Best She Ever Had (9781617733963) Page 2

  Cynthia thought back wistfully to those clandestine nights. Just the memory of Korey’s hands and mouth on her skin made her shiver. And another appendage besides his hands had been just as memorable. One night, she had playfully nicknamed it “Big Korey.” From then on, the nickname stuck, and all she had to do was whisper it in his ear to get his engine going.

  She watched as he now stood up. “Yeah, that’s a pretty bad dent, but . . .” He winked at Derrick. “I can fix her. It’s no problem, and you won’t even be able to tell the difference.”

  “Good! And I get the friend discount, right?”

  Korey laughed and nodded. “Yeah, man, you get the friend discount. Though with all the money you make, I should charge your ass extra, not less.”

  Korey suddenly turned to look at Cynthia, and she felt her body temperature rise again under his warm gaze. He walked toward her, reached into one of the pockets of his stained blue short-sleeved shirt, and pulled out a business card. He offered it to her.

  “You can bring it in anytime next week,” he said. “I’ll take care of it personally.”

  “Thank you.” She took his card and quickly tucked it into her purse.

  “We’re the auto repair and body shop that’s not far from Stan’s Bakery. We’re on the corner of—”

  “I know where you are,” she said then grimaced. She hadn’t meant to admit that.

  “Oh, you do?” He inclined his head. “I’m surprised to hear that . . . considering that you haven’t paid me a visit the whole time my shop’s been here, Cindy.”

  Derrick furrowed his brows. “Wait! You two know each other?”

  “I haven’t had a reason to visit you,” she said breezily, tossing her hair over her shoulder and ignoring Derrick’s question. “Why would I?”

  “Oh, I could think of plenty of reasons.” Korey took another step closer to her. She saw a shadow of an impish smile tug at his lips and the heat in his dark eyes intensify. “You and I have a lot of history.”

  She gritted her teeth at those words.

  Cynthia had pushed that “history” out of her mind years ago when she found out that Korey was engaged to Vivian Brady, Cynthia’s old arch nemesis in high school. Vivian had been the ring leader of the pack of girls who had ridiculed Cynthia endlessly about her mother, Yolanda—“the biggest gold-digging ho in Chesterton,” as Vivian and her girlfriends liked to call Yolanda back then. Korey marrying a girl like Vivian had felt like the ultimate betrayal to Cynthia, especially when she figured out later that he had been cheating on her with Vivian while they were together. It definitely made her feel less regretful about dumping him and getting engaged to her first husband, Bill, a millionaire who was fifteen years her senior. She had chosen Bill instead of Korey because he was handpicked by her mother.

  “Bill is the right kind of man for a responsible woman who wants to ensure her future,” her mother had said at the time.

  Cynthia had since heard that Korey and Vivian were divorced, just like she and Bill, but that didn’t change her feelings about Korey’s betrayal. He had hurt her indescribably. She would never forgive him.

  “I’ll bring my car in on Wednesday,” she said curtly. She then strode toward her SUV, forgetting Derrick, her big catch, and Korey, the first and last man to ever break her heart. Seconds later, she put her key in the ignition and pulled away, leaving the two men standing on the sidewalk, looking dumbfounded.

  Chapter 2

  Cynthia let out a deep breath as she opened her maroon front door, balancing her grocery bags in her arms and on her hips.

  She still felt shaky, but at least her stomach had stopped doing flip-flops during the drive home. She guessed it was inevitable that she would run into Korey. She had gone to great lengths to avoid him or hear any news about him, but he owned a business in town, after all. She just hated that she hadn’t been more prepared when she saw him again. Worse, she had thrown back a big fish like Derrick because Korey had distracted her with his “Ghost of Christmas Past” act. No doubt, after she left, Korey had filled in Derrick on their mutual “history.” She’d have absolutely no chance of winning Derrick over now!

  “Let it go,” a voice inside her head urged. “Another rich man will come along. They always do.”

  Cynthia nodded in agreement. Today she had been off her game, but she would get back on it—quickly. She could sense that her next husband was just around the corner, and she would have a ring on her finger again in no time. She just had to keep her eyes open and stay focused. Maybe this husband would finally be her last.

  I certainly hope so, she thought with a sigh.

  Cynthia knew she was starting to get up there in age, making it harder to “peddle her wares.” To mask her increasing number of gray hairs and to add a little va va voom, she had gone blond that spring.

  Her sisters had given up their gold-digging ways for good, and she had to admit, even she was starting to grow tired of the hustle. But she wouldn’t settle for second-best like some of her sisters had. She still wanted her big fish—her great white shark—before she finally retired from the game. She wouldn’t settle for anything less than a man who made seven figures or who had enough overall wealth to buy a small island.

  With that, she kicked the front door closed behind her, bringing an end to her bad mood. Cynthia dropped her keys into the glass bowl on her mahogany foyer table. Her high heels clicked over the ceramic tiles as she strolled toward her eat in kitchen.

  She had purchased the colonial soon after her divorce from her second husband, Richard. The sweeping, three-story house, with its charming rose garden and enclosed pool, seemed like a suitable payoff for enduring five years of marriage with that old windbag. She shared it with her only daughter, Clarissa. But now that Clarissa was spending most of her time away from home with friends or on her college campus during the school year, the expansive house felt a bit empty. The rooms echoed at night, and the hallways felt hollow with just one person walking around them during the day. Cynthia wondered if after Clarissa graduated, maybe she should put the house on the market. Her younger sister, Stephanie, was a Realtor. She could sell it for Cynthia. Maybe Cynthia could take the proceeds of the sale and buy a smaller condo. But Clarissa wouldn’t graduate for another two years. Cynthia still had some time to come up with a plan. Until then, she would keep the house the way it was.

  “Clarissa, baby!” she called out as she walked into her brightly lit kitchen.

  Most visitors to her home would be shocked to discover that the Ice Queen (as she was called by some people in town) had a home that was filled with warmth and decorated in a French country style that encouraged anyone to kick off their shoes, grab a glass of lemonade, and relax. The kitchen was painted a soft yellow, and the cabinets were off-white and distressed to give the illusion of age. A bouquet of sunflowers, calla lilies, and tulips sat in the center of the butcher-block kitchen island. A thirteen-inch-tall porcelain rooster sat next to the flowers. Cynthia sat her bags on the granite countertop near the stove and opened her stainless steel refrigerator door.

  “I saw your car in the driveway, Clarissa! Honey, are you home?”

  “I’m here,” Clarissa said. She casually strolled into the kitchen barefoot while flipping the pages of a magazine.

  Cynthia paused from shelving a head of lettuce, turned, and smiled at her daughter. “Well, to what do I owe this honor? I thought you had classes all day today. I didn’t expect you to be home until tonight.”

  Clarissa pulled out a wooden stool at the kitchen island. She sat down and started flipping pages again. “My only class today was canceled for summer vacation,” she answered, not lifting her gaze from the magazine. “The teacher’s aid was in a hurry to get to the beach, I guess.” She sat hunched over with her elbows on the counter, reading an article.

  Cynthia stopped unloading her groceries and eyed her daughter. “Honey, don’t slouch like that. It’s not—”

  “Ma!” Clarissa grumbled. “You said you woul
d stop lecturing me.”

  “I’m not lecturing you.”

  Clarissa looked up from the magazine and smirked.

  “Okay, I’m lecturing.” Cynthia pursed her lips. “But I only promised that I would try to stop lecturing.”

  Cynthia had agreed to work on her berating after Clarissa had attempted to run away when she was seventeen. Luckily, she hadn’t gone far. She went straight to Cynthia’s baby sister Lauren’s apartment. After that, Cynthia agreed to go a little easier on her daughter.

  “I don’t remember promising to stop lecturing completely. Besides, I can’t.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “I’m your mama. It’s in my contract.”

  Clarissa shook her head and chuckled, while Cynthia admired her daughter despite the slouched shoulders.

  It was hard to believe this was the same little girl who had been toddling behind her in pull-ups, who had worn crinoline skirts and patent-leather shoes with buckles on the ankles. Now Clarissa was a beautiful young woman. The nineteen-year-old was tall and curvy like her mother, though with a slightly darker skin tone and darker eyes. She also shared Cynthia’s stubborn streak. Cynthia had been trying for the past three years to teach Clarissa the Gibbons family rules of gold digging. They had been passed down for generations, starting with the family matriarch, Althea Gibbons, who had used her feminine wiles to go from being a poor sharecropper’s daughter to a millionaire’s wife. But so far Clarissa wanted no part of her family legacy.

  Pity, Cynthia thought, eying her daughter again. Clarissa was a natural beauty and graceful. Many a man would jump at the chance to be with her once she learned how to use the natural gifts God had given her. She could probably go far in gold digging if she gave it a chance.

  “Give it time, Cindy,” Yolanda had assured her when Cynthia expressed dismay that Clarissa didn’t want to follow in the family footsteps. “She’ll fall into the fold just like all of you did. Just be patient and give her time.”

  “Aunt Dawn called while you were out,” Clarissa said casually, pulling her mother from her thoughts. The young woman pushed her magazine aside, stood from her stool, and reached for one of the grocery bags. “She said you still haven’t returned the RSVP for Aunt Stephanie’s engagement party.”

  Cynthia groaned as she opened one of her oak cabinets. She put a box of crackers in the open space on one of the shelves.

  Clarissa frowned. “You don’t want to go to the party?”

  “It’s not that I don’t want to go, sweetheart. It’s just . . . It’s just that I don’t understand how your Aunt Steph could marry a man like that.”

  Clarissa opened a grocery bag and took out a carton of milk. Her frown deepened. “A man like what? What’s wrong with Keith? He seems nice to me!” She opened the fridge and put the carton on one of the shelves.

  “Yes, he’s nice, but nice doesn’t cut it. He’s just not the caliber of man I thought someone like Steph would go after.”

  “Umm, Ma, it’s not like she’s marrying a homeless guy.”

  “He’s a private detective! Do you know how much he makes doing that?” Cynthia snorted. “I bet not enough to buy Stephanie all those designer shoes and purses she likes! Married to him, she might as well start getting used to shopping at Payless and Walmart!”

  Clarissa sighed as she placed bananas on the granite counter near their toaster. “It’s not always about money.”

  “Spoken like a girl who’s always had it,” she replied, making Clarissa roll her eyes in exasperation. “Your Aunt Dawn isn’t much better. She’s lucky she has that inheritance from her father coming to her! It was her bad luck to hook up with a corporate lawyer who up and decided to quit his job as soon as they got together. Now he works full-time at a broke-down community center. He probably makes half of what she does—if that! She’ll be the one taking care of him financially!” Cynthia shook her head in disgust as she balled up an empty grocery bag and tossed it into a nearby recycling bin. “It’s like Dawn and Stephanie forgot all the fundamentals that we’ve learned since childhood. They just threw away the family rule book!”

  “Please,” Clarissa muttered under her breath as she emptied a bag of oranges into one of the refrigerator’s plastic storage trays, “not the family rule book again.”

  “Now Stephanie is pregnant again! That’s the real reason why they’re getting married! I swear that man cannot keep it in his pants!”

  “Ewww! Ma!”

  “Another baby on the way. . . . How in the hell are they supposed to—”

  “But they’re in love!” Clarissa argued, gazing into her mother’s eyes. “They’re in love and they’re happy. That’s what’s important . . . not how much money Keith makes.”

  “Aww, honey.” Cynthia raised a hand to her daughter’s cheek and rubbed it lovingly. “You are so sweet and so damn gullible, it’s almost charming!”

  “I am not gullible.” Clarissa shoved her mother’s hand away and crossed her arms over her chest. “I may be young, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know anything about relationships or love.”

  Cynthia paused. She closed the open cabinet door and narrowed her eyes at her daughter. “And just how much do you know?”

  “Oh, Ma, please!” Clarissa turned away.

  “Don’t ‘Ma, please!’ me. Look at me.” Cynthia gently but firmly turned her daughter around to face her. She examined her daughter’s features, trying to see if any of Clarissa’s secrets would be revealed on her delicate face. “Just how much practice have you had with ‘relationships and love’ on that little campus of yours?”

  Clarissa no longer met her mother’s eyes. The young woman looked over Cynthia’s shoulder and stared at the freshly cut lawn outside the kitchen’s bay window. “I’ve gone on a few dates.”

  “A few dates?”

  “Yes, just a few dates.” Clarissa hesitated. “And maybe I let one or two guys kiss me . . . on the cheek,” she quickly clarified, “but that’s all. Really, I swear!”

  Cynthia continued to gaze at her daughter suspiciously. She didn’t believe for one second that Clarissa’s romantic experiences consisted of only a few dates and chaste kisses on the cheek.

  I remember what it was like to be nineteen, she thought.

  The memory of Korey Walker, his Chevy sedan, and his teasing licks and kisses came rushing back again, but Cynthia quickly shoved it aside. Damn Korey and that warm mouth of his! He used to leave her begging him never to stop kissing her and touching her! She didn’t want to think about that right now!

  Cynthia focused again on her daughter. She wouldn’t force Clarissa to divulge more details about her budding romantic life, but Cynthia resolved she would have to keep a closer eye on Clarissa from now on. She didn’t want Clarissa to get sidetracked by a boy who wasn’t worthy of her.

  “Just like your mama didn’t want you sidetracked by Korey?” a voice in Cynthia’s head mocked.

  “Let’s change the subject,” Cynthia said, clearing her throat. She waved her hand dismissively. “Enough of this romance and love talk. I hear enough of that drivel from my sisters. I want to talk about tonight’s dinner.” She smiled, opened the fridge, and pulled out a plastic container of lean ground beef. “Since you’re home, I’m making your favorite, honey. Meat loaf with the smoothest mashed potatoes you’ve ever—”

  “Sorry, Ma. I’d love to stay for dinner, but I already have plans.”

  Cynthia’s smile disappeared. She looked crestfallen. “How can you have dinner plans? You just got home!”

  “I told Kayla that I’d meet her at the mall.” Clarissa grabbed her magazine off the kitchen island. “We’re supposed to go to a movie and get dinner afterward.”

  “But I hardly ever get to see you!” Cynthia cried. She knew she was whining, but she couldn’t help herself. “You’re either away at school or . . . or out with your friends or—”

  “We’ll hang out. I swear.” Clarissa leaned forward and kissed her mother’s rouged cheek. “We just can’t do it tonight. Okay?�
�

  “All right. I guess I’ll . . . I’ll take a rain check then.”

  “Thanks, Ma.”

  Cynthia watched as Clarissa started to back out of the kitchen.

  “Look, I’m supposed to meet Kayla in an hour, so I should probably head upstairs and start getting ready.”

  “Okay, you guys have fun. Tell Kayla I said hi,” Cynthia called as her daughter disappeared through the kitchen entryway. “And be careful!”

  “Yes, Ma!” Clarissa shouted back. Her footfalls echoed off the walls as she raced up the stairs to the second floor. Her bedroom door slammed less than a minute later.

  Cynthia stood alone in her kitchen, drumming her red fingernails on the butcher block. She blew air out of the side of her mouth, causing her side-swept bangs to flutter.

  “Well, I guess it’s just me tonight.” She turned and placed the Styrofoam container of beef back in the freezer. “Good-bye, meatloaf. Hello, pizza,” she said, as she took out a microwavable dinner box of frozen French bread pizza.

  Chapter 3

  “Jared?”

  Korey pounded on the bathroom door with his closed fist. He then tried to turn the brass doorknob, but to no avail. The door was locked.

  “Jared?”

  There was no answer, only the sound of Korey’s precious water going down the drain as his son, Jared, showered. Jared had been showering for more than half an hour now.