The Trouble With Love (26 page)

“You mean after,
Finally. A grandchild
?”

“How can you joke?” she snapped.

“I’m not making light. I’m … sorry, but I’m thrilled. I wish you felt the same. What’s the problem here, Chloe? Are you worried about gossip? The fact we’re not married? I—”

“Don’t say it.” She stiffened her spine and knotted her hair. “Don’t propose just because—”

“There is no
just because.
I love you. I want to spend my life with you. Share a home. A family.”

Fresh tears burned her eyes. “I don’t want it to be like this. How it was with her. I don’t want to repeat your past or my penchant for failure. I’m trying not to be superstitious, but…”

Devlin’s expression softened. “You’re not going to lose this baby, honey.”

“You can’t know that. Janna was five months along when she … Anything could happen. I’ve spent a lifetime screwing up. Bad timing. Bad luck.”

“This is different. You’re different. You’ve changed and so have I. You’re going to have a beautiful healthy baby and I’m going to drive you crazy because I will, I promise, smother you both with love and protection.” He stroked a thumb over her cheek, smiled. “Whether you marry me or not.”

Her racing heart bloomed. “It’s not that I don’t want to.”

“It’s just that you’d rather wait.”

Until she’d had the baby. Until she was certain she wasn’t reliving his first wife’s fate. Chloe also wanted more time to nurture her relationship with Devlin. She didn’t want either one of them to feel pressured into marriage. When he proposed and when she accepted, she wanted it to be solely from the heart and not bound to honor or obligation.

“Be warned,” Devlin said, holding her close. “I’d wait a lifetime for you.”

She took comfort in his arms, in the slow, hard thud of his big-as-the-world heart. “I won’t make you wait that long.”

“Thank God.” He smoothed his hand down her back. “What do you say we move past shock and worry to optimistically joyous?”

“Monica’s going to be crushed.”

“Mmm. Probably. At first anyway. But she’ll get past it, Chloe.”

“I’m not so sure. She’s obsessed with having a baby. So much so, she’s driving Leo away, which doesn’t help her cause. What if she ends up alone and I get her happily-ever-after? What if—”

“What if you think positive? Have more faith in Monica and Leo. In your friendship.”

“What about Moose-a-lotta? Daisy and I just launched the business. I don’t want to give up our dream, but I don’t want to be an absentee mom either.”

“We’ll work it out.”

She glanced up at the man who was famous for trying to control the lives of friends and family. “We?”

“We’re in this together.” He bade her to meet his gaze, raised a brow. “Any other concerns, problems, or beasts you’d like me to slay? I’m feeling pretty invincible just now.”

Charmed, Chloe practically wilted with relief. “You’re really happy about this, aren’t you?”

“Second-best day of my life.”

Her lip twitched. “Best day being?”

“The day you scrambled on your hands and knees for my pork ’n’ beans and grabbed my sausage.”

“You say the most romantic things.” She smiled, thinking about the first time they’d met. The first time they’d kissed. The first time they’d made love. And the night they’d been so hot for each other they’d slipped up on birth control. Hopelessly in love, Chloe closed her eyes and settled into Devlin’s embrace, into their future. Things weren’t perfect, but they were certainly looking up. All she had to do was weather Monica’s envy. Chloe’s heart sang at the glimpse of a rainbow.

Devlin traced a thumb over her sudden smile. “Optimistically joyful?”

“Second-best day of my life.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Rocky’s spontaneous visit to Maple Molly’s had been fortuitous on many levels. She’d not only reserved a few items for Jayce’s house; she’d scored a lead on another decorating job as well. According to Molly, a wealthy businesswoman from California had purchased the old Rothwell property as a vacation home and, while trolling for antiques, the woman had intimated the need for a local decorator. Most people refused to step foot in that turn-of-the-century farmhouse given its reputation for being haunted. Rocky wasn’t most people. She’d snuck into that old house a few times when she was a kid, enchanted by the multiple rooms and unique design and, okay, jazzed about the possibility of seeing a ghost. The prospect of decorating that creepy old place gave Rocky the shivers, but in a good way.

Intrigued, she’d spent the ride home contemplating the future. She’d never considered a career outside of running the Red Clover, and though the B and B was still her primary concern, Rocky couldn’t shake the thrill of branching out. The challenge was invigorating. She wondered if Jayce had gotten that same rush when he’d first considered launching his cyber detective agency. She itched to pick his brain but had refrained from calling since he was
on the job.

Two hours after they’d last spoken, Jayce finally called. “Billy drove Tasha home. The long way around, but they didn’t stop anywhere.”

“Maybe he spotted you following and they nixed their plans.”

“Maybe. But I don’t think so.”

“Then why the out-of-the-way drive?”

“Privacy to talk?”

“About what?” After navigating her darkened yard, Rocky took refuge under the porch light. She wedged her phone between her ear and shoulder as she unlocked her front door while balancing an antique hand-painted globe lamp on her hip. Although she’d been scouring Molly’s with Jayce in mind, Rocky had been unable to resist a bargain buy for herself—or rather her Monarch guest room. “Do you think they’re plotting something behind Randall’s back? Or plotting to advance his career in some devious way? Increased fame and fortune for the Burkes, maybe through the Cupcake Lovers book deal? That would be so like Tasha and Billy. Conspiring for their own gain.”

“I don’t have enough information to offer a concrete opinion. But I can tell you this: Billy’s wife filed for divorce.”

Rocky almost dropped the lamp. “You’re kidding. When?”

“A couple of weeks ago.”

“I had no idea.”

“Not public knowledge.”

“Then how … Oh. You ran some sort of background check on Billy.”

“It’s what I do, Dash.”

“I’m not criticizing.” She set aside her booty and flicked on lights, struggling to get a foothold on their new relationship. “In fact, I’d like to hear more about your new cyber detective agency and how you went about launching a new business. Maybe I could drive over, make you dinner, and we could, you know, talk.”

“I can think of more pleasurable ways to spend the evening.”

A sensual thrill zapped her libido. “Name one.”

“Angling for a bout of phone sex, Dash?”

“You wish,” she teased, seconds from peeling off her jeans. The mere sound of his voice inspired lust.

“The real thing it is.”

“When?”

“After I handle some business.”

“Time frame?”

“Don’t wait dinner.”

He disconnected and Rocky cursed. Phone sex would have been fun, but hooking up in the flesh would fry her senses. Worth the wait if the waiting didn’t kill her. She imagined Jayce’s smoking-hot body, shivered with erotic memories. She thought about the vibrator tucked away in her dresser drawer.

Her cell phone pinged. A text from Jayce.

BTW DON’T JUMP THE GUN. HAVE PLANS 4 U

“Damn.”

*   *   *

“Okay. I’m here. Where do you want me?”

“I appreciate this, Rachel,” Luke said without turning. “Day from hell. First Anna calls out, then Nell. Sadie complained about an upset stomach, so I sent her home.”

“There’s a flu bug going around,” Adam said while Luke served up his draft.

“We were down two guys today on my crew,” Kane said. “Not that it mattered much with the heavy rain.”

Luke’s ears roared with the dueling sounds of country rock, crowd chatter, and the intermittent curses and cheers from a competitive game of pool. It wasn’t an overly busy night at the Shack, but it was damned lively.

“Where do you want me?” Rachel asked for the second time.

Focused on multiple drink orders, Luke gathered the ingredients for a Piña Colada and Long Island Iced Tea. “Moderate dinner crowd. Gemma’s a whiz. She can manage the dining area solo. Think you can handle the pub?”

“Guess we’ll find out,” Rachel said with a twinge of sarcasm. “Apron?”

“On that shelf under the cash register.” Luke heard her shift away. Heard one of the Brodys whistle low. “What?” Luke asked.

“Rachel,” Kane said. “No wonder Sam’s hot for her.”

“Who knew?” Adam asked.

Luke measured portions of rum and pineapple juice into the blender, then followed the Brodys’ gazes.
Holy shit.
Rachel Lacey had curves. He’d never seen her in anything other than those shapeless peasant dresses. Tonight she wore slim-cut black pants and a formfitting long-sleeved shirt. He stared as she tied the Shack’s signature crimson apron around her trim waist.

“Nice rack,” Kane said.

Luke reached over the bar and punched his friend’s shoulder. “That’s Sam’s girl. Show some respect.”

“Oh, she’s got my respect. Wow.”

“Sure she’s Sam’s?” Adam craned his neck to watch as Rachel waited on a table of four seated by the fireplace. “We all witnessed the disaster date.”

“Like you’ve never struck out first time at bat,” Luke said while dumping a cup of crushed ice into the mix.

Adam and Kane felled him with arched brows.

Neither had Luke, but that wasn’t the point. “Yeah, well, cut Sam a break.”

Luke fired up the blender, cursed his own randy reaction to a side of Rachel Lacey he’d never seen. That sweet figure would get a rise out of any man, but Luke was especially intrigued with her face. She’d pulled her lackluster, stringy hair into a high ponytail, exposing her almond-shaped eyes, high cheekbones, small upturned nose, and sensual lips. Not Hollywood beautiful, but unconventionally pretty.

Sam’s girl.

Right.

Rachel hurried over, tray and notepad in hand. “Two glasses of Merlot, one Cosmopolitan, and one Sam Adams Seasonal.” She double-checked her writing, then glanced at Luke. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re staring.”

“Your outfit.”

“Black pants, white shirt.” She gave herself the once-over. “Standard uniform, right?”

“Yeah. It’s just … tight.”

“You’re the one who suggested I’d earn bigger tips if I showed a little cleavage.”

“I know, but—”

“I need the money, Luke. Am I dressed inappropriately?”

“No.”

“Then would you please fill my drink orders? Speedy service prompts higher tips.”

Again with her almost desperate need for money. Rachel had been working steadily at the day-care center for months. She drove a beat-up car, owned a limited wardrobe, rented a small apartment, lived a conservative life—as far he knew. How could she be strapped for cash? Was she paying off old debts? Supporting a parent? Saving for a dream house that just went on the market? Luke was intrigued. Not good. When something snagged his interest, he was like a dog with a bone. Obsessed until he grew bored or something else nabbed his attention. Being obsessed with Sam’s girl would suck.

Luke poured wine, resisting the urge to ask Rachel why she typically worked so hard to hide her face and figure. Was it because she disliked attention? She was getting plenty of that now from Adam and Kane, and, dammit, himself. While mixing a Cosmo he stole a glance at the mousy day-care aide turned provocative waitress. One thing hadn’t changed: her habit of avoiding eye contact.

“Hey, Luke. Frannie’s selling sweets. A fund-raiser for the school band. I know I just hit you up for another one of my grandkids’ fund-raisers, but I can’t play favorites. Know what I mean? Besides, I know how much you love cookies.”

Luke garnished the rim of the martini glass with a lime wedge just as Bert Hawkins, owner of the town’s most popular sports shop, slid an order form across the bar. The print was minuscule, and there was a lot of it.

“What can I put you down for?” the older man asked.

“Three boxes.”

“Of what?”

“An assortment.” Luke loaded Rachel’s tray with two Merlots and the Cosmo and nabbed a tall glass for the beer.

Bert tapped the order form. “Can you narrow it down? There are twenty different varieties.”

“Peanut butter.” A safe guess, right? What cookie company didn’t hawk peanut butter?

“The Peanut Butter Cashew Cakes or the Peanut Butter Pecan Pinwheels?”

“Pinwheels.”

Bert pulled a pen from his pocket and ticked off a space. “That’s one box. What about the other two?”

“I like them all,” Luke lied as another patron whistled for his attention and pool balls clacked like thunder in his ears. “Just put me down for whatever.”

“Wouldn’t feel right about that. These are the gourmet kind. Take a quick gander at these descriptions,” Bert said, tapping the pen to one of several rows of print.

Luke’s head buzzed as the letters swirled.

“I love cookies,” Rachel said, moving in beside Bert and nabbing the form. “Let’s see. What looks good?”

Luke listened as she calmly and quickly read a few descriptions. He locked on to two. “Put me down for those Double Chocolate Caramels and White Chocolate Maples,” he said while setting a foaming beer on Rachel’s tray.

“Who can resist decadent?” Rachel asked Bert while flashing Luke a small but kind smile. “I’ll take a box of each of those myself plus the Coconut Fudge Creams and…” She skimmed the page. “Yes, these. Sugar Doodles. Thanks.”

“Thank
you,
” Bert said with a toothy grin, then shifted his attention to Luke. “Mind if I hit up your other employees? It’s for a good cause.”

“Knock yourself out,” Luke said, catching Rachel’s gaze before she nabbed her tray of drinks and hurried off. His first thought was:
Brown.
Her eyes were brown. Second thought:
She knows.

*   *   *

Rocky had never been good at taking orders. That’s why she liked running her own business. Sure, guests voiced their two cents now and then regarding their room or the property or her limited recreation equipment—but she was the boss. Making her own decisions, following her instincts and impulses, fed into her need to control her destiny. It also stemmed from a lack of patience. She wasn’t one to wait around. Which was why she’d taken the initiative with Jayce thirteen years ago. If she’d waited for him to make the first move they might never have made love. At the least, he wouldn’t have been her first. For all the drama, she’d never once regretted that Jayce had been her first. For all the drama, she had no problem imagining him as her last. A lifetime of lovemaking with Jayce Bello. Yeah, boy, she could handle that. What burned her buns was the way he bossed her. No, what burned her buns was the way she
let
him boss her.