Owning Corey (6 page)

As soon as she’s gone, Corey clears his throat and drops back into his seat, adjusting his pants. I’m still not looking, but I think I see his eyes flash to my crotch then look away. I move quickly to stand at the coffee maker, hoping he hasn’t seen the evidence of my arousal. Now that Christina is gone, my wood is inappropriate. Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem to have gotten the memo.

“More coffee?” I squeak.

Damn traitorous vocal cords.

“Yeah, sure.” He crosses his arms on the table and rests his head on them while I pour the coffee.

“Are you tired?” I slide his second cup of crappy coffee in front of him, and he raises up to drink it.

“Tired?” He’s got a funny little sarcastic smile on his face. I don’t know what it means, and I’m afraid to ask. “No, Ben, I’m not tired. I’m pretty fucking far from tired. How about you?”

He leans back in his chair in that languid way he has, legs
sprawled to either side of the seat
. His blue scrub top stretches tautly across the muscles of his chest, and the sleeves band around his biceps. Hospital issue uniforms are clearly not made for a man of his proportions.

His hand drops to his thigh and rests there, the sudden movement drawing my eye, and I can see from the way his scrub pants fit that he’s still very much aroused. He doesn’t even bother trying to hide the bulge, which is intimidating enough to make my mouth go dry.

Jesus, is he even wearing underwear?

When I look up, he’s staring calmly at me with narrowed eyes, and I know he’s caught me looking. It’s a straight guy’s worst nightmare, and I have to turn and pretend to fiddle with the coffee pot just to escape the awkwardness of the moment.

“Somehow I can’t bring myself to be as open about all of this as you are,” I say. “You have such an easy going nature, and I… well, I chew people up and spit them out, as they say.”

“You haven’t chewed me up yet.”

“It’ll happen. You can’t understand what it’s like to be unapproachable, when everyone is so intimidated they’re walking on eggshells every time you’re around. Everything comes easily to you simply because people get a freaking endorphin rush just from looking at you.” I pour the rest of my coffee into the sink and drape my stethoscope around my neck. “Hell, all you’d have to do is crook your finger at Christina, and she would leave me. Of course at this point, I don’t even think I give much of a shit.”

Corey stares at me without moving. His blue eyes are burning a hole through me, and I feel like I’ve just made the biggest asshole of myself.

“Sorry,” I apologize. “I should keep my feelings to myself. I’m better at being a hard ass.”

“Endorphin rush from just looking at me, huh?” Corey muses with a smile, as if I haven’t just had a meltdown. “So what are you saying, you think I’m hot?”

“Fuck you, Corey,” I growl, sticking my middle finger up as I leave the room. Through the swinging door, I can hear him laughing.

4

T
HE rest of the night is uneventful, so I take the opportunity to cat nap a time or two between bouts of charting and seeing patients in the ER. It’s a good thing, because I get the feeling I’m going to need my both my energy and my wits for what’s coming.

About a half hour before time to knock off, I make my way to the back of the lot to the old ambulance shack. Through the little window in the front door, I see Corey leaning over the desk and writing something on a piece of paper. A doorway at the back of the room reveals the flicker of the television and part of a metal bunk bed frame. I never realized how much this place needed updating, or how dreary it was, since we doctors don’t often have reason to visit the ambulance shack.

I knock lightly and wince as he comes up too quickly and bumps his head on the old fashioned light that hangs above the desk.

“Sorry, I don’t have your cell number,” I say. “Is your head okay?”

He waves a hand dismissively. “Fine. And I don’t own a cell. You could’ve rung the ambulance phone, though.” He gestures toward the old black push button phone, a perfect twin of the one in my on call room.

I shrug and notice he’s wadded up whatever he was writing and thrown it in the wastebasket beside the desk. I give it a pointed glance, but I don’t want to ask. Probably none of my business.

“I was writing you a note,” he says quietly. “To leave at the nurse’s desk on my way home.”

I frown. “Didn’t we agree you would stay at my house from now on?”

“Yeah… I’m not so sure about that. You don’t really know me that well. I don’t want to cause problems between us, Ben.”

“My instincts tell me you’re okay. You might count yourself lucky I’ve even offered to share my place with you. It’s not often that I… put myself out there.” I wait through a heavy silence, and an embarrassing thought occurs to me. “Oh God, do you just not want to stay with me? Am I putting you on the spot, harassing you into doing something you just don’t want to do? You don’t know me that well, either.”

“No.” He shakes his head emphatically. “Absolutely not. I really appreciate your offer. I just… there are things about me that you don’t know, that you may not like. I don’t want you hating me is all. This is my chance for a fresh start, and I don’t want to ruin it.”

The pain in his eyes is genuine, and a lump forms in my throat. I don’t like to see people in pain.

“Listen…” I move closer to him, resting my hip on the desk. “I don’t like the idea of you in that motel, okay? Can we leave it at that? You can stay in the pool house and pretend I’m not around if you want. I won’t get into your business, as long as there’s nothing illegal going on or you’re not destroying property. I mean, if you’re selling drugs out of my backyard, or if I find chloroform and a bag of lime in the closet, we’re going to have a problem. Otherwise, everything will be fine.”

“Well, I can’t very well pretend you’re not around if we’re going to be sharing your girlfriend, can I?” His smile is back, and I’m relieved.

“Come on, get your car. You can follow me.”

He flashes a big, cheesy grin. “I don’t drive a car, Ben. How do you feel about really loud motorcycles?”

*****

With his ragged Harley tucked away in my garage, Corey emerges for a tour of my home. We checked him out of the motel on the way over, and the scruffy duffel bag he retrieved from his depressing little room is now slung over his shoulder. I try to imagine how a person can exist with so few belongings.

“Let’s start the tour in the main house,” I say. “We’ll save your new place for last.”

We return to the street, because I want to take him through the wrought iron arch and up the front walk. In my opinion, it’s the only way to view an Antebellum mansion for the first time.

As we come up the brick walk, he’s a bundle of energy, talking fast and asking questions. “This is really where you live? The whole thing is yours? I’ve always wondered what one of these old white houses with all the columns would be like on the inside. This is a real antique mansion, isn’t it?”

His enthusiasm delights me, makes me laugh. “Yes, it’s an Antebellum mansion. Greek Revival style. It belonged to the town banker, and at one time it was the grandest home in town. Might be still, but who am I to say? I’m biased. When I bought it three years ago, it was in pretty bad shape, but I restored it.”

“It reminds me of
Gone with the Wind
,” he says.

“Well, don’t expect any slaves or Southern belles.”

“Whoa, ” he breathes when we enter the black and white marbled foyer. His mouth unhinges as his eyes follow the curve of the grand wooden staircase all the way up to the original crystal chandelier that hangs from the two-story foyer. The kitchen thrills him with its stainless steel Viking appliances, glazed vanilla cabinets, and leaded glass doors. “This place is totally old fashioned, but so modern at the same time. I love the high ceilings, and those rectangular windows above the doors— ”

“Transoms,” I interject. “They were very common in houses of this era.”

“It’s unbelievable. Is that the living room over there? You could have a freaking masquerade ball in there.”

“ I kept as much of the original feel as I could without sacrificing modern amenities.”

“You definitely have amenities, Doc, I’ll give you that. Jesus, this place takes my breath away. I’ve been in a mansion before, but not an old one. Those new ones don’t have character like this.”

“Come see the master suite. There used to be two smaller bedroom suites downstairs, but I knocked out the walls and combined them into one. I also installed a huge walk-in steam shower with wall jets. I love old things, but I couldn’t bring myself to sacrifice comfort for the sake of conservation. The old plumbing was for shit, and I despise claw foot tubs. Some of the folks in town would like to have my head for what I’ve done to this place, but… It’s mine, and I’ll do whatever I damn well please.”

Corey leaps onto my high four-poster bed and bounces like a kid in a mattress store, which is funny because he looks nothing like a kid. “Nice bed.” He sprawls onto his back. “Hell, nice everything. Look at that crown molding. You don’t play around when you fix up a house, do you? I could never do something like this. You’re like everything I wish I could be.”

I continue, purposely ignoring his compliment. “I got the house at a foreclosure auction. If you haven’t noticed, the economy is not so great around here. Since hardly anyone else could afford it, I was able to get it cheap. When you pay next to nothing for a house, you can sink some money into it.” Explaining how I can afford things is a habit for me after years of hiding my true net worth. “I’ll show you the upstairs another time. Three bedrooms and bathrooms up there, and another living area. I rarely even go up there, myself. I want you to see everything eventually, but I’m far too eager to show you the pool and the pool house.”

Through the glass doors off the living room, we exit to the pool area, and I flip the outdoor lights and start the automatic pool cover opening. The pool is a narrow rectangle lined with colorful tiles of blues, greens, and yellows. Warm mist rises from the surface as the cover slides back. “The pool was pretty boring before, but now I think it has an old Hollywood flair. I couldn’t bear to close it up for the winter.”

“I don’t think I could possibly be any more impressed with your house, Ben. I feel like I’ve died and gone to heaven, especially after being in that moldy motel for weeks.”

“Save the praise until you see where I’m putting you. Maybe you won’t like it.”

The pool house is mostly glass across the front, and the golden lights shining from the eaves give it a magical feel in the gray glow of early morning. I unlock the door and flip the light switch, illuminating it from within, and watch as Corey’s eyes go as wide as saucers. Of course I’ve always known he would love it.

“This is like the perfect cottage,” he breathes, running his hand over the arm of the white slipcovered sofa. A small glass dining table is tucked into the corner beneath glowing paper lanterns and set with two sparkling place settings of white china and crystal. All of the walls are natural stained wood, broken up only by the glass windows and a few abstract paintings. Corey peeks into the back, where I’ve added on a small but well-appointed kitchen and bath. “You’ll have to drag me screaming back to that motel, Doc. I’m just telling you up front.”

I laugh and point to the entertainment system. “Your TV and stereo. Just make sure you turn off the outdoor speakers, unless of course you’re having a pool party. Definitely make sure they’re off if you’re watching porn.”

“It’s a little cold for that.” He laughs. “I mean the party, not the porn.”

“Not necessarily. The pool is heated and has a hot tub.”

“Of course it does,” he sighs.

“I don’t want you to think I’m bragging, Corey. I’ve hardly shown this stuff to anyone before, but… well, I just want you to like it. I’m feeling kind of stupid right about now.”

“There’s a difference between pride and superiority, Ben. I can’t imagine you ever trying to make someone else feel inferior because they have less than you. Honestly, this is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. I really mean that. You have a good heart.” He presses his hand against my chest right over my beating heart, and I force myself not to squirm away or to let him know that this kind of thing makes me uncomfortable. It seems absurd anyway, considering what we’re planning to do with Christina.

“So when are we going to do the deed?” I ask, wondering why I’m deferring to him when she’s my girlfriend.

“This afternoon before we go to work. We’ve got to get this thing out of the way before it drives us both crazy.”

“I was under the impression that you were unfazed by it all.”

“God, how did you ever get that impression? I’m at least as messed up about it as you. Though I’m sure for different reasons.”

“I don’t know.” I shrug. “Maybe you just know how to play it cool better than I do.”

“Dr. Ice doesn’t know how to play it cool? Somehow I have a hard time believing that.”

I laugh. “Dr. Ice? Did you just make that up, or is that what they call me at work?”

“Do you even work at that hospital? You must go around with blinders and ear plugs. Do you really not know they call you that?”