Shameless (St. Martin Family Saga) by Gina Watson Read Free Book Online Page A

the crack before he pointed to the door, “pales in comparison to what could happen with the door. Someone could easily get in here and hurt you. This is serious, not something to dismiss casually.”
    She gasped. “How easy for you to stand there and judge me. Just remember I didn’t ask you to come over here.” Her eyes narrowed into snakelike slits as she glared at him. “Some people need money to feel content—that doesn’t work for me. And just because I don’t have a private practice and a fancy degree doesn’t mean I’m not ambitious.”
    Cory exhaled loudly through clenched teeth. “Fuck it.” The house could fall down around her and all her karma bullshit. He wasn’t going to press her. If she didn’t want to take care of herself, there was nothing he could do to help her. He needed some space anyway. It was past time he left.
    “For the record, I wasn’t judging you. I was trying to help you. Thanks for the dinner.” He looked to the door. “I’ll go out the back.”

4

     
     
    C orrigan St. Martin was an ass. Brook just wished he didn’t have such a sweet one. Four days ago he’d walked out her back door and she’d not been able to get him out of her mind since.
    When Brook stomped inside, The Good Doctor was hoppin’ with a bachelorette party in progress. Logan had refused to come out from behind the counter as he stewed about a brewery hosting a bachelorette party. He was talking to himself, asking where the hell the bachelors were.
    An hour later, washing and drying pint glasses wasn’t enough to occupy her mind, and Brook found herself thinking of nothing but Cory. She wished he hadn’t mentioned anything about the door; now she’d be leery in her own home. Imagining what she would do during a home invasion had chills crawling up her spine. What could she do? She had no means of protection. Could she afford a new door? Probably not. She had only three hundred dollars left to get her through the month.
    She was in a real funk about how they’d left things. Although he was an ass, she felt she’d been harsh. He’d said he was trying to help her.
    Brook had been kept busy keeping the bachelorette party in beer and peanuts, but the women were of the diva variety and not easily satisfied. The ringleader approached Brook at the bar.
    “Hey, we’re about to open the gifts, and I’ve misplaced my notepad and pen. Do you have something I can use?”
    Brook dried her wet hands and pulled a couple of sheets of paper from the printer, grabbed the only writing implement she could find—a carpenter’s pencil. She handed the stuff to the diva sporting a banner across her body that read Maid of Honor .
    She reached out and took Brook’s offering. “Gross, this paper is wet. Get me a pad.” She slammed the paper down on the bar and scrunched up her nose at the same time. “And I need a nice gel pen, preferably blue or red—anything but black—and no pencils.”
    Brook stared at the woman with disbelieving eyes. They had none of those things at the bar. Brook shrugged. “There’s a drugstore across the street.” The maid of honor harrumphed and walked off, leaving the paper and pencil behind.
    Once the gift and game portion of the festivities had been completed, the girls began to drink in earnest. Brook guessed that most of them—including the two singing very much off key—must be intoxicated considering the amount of beer they’d been ingesting. She offered them hot wings, fries, and peanuts, but they refused all food and demanded more beer. They’d become a tad belligerent for Brook’s liking and had taken to calling her Beer Wench.
    At eight thirty or so, Brook looked up from drafting a pitcher and into the exotic blue pools of Cory’s eyes. His lips were tightly pursed until he exhaled and said, “Hey.” He combed his hands through his wet hair, drawing Brook’s eyes to his bulky triceps and a hint of his silky underarm hair. His T-shirt was damp and clung provocatively