The Trouble With Love (16 page)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Cocoa powder, baking powder, brown sugar, canned pumpkin.

Chewing her thumbnail, Rocky studied the multiple ingredients lined across her counter. Something was missing. She glanced at the vintage recipe she’d printed off the Internet. Peanut butter! She rifled through her pantry and snagged a jar of smooth. Or should she use chunky? No, smooth. Definitely smooth. She was already using ground almonds.

Nervous energy fueled Rocky’s restlessness. She’d been zipping around her kitchen for a good two hours. Poring over recipes, sorting through ingredients. At last she’d settled on a baking project. Something productive to keep her from obsessing on her emotional confrontation with her brother. Something to distract her from the fact that she hadn’t called and warned Jayce.

You might get a visit from Dev. FYI, I told him about the jailbait hookup.

On the other hand, she had texted Luke, Chloe, and Monica:

CONFESSED ALL 2 DEV ABT JAYCE. SORRY IF I PUT U IN AWKWARD POSITION.

Chloe texted back within seconds:
THANK U!

Monica texted:
Movin’ on!

Typically, Luke had called.
How bad was it?

Not that bad. Which makes me feel worse.

Want to talk about it?

No.

Okay,
Luke said.
Visiting Sam today, but I can swing by after. Give you a lift to Gram’s for dinner.

I’m not sure—

Pick you up at four.

Instead of arguing, Rocky had sucked it up. It’s not like Dev, Luke, or Chloe was going to bring up her indiscretion over dessert. Rocky was fairly certain they’d never mention it again. Still, she felt self-conscious.

What was Jayce feeling? Thinking? Was he going head-to-head with Dev this very minute? A warning from her would have been courteous, but dammit she was still angry with the man for misleading her in New York. He should have told her he was moving home
before
they hit the sack. Because of that incredible one-nighter—their
second
freaking amazing one-nighter—Jayce had her more twisted up than ever, not that she intended to admit that to him. She wasn’t sure
what
she was going to say when they next met—which she hoped wouldn’t be for a few days at least.

She glanced at her phone, snuffed a flash of guilt. If Dev
did
confront Jayce, the cocky PI could handle himself, and besides, this was what he’d wanted. No more secrets.

Where do we go from here?

Pushing Jayce from her mind for the zillionth time, Rocky focused on her supposed distraction.

A new Creepy Cupcake treat.

The Spookytown Spectacular was five days away. She had plenty of time to prepare and her Gingerbread Pumpkin Cupcakes had already gotten the thumbs-up from the Cupcake Lovers. Not as the featured giveaway, but as cupcakes to be sold in order to benefit the Sugar Tots playground fund. Thing was, Tasha planned on selling her Death By Maple cupcakes and everyone in town knew how incredible those cupcakes were. Tasha’s famous DBMs would sell out long before Rocky’s GBCs. Honestly, aside from the twist of crystallized ginger, her Gingerbread Pumpkins were pretty standard. Any baker with a lick of talent could whip up the same delicious concoction. She hated to admit it, but she’d been a tad irritated when the editor and publicist of Highlife had fawned more over the Death By Maples than any of the other cupcakes they’d tasted from the CL sampler. The more she thought about it, the more it bugged her. She wasn’t about to let Tasha show her up at the Spooktacular.

Hence a new recipe.

Rocky had experimented with banana and pumpkin, but while pouring batter into the cupcake liners she’d remembered Monica saying something about using that combo. Desperate for unique inspiration, Rocky had skimmed a few baking sites online. That’s when she’d run across a recipe that had been handed down from one Turlington generation to another. Not that Rocky knew the Turlingtons, but she was a sucker for tradition. She took it as a supreme challenge to put her own spin on a traditional recipe while staying true to the original concept. Hence a mere variation on measurements and spices. Maybe an adjustment on texture. A unique topping design. Something to make it her own.

Caught up in a creative blitz, she cursed when someone knocked on her front door. It had to be Dev.

Or Jayce.

Chloe was manning Moose-a-lotta solo. Gram was at church along with most of the other Cupcake Lovers. Luke was visiting Sam.

Oh, hell.
What if it was Adam? Nice, reliable, always reasonable Adam, coming to bury the hatchet. She’d been hoping to mend their friendship. Just not today.

Rocky moved quickly, wanting to slay the suspense.

Don’t let it be Jayce. Don’t let it be Jayce.

She straightened her spine and opened the door.

So much for wishful thinking.

Rocky stared at the Adonis standing on her front porch, her heart bucking like a wild stallion. Faded blue jeans, black peacoat, black boots. How could basic casual wear be so sexy on a man? His longish hair was raked back from his chiseled features. His goatee neatly trimmed. His killer eyes hidden behind those damned aviator sunglasses. She hated that she couldn’t see his eyes, read his intent. She hated that she wanted to jump his infuriating bones.

“Nice play,” Jayce said.

Her fluttery insides churned. “Dev came to see you.” Narrowing her eyes, she noted a slight discoloring along the Adonis’s jawline. “Oh, God. Did Dev
punch
you? Did you hit him back?”

“Why would I do that?”

Because it was the natural thing to do? Reflex? Pride?
“If someone hit me, I’d strike back.” She flashed on the knockdown drag-out she’d had with Tasha a few weeks back. It’s not that Rocky was violent, but she wasn’t a doormat either. “So what happened? Did he tear you a new one? Brand you a disappointment? Lecture you? Threaten you?”

“He brought coffee and Danish.”

“What?”

“He may have dropped a curse word or two; then he asked about my new business venture.”

“What?”

“Secret’s out. Guilty parties admonished. Moving on,” Jayce said.

Rocky gaped. “It can’t be as easy as that.”

“Maybe it is.”

Was that supposed to make her feel better? It didn’t. It intimated that she’d made a mountain out of a molehill—for thirteen freaking years. Torn between mortification and fury, Rocky struggled not to slam the door in Jayce’s face. “Okay. Well, I’m glad Dev didn’t shoot you. You’re right. Secret’s out. No one died. Moving on. Good luck with your new venture.”

She gaped as Jayce ignored the brush-off and stepped inside. Fidgeted as he pocketed his shades, scanned the tarp-covered furniture, the stripped walls, and the sanded banister and newel post of the stairway. She prided herself on maintaining a picture-perfect interior. Currently every room, including the back porch and roof, was in the process of upgrades.

“I’m not sure who’s living in more chaos,” he said. “You or me.”

Rocky couldn’t think straight, so she clung to his observation. “Makes me batty. The upheaval,” she clarified. “But the contractors promised they’d be done soon. Two weeks more. Approximately.”

“Even in the chaos, your flair for decorating shines through. I could use some decorating advice,” Jayce said, knocking her even more off balance. “Since the last tenants moved out, I had the walls repainted and the floors refurbished, but other than that … I’m thinking the kitchen could use an overhaul. New cabinets, appliances.”

Rocky blinked. Were they really talking home renovations?
What the hell?
“I can suggest some home décor magazines.”

His lip twitched. “I’d prefer your hands-on expertise.”

She scrunched her brow. “You want me to decorate your house?”

“I shipped up a few of my furnishings and essentials like cookware, linens, sentimental belongings, but for the most part I’d like to start fresh. I want to transform my parents’ house into a home. My home.”

She had to admit, she was intrigued. She’d only been inside Jayce’s house a couple of times, and she’d always left with the same impression. No sense of warmth. No sense of him. “Have a particular style in mind?” she heard herself asking.

“Not really. But I am partial to comfort and character.” He gestured to her living area. “Something like this or similar to Daisy’s décor. Something that feels like…”

“Home.”

“I need help.”

Rocky’s heart pounded. The look in his eyes. The tone of his voice.
Vulnerability?
“As it happens, I do have some time on my hands.” Renovating Jayce’s place would keep her occupied and out from under the construction crew’s feet here at the Red Clover. Plus, it would be fun. “And I do like to decorate,” she reasoned out loud. “I’m a hell of a bargain shopper, if I do say so myself.” Channeling Gram’s reckless zest for life, Rocky took the plunge. “Have a budget in mind?”

Smiling a little, Jayce pulled his wallet from his inner coat pocket and passed her a credit card. “The balance is clear and the limit’s high.”

“You’re trusting me with a platinum card?”

“I’m trusting you with my home.”

Huh.
That was kind of hot. And scary. Rocky contemplated the financial responsibility, the thrill of the task, and the danger of spending a
lot
of time with Jayce.

“What’s cooking?” he asked with a sniff.

The trial batch of cupcakes she’d made before she’d decided to give the Turlington recipe a whirl. Rocky glanced at her watch. “Crap.”
Two minutes too long.
She pocketed Jayce’s credit card, beelined to the kitchen, and opened the oven door. The heat and combined scents of pumpkin and banana overwhelmed. Using a pot holder to slide the muffin pan closer, she stuck a toothpick in the center of the toasty-topped cupcake. “Done. Way done.” She deposited the piping-hot pan on a cooling rack, scowled. “Damn.”

“They look fine to me,” Jayce said.

“Shows what you know about baking.”

“I know nothing about baking.” He moved in behind her, crowding her space, making her nerves jump and her skin tingle. “Maybe you can give me a lesson sometime. Seems a fair trade when I taught you a thing or two.”

He was referring to their sexual escapades in New York. Rocky’s cheeks burned, and her girly parts ached. She pushed away the memories. Unfortunately, desire lingered. She didn’t want this.
Or do I
? She’d just agreed to redecorate his house. Which meant she’d be spending a lot of time
at
his house. With … him.
Jesus.
“If you think you can erase that argument in New York by distracting me with sex, you’re wrong.”

“I should’ve told you sooner that I was moving home. I apologize.”

She blinked over her shoulder. “You do?”

He nodded. “I’d also like to revisit that discussion regarding our past.”

“That makes one of us.”

“I’m sorry if I was insensitive, but—”

“Let’s leave it at that for now.” She wasn’t ready for another heart-to-heart. She’d had enough of that for one day. At the same time, she gave him credit for trying. Desperate to redirect the conversation, she gestured to the Banana Pumpkin Cupcakes. “As soon as these cool you can taste one. If you like, you can have. Just let me frost them first.” Anything to get rid of the man who scrambled her thoughts and senses.