She bit down on the inside of her cheek. “I got snowed in while I was in the city looking at apartments so you can move in.”
“So who drove you home? Your broker? Come on, sis, fess up.”
“Fine, it was Derek West,” she said, if only to shut her brother up. “I’m interviewing him for Take a Byte, and he was kind enough to help me find a place to live.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? The gardener’s kid?”
She stiffened at the disdain in Spencer’s tone.
“No, the self-made billionaire,” she countered, hoping her brother got the hint that his own wealth hadn’t been earned.
God, what was wrong with men? She’d had enough of the class difference bullshit with Derek, though his had been more subtle and more personal.
“You can do better than him.”
“And you don’t care who I see, so why do you have a problem with him?”
As if he was suddenly uncomfortable, Spencer rolled his shoulders and unbuttoned the top button on his shirt. “It’s just awkward. They used to work for us until Dad caught his mother stealing. You need to stay away from them.”
“Whoa. Wait. What?”
“His mother’s a thief. Of course, she got away with it, but Dad let them go, no references. Which is what they deserved. So steer clear.”
Nausea filled her throat. “No. I don’t believe that.” His mother was the sweetest, kindest woman. She wouldn’t steal from them. “Dad told me they moved on to a new job.”
He shifted from foot to foot. “I guess they didn’t want to upset you. You always were too nice to the help.”
That was it. She wanted to go home, to her house, while it was still hers. “You’re a pig. Please tell me the walkway is shoveled so I can get home.”
“Yes. The snowplow broke. They’re coming back later to do the secondary driveway.”
“Good. I’m going home.”
“Find an apartment?” he asked.
“When I move out, you’ll be the first to know.” She turned and walked away, consumed by the information he’d provided.
She didn’t know the whole story and probably never would. Not from her family, but she now understood why Derek resented her so much. And if she’d held out any hope, subconsciously or otherwise, that he’d come around and want a relationship, her brother had shattered those dreams.
Derek might give her an interview. He might even want to sleep with her. But he’d never find her good enough for anything more.
* * *
Derek had fucked up. How else could he explain why, when he had Cassie right where he wanted her, after an intimate night, on a morning where she was considering taking things to the next level, he’d opened his big mouth and put up a barrier between them? He couldn’t keep letting the past get in the way, and there was only one person he could talk to about his issues.
Although he didn’t want to upset his mom, he reminded himself she’d had indigestion, not a heart attack. And she’d always been there for him. Always.
He drove out to the small house on the south shore of Long Island that he’d bought her with his first real earnings from Blink. His dad had already been gone, and she’d refused anything huge and elaborate. Derek’s sister had married and lived close by, which gave him a sense of relief that she was never truly alone should she need anything.
As usual, he found his mom in the state-of-the-art kitchen. The split-level house might be small, but Derek made sure his mom lacked for nothing in the details.
“I’m so glad you’re here!” His mom pulled off her apron and met him with a big hug.
He squeezed her hard, then stepped back to study her. “I suppose it would be too much to ask for you to rest after the scare you had?”
She looked up at him, her blue eyes so like his own. “Rest after indigestion? I’m embarrassed and want to forget the whole thing.”
“Better safe than sorry,” he assured her.
“Come, sit. Can I make you a cup of coffee?”
“Sure,” he said, because he was chilled and because his mother was happiest when she was doing for her children. “And what kind of cake do you have?” His mother always had fresh-baked goods on hand.
“Coffee cake,” she said with a laugh.
“Big slice, please.”
She smiled, thrilled with his answer. “So,” she said as she puttered around the kitchen, brewing them both a cup of hot coffee, “to what do I owe this visit? Checking up on your old mother?”
He took in her still-jet-black hair, pulled back in a bun, and her barely lined face. She wore a pair of jeans and an old sweatshirt, with fuzzy slippers on her feet. Old? Not a chance, not in looks or demeanor.
“No, actually. I wanted to talk to you.” She placed his cup on the counter and he wrapped his hands around the extra-large mug. “Someone came back into my life recently and it has me … mixed up,” he admitted.
After slicing two pieces of cake, Derek’s big enough for two, she pulled her chair close to his and sat down. “Who is this person who has my normally unflappable son ruffled?” she asked.
He drew a deep breath. “Cassie Storms.”
“Oh. Oh!”
She descended into silence, and he let her mull over the information, which undoubtedly brought back a host of bad memories.
“She was always such a sweet child,” his mother said, her first reaction taking him off guard.