Fool for Love (21 page)

“You know something I don’t?”

“No, but I have my suspicions.”

“Which are?”

“My own.” He flashed a grin while pouring Dev another beer. “Also heard about the shoplifting incident.”

“From who?” Chris had contained the mess and Devlin had swept up the pieces. It chafed that a trusted employee had turned a misunderstanding into fodder for gossip. Then it dawned. “Ah, hell. Mitzi Hall?”

“She was in here for happy hour. The woman was half-soused and obviously exaggerating. I cut her off and sent her home in a cab.” Luke offered him a bowl of spicy party mix. “So what really happened?”

Devlin waved off the snack and filled him in, minus the part where he and Chloe had ravaged each other in Chris’s office.

“So what gives with her dad?”

“Don’t know.” He hadn’t asked. He’d been too worried about
their
dad. Too swept away by an urgent need to lose his misery in Chloe.

Luke slid a menu under his nose. “You should eat something.”

Devlin glanced from his frosty mug to his warmhearted brother. Luke’s caring nature was his best quality and worst enemy. If he knew what their dad was going through … “Trying to keep me sober?”

“Trying to figure out why you want to get drunk.”

If he met his brother’s gaze he just might slip, divulging their dad’s condition. When Devlin had promised his mom to keep the diagnosis secret, he hadn’t realized he’d feel like this much of a traitor to his siblings. What if she was wrong or what if she’d sugarcoated his dad’s progress? What if Devlin was robbing Luke and Rocky of quality time? Robbing himself? Suddenly he couldn’t live with that promise. Or at least one part of it. “I’m flying down to Florida this weekend.”

“What? Why? Oh, wait.” Luke gestured to the beer mug. “Is that what this is about? Dad stonewalling your renovations?”

“I need to talk to him face-to-face.”
Need to assess his condition.

“Guess that would drive me to drink, too. When the old man’s got his mind set on something … Or against something…”

“We’ll come to terms.”

“This weekend, huh?”

“Friday to Sunday should do it. That a problem?”

He shrugged. “Just surprised you’re willing to leave Chloe unattended that long. Thought you didn’t trust her with Gram? Although, you won’t have to worry about a chunk of Friday and Saturday. Then Sunday’s the family dinner, so that’s covered. On second thought, your timing’s great. Go. Haggle with Dad. Hug Mom.”

“What’s up with Friday and Saturday?”

“Rocky wanted some one-on-one time with Gram this weekend.”

“And?”

“That means free time for Chloe.”

“So?”

“So Nash invited her on a hot-air balloon tour and I offered to escort her to the food festival in Burlington.”

Devlin cursed a pang of jealousy. “When did this happen?”

“A couple of hours ago.”

After their passionate encounter. After she’d refused to pursue the attraction between them due to feeling vulnerable in regards to her recent breakup. Yet she was willing to spend time alone with Nash and Luke? Sugar Creek’s most notorious hounds? Devlin tried to give her the benefit of the doubt, tried not to read into it.
Jesus.
They weren’t even in a relationship and she had his emotions in a tailspin.

Luke raised a brow. “You did ask us to keep an eye on her, remember?”

“That didn’t include hooking up.”

“Who said anything about hooking up? Just welcoming her into the community and keeping her out of trouble. You have to admit she’s prone to misfortune.”

“Similar to Janna.” In their on-and-off two-year high school romance and even during their short six-month marriage, it always seemed like he was rescuing her from one or another predicament.

Luke swept away Devlin’s half-empty mug and replaced it with a cup of steaming black coffee.

“You’re cutting me off after two beers?”

“You just brought up Janna,” he said in a low voice. “Someone you haven’t talked about in years. And,” he said, looking aghast, “you compared her to Chloe. You must be sloshed. They’re nothing alike, Dev.”

“You don’t know her background.”

“You do? Not for anything, but you two haven’t seemed all that chummy to me. When and why did she confide … Oh, hell. Jayce?”

“I have a right to protect my family.”

“She has a right to her privacy. Jesus, Dev.”

“She’ll never know. She’ll be gone in two months. Probably sooner. As you pointed out, it’s been one misfortune after another, plus Gram’s more of a handful by the day. Chloe’s not one to stick when things get tough.”

“Like Janna.”

The name stung like salt in an open wound. “Forget I brought her up.”

“I wish I could.”

Devlin pushed off the stool. “Stop looking so glum. I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”

“Wish I believed you.” Luke shouted for Anna to cover his shift, then catapulted over the bar and nabbed the keys out of Devlin’s hand. “I’ll drive.”

*   *   *

“I’ll walk you to the door.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. You’re blitzed.”

“You’re screwy.” Rocky shrugged off Adam’s hold, then fell back against his SUV. “Oops.”

“Like I said.” He looped an arm around her waist and practically carried her across the lawn. “You should’ve slept over at my place.”

“Against the rules.” Unable to hold her head up, she lazed against his broad shoulder and squinted up at the night sky. “Moon’s moving. Cool.”

Adam groaned. “I’m putting you straight to bed.”

“Can’t come in. Jayce.”

“Is rooming here for a week. You told me. So what?”

“Won’t approve.”

“Of me taking care of you?”

“Of me in this connition. Ca-di…” She pinched her tongue. “Numb.”

“Come morning, babe, you’re going to wish your whole body was numb.”

Just as he swooped her up the porch stairs, the front door whooshed open.

Busted.

She felt like a teen breaking curfew. A teen who’d been caught sneaking in. “Uh-oh,” Rocky mocked, then lapsed into a fit of giggles. She tried to stop, couldn’t stop, and finally gave in. She hadn’t felt this good in a long, long time.

“Everything okay?” Jayce asked.

Rocky snorted. “And he calls himself a detective.”

Adam tightened his hold as her knees gave way. “I don’t know what happened,” he said to Jayce. “I’ve watched her drink three beers without getting buzzed. Two glasses of champagne and … this.”

“She’s allergic.”

“What?”

“White wine, champagne. It’s the sulfites.”

“I didn’t know.”

“Rocky knows.”

She heard the censure in Jayce’s voice and smirked. “Fuck you.” Then she turned in Adam’s arms—
strong , dependable Adam
—and smiled up at him. “Thank you for a lovely evening.”

He smiled back. “I’ll see you upstairs.”

“I’ve got her.” Before she knew it, she’d been hauled into Jayce’s arms—the honorable bastard who’d annihilated her young foolish heart. “Good night, Adam,” he said.

“Make sure she drinks lots of water and give her some ibuprofen.”

“I know what to do.”

Rocky mimicked Jayce, then blew Adam a kiss. “See you in the morrow, I mean tomorrow …
partner.
”

Her good humor fled the moment Jayce carried her inside and shut the door. She’d met up with Adam for a late date, needing to escape, feeling smothered by Jayce’s presence, bombarded with memories and feelings that wouldn’t die. Even now, even though she wasn’t thinking straight, her body responded to this man with a clarity that shook her core. “Need a drink.”

“You’ve had enough.” He swept her limp body into his arms and scaled the stairs. “How long have you been seeing Adam Brody?”

She rolled her eyes. “We’re not
seeing
each other. We’re just sleeping together.”

“Dev didn’t mention—”

“Dev doesn’t know. No one knows.”

“Just me. Huh.”

“Jealous?”

“That what you were hoping for?”

“Ashfully,” Rocky said, head spinning. “That just schlipped, I mean sipped out.”

He smiled down at her, causing her heart to race.
Damn him!
“Champagne? What were you thinking, Dash?”

She was thinking that she didn’t want to think … or feel. Revisualizing one dream and facing a broken dream in the same day had been rough. “We were celebrating.”

“Celebrating what?” He nudged open her bedroom door with his shoulder.

She wanted him to throw her on the bed, to make slow, hard love to her, which in turn made her want to drive him away. “Our partnership.”

“You’re getting married?”

She snorted. “That what you were hoping for?” If she married someone else, he’d know that she’d healed and moved on, alleviating his guilt.

He laid her gently on her bed. “You’ve shut me out for almost thirteen years. We’re not going to talk about it now.”

“Why not?”

“Because you won’t remember this discussion tomorrow.”

“What do you care?”

“I care.”

She stared up at him, her heart thudding slower and harder. A monstrous noise roaring in her ears, her vision blurring. “I don’t feel so well.”

“I know.” He squeezed her hand. “Hang tough, sweetheart. I’ll get aspirin and water.”

She could feel herself slipping, falling into a dark, chaotic oblivion. She grasped his shirt and tugged him close. “Jayce?”

“Yeah?”

“I hate you.”

He brushed his mouth over hers. If only she could’ve felt it. “I hate you, too, Dash.”

TWENTY-ONE

Wednesday blew by quickly, followed by most of Thursday. The weather had turned ugly, cold and rainy, keeping Chloe and Daisy inside and impromptu visitors away—although many had checked in by phone. While some had lamented the unexpected thunderstorms, the “Soul Sisters” (as they’d begun to refer to themselves) had embraced the isolation, exploring their specific culinary interests. They’d searched magazines and surfed the Internet for recipes. Chloe got Daisy addicted to her favorite food blogs and Daisy hooked Chloe on the TV show
Cupcake Wars.

They talked about things they’d done in their lives and things they’d like to do.

They baked.

Bread. Cookies. Biscuits. Cupcakes. Daisy had even taught her how to make homemade marshmallow fondant, which tasted a lot better than the store-bought variety. To her amazement, working with sweets hadn’t soured Chloe’s mood. She’d been prepared for feelings of anger or depression when she mixed up a batch of devil’s food cupcakes. She’d braced for a mental replay of presenting Ryan with her celebratory cake only to receive the news of his betrayal. Instead, her brain fixated on the rock music blaring from the radio and Daisy’s instructions regarding the espresso meringue frosting. Part of Chloe felt like she was back in culinary school—exploring, learning. She got the same buzz off of Daisy’s teachings as she did off Chef Avery’s. Every lesson was couched within a story, making the recipe more memorable and poignant. Another part of Chloe spun wistful scenarios. If she hadn’t lost her mom, if she’d ever known Grandma Vine, or if Grandma Madison would’ve been more demonstrative, maybe they would have shared similar moments. Connecting with Daisy, hearing her nostalgic stories, sharing a love of cooking, filled a void in Chloe’s life—as did the anticipation of hanging out with Luke and Nash this weekend, joining Rocky and Monica for the meeting tonight, and, on Sunday, cooking dinner for all of them with the addition of Sam and his two children and Devlin’s friend Jayce. Even though Chloe was at odds with her dad, even though Ryan had dumped her, even though she ached for Devlin’s touch, she’d never been happier. In her heart, she’d adopted a family.

Sitting cross-legged on the sofa with her laptop, Chloe surfed the Net, skimming various recipe books, specifically those featuring cupcakes. Not that she planned on offering any suggestions or advice during her first Cupcake Lovers meeting, but she wanted to be prepared should anyone ask. Given her short stint in PR, her brush with photography and her experience in culinary school, she definitely had some ideas.

“How that boy couldn’t know better is a mystery to me,” Daisy said as she joined Chloe in the living room.

“What boy?”

“My great-nephew Sam. Just got off the phone with him,” she said as she plopped next to Chloe. “He started refinishing his hardwood floors two days ago, the same week he was supposed to host Cupcake Lovers. He’s a furniture maker for crying out loud. Works with sanders and stains all the time. How could he not know that the floors wouldn’t be completely dry by tonight? And the toxic
smell
? For crying out loud!”

Chloe frowned. “So the meeting’s canceled?”

“No, no. Just moved. I told Sam he could host the meeting here, but he’d already asked Devlin. That’s two weeks in a row. At this rate, my grandson will become an honorary member by virtue of loaning out his house.”

“Why would Sam ask Devlin? Why not another club member?”

“Why indeed?” Daisy thought about it, then leaned close as if she had a secret to share. “Here’s a thought: Devlin doesn’t have much of a social life. That boy’s a workaholic.”

“I’ve heard.”

“Serious minded, too.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“Maybe Sam’s trying to get him to join the club.”

Chloe’s lip twitched. “I can’t imagine Devlin baking cupcakes. I’m not sure he even knows how to cook. I’ve seen him shop. He’s all about convenient, processed foods.”

“That’s because, like most men, he never took the initiative to learn his way around the kitchen. Which is usually fine, because usually the wife handles that end of the partnership, except Devlin married a girl who didn’t know a Dutch oven from a skillet. Then she was gone and…” Daisy trailed off and looked away. “Maybe you could give Devlin some cooking lessons.”

Chloe barely registered that last part. She was fixated on the wife part. “Devlin was married?”

“Never mind about that. In fact, put it out of your mind completely. And for heaven’s sake never mention it. To anyone. Ever.” She bounced off the sofa and beelined up the stairs.