-stained hands. “Nice to meet you, sir. I would shake your hand under different circumstances. Mrs. McKinley.” He nodded to her mother with a tilt of his head, who stood with a smirk beside her husband. If Cory didn’t know better, he’d say she enjoyed this.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Baker,” Lola replied with a warm smile, holding a glass casserole dish.
“Your momma thought maybe you two could use some lunch,” Walt presumed while his body turned to his amused wife.
Wait. Two? What was that supposed to mean? Alexis dropped her guard and asked, “‘You two’? How did you know I had company?”
“Bernie told us when I called the studio Thursday looking for you.”
Alexis shook her head in disbelief. Everyone in town knew he’d be there except her. Bernie crossed a milestone. She’d kept a secret for three days. A big secret. Alexis followed her dad to the half-painted porch.
“It looks nice. You kids are making good time,” Walt praised with his eyes pointed up, observing their work.
“Thanks. We should get everything but the floor done today.”
“Come along, Walt. Let’s let these kids get cleaned up. My casserole’s getting cold,” Lola coaxed.
Walt took her hand and led her down the steps. Cory watched with a hint of nostalgia that he never had. He didn’t really have parents like that. It was nice, refreshing, and it gave him a sense of longing, a longing for something he’d never had.
“We’ll see you at church tomorrow. You’re welcome to come, too, Mr. Baker.”
“Cory, please,” he insisted. “Thank you for the invitation.”
Alexis bumped Cory’s shoulder with hers and waved to her parents.
“Did that just happen?” Cory questioned.
“Yeah, way to go.”
“Way to go? Seriously? You’re going to pin this on me? I’m afraid you have this situation all mixed up. I’m pretty sure this was entirely your faul
t.”
“I’m only accepting half the blame. Let’s get cleaned up and eat some lunch. There’s a hose around here.” Alexis led him around to the corner of the house where a green water hose hung in a coil. She unwound the hose and watched Cory slide his shirt over his head. Oh. Um. Wow. His jeans hung low on his waist, and the build from there up mesmerized her. Sex appeal dripped from Cory Baker. Her job of taking care of the hose was forgotten and she didn’t move. She couldn’t move. Cory worked out.
“Are you checking me out?” He smirked after a long pause of amusingly watching her.
Alexis shifted her eyes from his abs. Oh, those abs. “No!” she exclaimed while anxiously turning back to the faucet. “Get over here,” she demanded and noticed the crimson in her cheeks wasn’t felt that time. Was she getting comfortable? Was she getting used to being around Cory? Questions about where this was headed entered her mind while she continued to enjoy the show. Cory scrubbed his head and Alexis admired the flexing muscles.
“Here, you spray,” he requested. He handed over the hose, needing both hands. What a mess. He’d be washing white paint from his hair for days and days. Alexis reached for the hose, but Cory didn’t let go. “Be nice,” he ordered with a quick peck to the corner of her lips.
Alexis smiled with a puff of air and jerked the hose from his hand. She fought the strongest urge to run her own fingers through his hair. Jesus. What the hell was wrong with her? She honestly didn’t remember ever being this attracted to someone. No matter how much she tried to push, the pull was stronger.
Once the white rain ran clear, Cory rose up and shook water from his head. The way Mr. Dog did it after a bath or a dip in the pond. Alexis squealed and jumped back. Cory grabbed her around the waist and pulled her to his wet, bare chest. “I’m sorry. Are you all wet?” He teased with his lips moving in for another one of those kisses. The ones that caused her to feel things in those places she didn’t really feel them.
Alexis placed her hand on his chest and whispered to his lips with closed eyes and a sexy tone. Cory parted his lips and waited for the kiss that didn’t come. “I’ve been wet ever since you took your shirt off, Doc. I’ll get you a towel.” Oh my God. She said that. Alexis actually said that. She spun out of his arms and walked to the back deck, leading into the kitchen. She did turn to see the dropped jaw. It was sort of epic and caused her to audibly chuckle.