In the Mood for Love (18 page)

“I’ll be fine.” She didn’t want to get into her real motivation for supporting the Cupcake Lovers and was looking to redirect the conversation when Rae stepped in.

“Did you see some of these name suggestions?” the soft-spoken heiress asked while scrolling down her phone. “Sugar or Maple if it’s a girl. Jago or Oakley if a boy? I blame it on the celebrities who made it trendy by naming their children after fruit and months of the year. No offense, Harper.”

“None taken. I didn’t have a hand in naming those babies.” Or any baby for that matter. None of her clients had had children under her watch. Drug issues, alcohol issues, extramarital issues, yes. Babies, no.

“Have you and Luke decided on a name yet?” Rocky asked.

Rae, who was close to six months pregnant and looking stylish as ever in a cute sundress and wedge-heeled sandals, smiled at her sister-in-law. “You asked me that last night. The answer is still no,” she said with a teasing smile. “But we’ve narrowed it down. I can tell you it won’t be Peaches or December.”

Rocky laughed. “Well, at least with you, I know to shop for a girl. Do you know how frustrating it’s been not being able to shop gender-specific for Dev and Chloe’s baby?”

“They wanted to be surprised,” Rae said. “I think it’s sweet. Speaking of sweet…”

She trailed off and in the lingering silence Harper looked up from her iPad, mid-text. Rae and Rocky were both smiling at her. “What?”

“Luke told me Sam got awfully cozy with you during lunch. I thought maybe he was exaggerating. But I keep seeing Sam stealing peeks at you and…” She smiled even bigger. “He’s totally smitten with you, Harper.”

“Tough guys like Sam don’t do smitten,” Harper said.

“Okay,” Rocky said. “He’s hot for you.”

“I think there’s more to it than that,” Rae said.

“It’s a physical thing,” Harper gritted out in a near whisper. “Just sex.”

Rocky smiled.

Rae blinked. “
Really
? How long has
that
been going on?”

“A while. Here and there. Off and on.” She didn’t intend to share details, but Harper was determined to squelch the illusion of love. Entirely for her own benefit. Love would muck up everything. “It’s not a big deal.”

“He invited you to Sunday dinner,” said Rae.

“You left your job in L.A.,” said Rocky.

“You did?” Rae asked.

“Booted out is more like it,” Harper said, “but the result is the same.”

“So you’ll be staying on permanently in Sugar Creek?” Rae asked.

“That’s the plan,” Harper said, glancing at Sam who was now talking to Luke. She was starting to feel incredibly guilty about this marriage of convenience. She knew Sam’s family and friends were anxious for him to find true happiness and new love and Harper was marrying him for a freaking green card. “Excuse me,” she said, anxious to escape. “I need to catch up on some of these posts.”

She spied a corner, but she also spied a television mounted close by. A senior couple was staring up at the screen, shaking their heads.

“What is it?” Harper asked as she moved closer.

“A young man opened fire in a terminal at O’Hare in Chicago,” the man said.

“Apparently he had a bone to pick with TSA, but he shot at anyone in uniform,” the woman said. “It’s just awful.”

“A few minutes ago, they mentioned a school shooting in Montana,” the man said. “What’s this world coming to?”

Harper stared at the screen. Aerial shots of the airport. B-roll of the terminal. Interview with a cop. Her mind filled in the blanks. Panicked innocents running for cover. Victims covered in blood.

“I’m Spike Martini,” the man said. “This is my wife, Rose.”

“I’m one of Daisy’s sisters,” she said. “Dev’s great-aunt. And you are?”

Stunned spitless
.

An airport shooting. A school shooting. Why not a hospital shooting? What if a grief-stricken man who’d lost his son or daughter or wife to a botched surgery burst through the doors of Pixley General, guns blazing? What if he took out the Cupcake Lovers and all of Sam’s family and …

Sam
.

Harper felt his calming presence, his hand on her shoulder. “Aunt Rose, Uncle Spike,” he said. “I see you’ve met Harper.”

“Not officially,” Spike said.

She realized then that she’d neglected to answer their question. Her brain had latched on to the shooting.
Another
shooting. She couldn’t tear her gaze from the screen. How many people had died? What were the shooter’s motives? Did someone try to talk him down before he turned the gun on himself?

“Harper’s the publicist for the Cupcake Lovers,” Sam continued. “Mind if I borrow her for a moment?” He palmed the small of her back. “Come on, hon.”

She was mortified. Because she’d frozen. Because she was trembling. She saw the look of concern on Spike’s and Rose’s faces. And when Sam guided her out of the room, she saw everyone watching.
Dammit
.

Once in the hall, Sam cupped the sides of her face and looked into her eyes. “Let it go.”

She nodded, even though a dozen what ifs clogged her brain.

“How’s the cybercelebration going?”

“What?”

He nodded to the iPad clutched tight against her chest.

She blinked out of her daze, opened her Facebook page. She skimmed the happy posts, the smiley faces, the new pledges. “Good. It’s good.”

One arm around her waist, Sam angled in. “Show me how that works.”

She swallowed hard, corralled her senses.

Luke stepped out of the waiting room. “Everything okay?”

“We’re good,” Sam said.

But then Dev, a renowned control freak, blew in out of nowhere, looking uncharacteristically harried. He stopped short of the waiting room, jammed a hand through his dark hair. “Exactly who I wanted to see. Thank you, Jesus. Now I don’t have to go in and face everyone.”

Harper’s stomach knotted.

“What’s wrong?” Luke asked.

“Chloe wants to get married.
Now
.”

“Whoa.”

“It’ll be short and sweet and extremely private. Hospital policy limits visitors and they’re balking on raising quantity even by one person.”

“No wonder you don’t want to brave the waiting room,” Luke said. “The only thing we’ve all been anticipating as much as your baby is your wedding.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” Dev said, “but right now I’m most concerned with making my girl happy.”

“How can we help?” Sam asked.

“Gram and Vincent are grabbing the preacher,” Dev said. “Luke, I need you to distract Chloe’s dad. He’s driving me nuts. You know Roger. He likes you. I left him in the café. Go do your thing, and when the preacher arrives, I’ll give a shout. I can swing Roger and Mom and Dad in the room, but that’s about it.”

“Understood.” Luke rapped his brother on the shoulder then took off.

Dev turned to Sam. “You know the armoire you made me? Master bedroom. Bottom left drawer. Marriage license. Rings.”

“Even if I race the back roads, we’re talking forty-five minutes, Dev.”

“The longer you stand here—”

“Got it.” Sam snagged the house key from Dev’s hand then looked to Harper. “Ready?”

He didn’t want to leave her. She could see it in his eyes. He was worried she’d have a meltdown. She wouldn’t. She was past that now. As long as she stayed away from the TV and resisted Googling
airport shooting
.

“Hold on.” Dev glanced from Harper to the waiting room then back. “Is that an iPad? It has a camera, right?”

Harper nodded. “Yes. Why?”

“You’re coming with me.” He turned to Sam. “Why are you still here?”

Against her better judgment, Harper planted a peck on Sam’s cheek. “See you when you get back, Rambo.”

Before she could step back, he palmed the back of her neck and kissed her full on the mouth. Then he was gone.

Dev grasped Harper’s elbow and hurried her toward the elevator. “That was interesting.”

“You have no idea.”

NINETEEN

“Chloe have the baby?”

“Not yet,” Luke said. “But I do have news.”

Adam switched his android to speakerphone and balanced it on the sink’s vanity. The last thing he needed was to drop it in the john. “All ears.”

“Dev and Chloe got married.”

“What, for real?”

“Like ten minutes ago. In her hospital room. Took all of four minutes.
If that
. Chloe had a contraction and Dev told the preacher to hurry. Mom and Dad and Chloe’s dad witnessed. Dev sat on the bed next to Chloe and they both palmed her belly, as if holding their baby as they said the vows. It was freaking emotional. Crazy, considering the venue.”

“Thought you weren’t in the room,” Adam said.

“I wasn’t. But thanks to the Cupcake Lover’s publicist, several family members got to watch on their androids via something called Skype.”

“I know Skype,” Adam said as he dropped to his knees and snapped on a pair of latex gloves. “Unlike you, I’m not a Luddite.”

“I’m working past that,” Luke said. “Anyway Rae and Rocky got all teary so they slipped into the bathroom to fix their faces. Jayce is speaking with Dev and I’m taking a breather, trying to get my head past this delivery thing. Chloe’s been in labor for hours and it doesn’t look like the baby’s coming any time soon. They might have to schedule a Cesarean.”

“Not necessarily a cause for worry, right?”

“No. So the doctors and everyone say. But how would you feel if it were your wife and baby?”

“Not sure,” Adam said honestly as he doused the bowl in blue. At the rate he was going, he wasn’t sure that day would ever come. “If you’re worried about Chloe facing complications—”

“Of course I’m worried. And if
I’m
worried, imagine how my brother must feel. Just the thought of Rae—”

“Don’t go there.”

“Easier said than done.”

“Rae’s healthy, right? Baby’s healthy? Everything’s good?”

“Yeah.”

“Then don’t borrow trouble. Stay positive.” Adam stepped off the pep talk he often gave to nervous students and suggested a break instead. “Maybe you should take Rae home. Make her dinner. Hang out until you get the call instead of waiting and stressing. Plenty of other relatives there, right?”

“Yeah. Although some are breaking and coming back later. Leo just pried Monica out of here. She’s even further along than Rae and he’s worried about her getting overly tired.” Luke blew out a breath. “So what are you doing?”

“Scrubbing the toilet.”

“What do you mean?”

“Blue stuff. Scrub brush.”

“It’s Saturday night, Adam.”

“Yup.” Since Adam was on speakerphone he was pretty sure Luke could hear the squirting, spraying, sloshing, and flushing as he endeavored to rid his toilet of any dried pee splashes and assorted gross stuff on the bowl and tank. It’s not that Adam was a disgusting slob, but a girl was moving in.

Tonight
.

“When I called Nash to tell him Chloe was in labor,” Luke said, “he told me you bailed on the fishing trip with him and Kane. Tell me it wasn’t to clean your house. I’m seriously starting to worry about you.”

Luke was one of the few people who knew about Adam’s long-ago broken affair with Rocky. Adam had brooded over several beers at the Shack for several long months. He was done with that now. But he had been preoccupied with his secret goal.

“You know how I was looking for a roommate?”

“Yeah.”

“Found one.”

“Who?”

“Peppy Redding. Know her?”

“Not well, but yeah. I know she’s always been a pain in her dad’s ass and that nothing’s changed on that front. Not for anything, Adam, but that girl’s notorious for having wanderlust. Vincent said she picked up some gigs with a regional band, but her bank account’s bare. What if she sticks you for the rent?”

“She paid a month up front. I’ll worry about July in July.”

“If she’s still in town then.”

“Could you be any more cynical?”

“Just looking out for a friend. You’ve been working your ass off for months, socking away money for whatever this goal of yours is. You’ve been deliberate, focused, cautious. Taking on a roommate was a financial decision, yet you welcome the first applicant who knocks on your door? An unreliable musician with a restless soul and debt up to her eyeballs? A woman, no less? How’s that going to work when you have a lady over for the evening? Oh, wait.”

“What?”

“Are you hot for her?”

“No.” Adam stashed the cleaning supplies under the sink then did a one-eighty. Clean and lemony. Good to go. “She’s cute, but she’s not my type. Plus she’s aloof.”

“Then what?”

“I feel sorry for her.”

“Oh, hell, Adam.”

“I appreciate you calling with the update on Dev and Chloe, but I need to go.”

“Don’t let her get under your skin. I know you and—”

“You’re one to talk. You who hires a new waitress every time a girl’s desperate for work even though you’re always overstaffed.”

“That’s the Shack. This is your home.”

“Hanging up.”

“Toss anything moldy from the fridge and don’t forget to vacuum between the sofa cushions. Clipped toenails and chip crumbs tend to gross girls out.”

“Bye.” Adam rolled his eyes, then on second thought checked the fridge one last time. He wasn’t worried about the sofa. He chucked a questionable peach then snagged a bottle of apple juice. Halfway to the living room, he heard a loud bang. Sounded like a car backfiring, but way out here, who knew? Could’ve been someone taking a potshot at a gopher. He moved to the living room window and spied Peppy getting out of her car and kicking the tire. She looked mad as hell. Kind of like last night. And earlier today. Adam got the sinking feeling that Peppy Redding was perpetually bent out of shape. Like he needed that aggravation, but what was done, was done. Adam, unlike some people he’d known, always kept his word.

He pushed through his front door, properly dressed. Jeans, tee, sneaks. And for good measure, a baseball cap. Nothing sexy or inappropriate. No reason for her to avoid his gaze.

Yet she did.

“Need help?” he asked as he neared.

“No. Yes. Maybe. I don’t know.” She kicked the tire again. For good measure … or maybe she was just angry with the world and needed to kick something, anything. “I don’t have much,” she said as she pulled open the back door of her dinged-up car. “Couple of suitcases. Couple of guitars. An amp. Some recording gear. I travel light.”