Fool for Love (14 page)

“A pretty girl,” Nash added.

“And you’re both sniffing after her. Do me a favor and don’t. I’m pretty sure Dev likes her.”

Nash looked crushed. “Really?”

“I picked up on that,” Luke said with a devilish gleam in his eye. “Thought he could use a shove. A little brotherly competition. You know Dev.”

“Picky,” Nash said.

“Cautious.”

“Uptight.”

“Whatever.” Rocky huffed a breath. “Can I trust you clowns to behave yourselves?”

“Seriously?” Nash asked.

Rocky whacked him in the back of the head.

“You three coming inside anytime soon?” Gram called out the front door. “The neighbors are starting to talk.”

“The neighbors always talk,” Nash said. “Sugar Creek. Home of the busybody.”

“Coming!” Rocky called.

“What are
you
doing here early?” Luke asked her.

“Unlike you two, I’m actually useful in the kitchen. Like you said, eight people, that’s a lot. Figured I’d lend a hand. Plus,” she added, feeling a little guilty about ribbing them when she had an ulterior motive of her own, “I need to talk to her about Cupcake Lovers.”

“What about it?” Luke asked as they neared the front porch.

“I want her to join.”

“Why?” Nash asked. “She’s only here for a couple of months.”

“So what? Given her background, she could prove a dynamic force in a condensed amount of time.”

“I heard she has something against desserts,” Luke said.

Nash stopped in his tracks. “No dessert tonight?”

“I’m sure Gram has some cookies in the pantry or something,” Rocky said. “Don’t look so stricken.”

“How can a gourmet chef have a beef with sweets?”

“Let it go, Nash.” Although Rocky wondered the same thing. She also hoped it didn’t prove a barrier once she explained to Chloe how Cupcake Lovers would benefit from her two cents.

Just as they reached the door a horn blared. All three turned as Leo and Monica’s Suburban pulled in behind Rocky’s Jeep.

“Bet Monica’s here to lend Chloe a hand, too,” Luke said.

“Perfect,” Rocky said. “There goes my fifteen minutes.”

FOURTEEN

The longer Chloe toiled in the kitchen, the lighter her mood. She lost herself in the rhythm of cooking and the classic rock tunes blaring from the radio. Regarding her ability to impress the Monroes as a chef, any lingering anxiety faded the moment she mixed the ingredients for the apple sausage stuffing. She’d prepared a Cornish hen entrée similar to this in class and it had received high marks and rave reviews. She reflected on that moment and several other successful dishes as she lightly stuffed the birds and secured the opening with skewers.

Into the roasting pan. Into the oven.

Her confidence swelled like a perfect soufflé as she prepared the garlic mashed potatoes and a green bean and mushroom medley. She didn’t even mind when Monica and Rocky invaded her domain. Unlike Daisy, they didn’t try to take charge. The helping hands were welcome, the banter light and fun, centering mostly on the Food Network. They even timed their efforts when they prepared the Apple-Fennel Salad as if they were competing on
Iron Chef.

“If heaven has a scent,” Luke said, bursting in for the second time in thirty minutes, “this is it. You’re killing us, Chloe. Nash started drooling ten minutes ago. Garlic?” he asked, reaching for the deluxe mixer’s potato-glommed beater.

She gave his hand a playful smack.

“Gram always lets me lick the beater.”

“I’m not Gram.”

He gave her a smoldering once-over. “You can say that again.”

Chloe quirked a brow. “Is this the part where I’m supposed to get all weak kneed?”

“You mean you’re not?”

“No.”

“Damn.”

Monica laughed.

Rocky snapped his butt with a kitchen towel. “Would you get out of here?”

He sauntered to the fridge. “Just came in for a couple of brewskies.” He grabbed four. “Something to wash away the taste of Gram’s cocktails.”

“What was it this week?” Rocky asked.

“Long Island Pucker.”

“Most disgusting ingredient?”

“Watermelon schnapps.”

Chloe
ewwed
along with the other women.

“Plus she’s on a scrapbook kick. Dev, Nash, Leo, and I are ODing on family photos. Please, God, tell me dinner’s almost served.”

“About fifteen minutes,” Chloe said.

“You’re a goddess.” He winked, flashed a killer smile, then after a seductive pause raised a brow. “Nothing?”

“Sorry.”

“Guess I’m having an off night.”

“Or something,” Rocky muttered with a grin.

As soon as he left, the women shared a laugh.

“That was priceless,” Monica said.

“He’s actually very charming,” Chloe said as she tugged on a pair of oven mitts. “In a shallow, disconnected, womanizing kind of way.”

“Ouch,” Rocky said.

“I didn’t mean … I’m sure Luke’s really sweet—”

“He is,” Monica said.

“But you’re right,” Rocky said. “He’s a player.”

“I’m sorry. I’m just overly aware of potential heartbreakers these days. Although at least Luke’s obvious. Never saw it coming with Ryan,” Chloe said.

“Cheating bastard,” Monica blurted, then, red faced, glanced at Chloe. “Sorry, hon.”

She shrugged. “That’s okay.” After all, she’d opened the can of worms, by mentioning the slimy sucker. “Ryan’s my ex-boyfriend,” she told Rocky as she cracked the oven door. “We lived together for over two years. I thought marriage was in our future, but then, well, it wasn’t.”

“Broke up with her on the day she learned she graduated with honors,” Monica snapped.

“You graduated with honors?” Rocky asked, sounding impressed.

“No big deal,” Chloe said, testing the tenderness of the hens.

“Huge deal,” Monica said. “She baked a special cake for an intimate celebration and—”

“Tell me that’s when he broke up with her,” Rocky said.

“Insensitive bastard.”

“No wonder she’s adverse to desserts.”

“Oh no,” Chloe said. “Everyone will be expecting dessert. I didn’t think … Well, I did, but then I blocked it out.” Her face burned from the oven’s heat as much as her faux pas. Even so, she relished the camaraderie of the moment. A woman amongst friends. She never felt more alive and happy than when enjoying a good meal with good company. “No, worries,” she said, channeling a vibrant hostess. “I’ll whip something up.” The pantry was stocked. At the very least she could serve instant pudding topped with whipped cream. Yeah,
that
would impress.

“Don’t worry about it,” Rocky said. “You’ve done enough.”

“Mark my word,” Monica said, “everyone will be too stuffed from this incredible meal to even
think
about dessert.”

“And if they do,” Rocky said with a sly smile, “Gram always keeps a stash of cookies from Gemma’s Bakery.” She moved to the fridge, nabbed an imported beer and a chilled bottle of wine. “I don’t know about you, but I think we deserve a cocktail, too. And not the toxic swill Gram’s serving the boys.” She poured two glasses of wine, then screwed off the cap of a longneck.

“Not a fan of chardonnay?” Chloe asked when Rocky opted for the beer.

“Allergic.” She clinked her bottle to Chloe’s and Monica’s wineglasses and toasted their combined efforts. “Here’s to a delicious dinner.”

“And friendship,” Monica said.

Heart lighter than it had been in days, Chloe nodded and smiled. “To friendship.”

*   *   *

Dinner was a hit. Chloe accepted every compliment (and there were plenty) with subdued grace, but on the inside she was happy-dancing like a loon. Even Monica, who’d known her forever, was impressed.

The only glitch was that Daisy had seated her next to Devlin. Hard to relax when the tension between them was palatable. Did he have to sit so close? Did he have to smell so good? He’d spared her few looks and fewer words, but she’d swear she had his full attention—if not his approval. Unlike everyone else, he hadn’t raved about the food. Since he sampled every dish and ate heartily, she assumed he didn’t hate her cooking. More likely he hated that he loved it.

Chloe had smiled to herself more than once, thankful that she’d strived to impress rather than torture. It would have been so easy to sabotage his hen. The wrong combination of spices. Overcooking—dry and tough instead of moist and tender. But that would have been petty. Much more satisfying for him to eat crow and admit she rocked in the kitchen. Not that he’d admitted squat. Not that she expected him to. That would require applauding her efforts instead of finding fault. The man seemed intent on disliking her. It must have galled him that the rest of his family thought she was the best thing since Starbucks coffee.

Nash and Luke had complimented everything from her cooking to her taste in music and books. Daisy bragged that she’d hired a culinary genius and Rocky asked if Chloe minded sharing her stuffing recipe, something she’d like to try out on her B and B guests—although she didn’t have any bookings for the next two weeks.

Chloe took that opportunity to shed the spotlight on someone else, expressing interest in the Red Clover as well as the Sugar Shack. Talk turned to business and she relaxed and absorbed as the conversation bounced from Rocky’s seasonal slump, Leo’s heavy workload, and Nash’s chaotic flight schedule to a staffing issue at the Sugar Shack and renovations at J.T.’s. Daisy, bless her heart, had an opinion on everything, as did Devlin—although they rarely agreed. But even the occasional flareup was tempered with respect and good humor.

If Chloe closed her eyes she could imagine herself at any one of her favorite haunts in Manhattan enjoying a good meal and energized conversation with any one of her circles of colorful friends. Something Ryan had referred to as a frivolous waste of time and money. Looking back, he’d never felt comfortable with her artistic friends and little by little he’d pulled her away and into his own social scene—which boiled down to stuffy business dinners and the occasional “date” night. What peeved her most was that she’d allowed that to happen. She’d abandoned a precious part of her life to make
him
happy. To be the kind of woman
he
preferred. Although in the end, he’d preferred another woman altogether. Why had he turned her life inside out, only to leave her high and dry? “Bastard.”

Her mind glitched when she felt Devlin squeeze her thigh.
What the—?
But then she realized he wasn’t being fresh; he was stilling her bouncing leg—a brief, under-the-table squeeze that scorched her senses.

Then Nash asked, “Got a beef with that bird?” and she realized she’d been sawing at her hen’s leg with a little too much zeal. No way was she going to admit she’d had the fleeting urge to cut off Ryan’s cheating wanker.
Good Lord.
Loosening her grip on the knife, she joked, “A little tough.”

“Really?” Leo asked. “Mine’s perfect.”

“Mine, too,” Luke said. “And Rocky’s right. This stuffing’s amazing. We could use a gourmet chef like you at the Shack.”

“I’m not a gourmet chef,” Chloe said, “and you’ve already got a perfectly wonderful culinarian on staff.”

“True,” Luke said, “but we could always use another.”

“No, we couldn’t,” Devlin said.

Chloe bristled. Was that his way of saying she wasn’t good enough to cook for the restaurant he partially owned?

When Luke balked, Devlin cut him off with a raised brow. “Do you
want
Anna to quit?”

“Of course not. But—”

“He’s right,” Chloe said, not wanting to side with Devlin but acknowledging his wisdom. Anna wouldn’t welcome another chef into her kitchen. She’d consider it a slight or intrusion. Egos were as rampant in the culinary world as the entertainment industry. “Ever heard the cliché ‘too many cooks in the kitchen’? Besides, I have a job.”

“Darn straight!” Daisy pointed her fork at Luke. “You’re not stealing my cook and chauffeur.”

“Speaking of driving,” Leo interjected. “Heard you two had a run-in with Deputy Burke.”

Everyone at the table shot him a look.

“What? It’s a small town. People see things. People talk.”

“Home of the busybody,” said Nash.

Daisy snorted. “Billy Burke’s a pinhead and a scoundrel.”

Luke grinned. “Don’t hold back, Gram.”

“He got fresh with Chloe!”

Monica gaped.
“What?”

“A misunderstanding,” Chloe blurted.

“I’m handling it,” Devlin said.

Which implied Billy
had
been out of line. True. But not a truth she wanted unleashed. She didn’t want to be the talk of this table, let alone the town. And the
last
thing she wanted was for Devlin to handle
her
problem.

“Maybe I should be the one to take this on,” Luke said to his brother. “Considering you need the city’s approval on renovations—”

“And considering the deputy is the mayor’s son,” Nash said. “Not a good time to piss off a Burke.”

“Part of the reason I’m walking on eggshells with Tasha,” Rocky said. “Not that Billy shouldn’t get an earful.”

“Just not from Dev,” Nash said. “You’re too close, too, Luke. Let me handle Billy. Trust me. My pleasure.”

“Not up for negotiation,” Devlin said. He nabbed a newly opened bottle of chardonnay. “Who wants more wine?”

Chloe gawked, stunned by his insistence to be her champion. Did he actually believe she’d been wronged or did he simply relish an opportunity to knock heads with a Burke? She shot him an irritated look that said,
Butt out,
at which point he had the nerve to grace her with his first smile all evening. A smile that should have burned her butt and instead stoked a sensual fire. Flustered, she drained the last of her chardonnay, hypersensitive to the sudden lull in conversation. As for the rest of the family, having everyone rise to her defense was humbling and weirdly wonderful, albeit unwanted. Managing her own mess was vital to bolstering her self-esteem. Plus the offense, though smarmy, wasn’t worth risking a legal hassle for Daisy. Nor did Chloe want to jeopardize Devlin’s store renovations, since, financially, that affected
all
of the Monroes.