The Trouble With Love (30 page)

“Bad timing.”

“Why?” Rocky’s heart pounded as Jayce kept his gaze trained on Brewster. Jayce was angry.
What the hell?
“You always complain about me shutting down on you. How is this different? Talk to me, Jayce. Are you saying you … you
love
me … or something?”

“You’re just now figuring this out?”

Rocky flushed, blindsided and confused by the conversation as well as the confrontational vibes. “I know you’re attracted to me. I know you care about me. You said so the other night. And I feel it. I do. But as far as love … We’ve been at odds for years. And these last few days, mostly it’s been about sex and getting to know one another. How would I know … why would I assume you’d fallen in love so fast?”

“Fast?”
He shoved a hand through his hair and then, finally, shot her a look. A look tinged with hurt. “Rocky, I fell for you the first time we made love.”

She blinked. “Thirteen years ago?” Her stomach churned with a weird mix of elation and anger. “Why didn’t you say something before?”

“You wouldn’t have believed me. You had it in your head that my proposal was based on duty, period. You rejected me. For years. And the longer you rejected me the more I rejected my own feelings. Pride. Self-preservation. You said I broke your heart; well, honey, you blew a massive hole in mine.”

Rocky swallowed hard, trying to put everything in perspective. She hadn’t been the only one to reject Jayce. She glanced at the house.
His parents.
She blew out a breath. “I’m a little overwhelmed just now. Maybe we should set this topic aside for later.”

“Good idea.”

“Are you still mad?”

He turned then and took her into his arms. “I’m not mad, Rocky. Just … give me a damned inch, will you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I worry about you. I want to take care of you. Make sure you’re safe. Billy’s just one concern. Things happen. Bad things. Unexpected things. I’ve witnessed more shit than…” He closed his eyes, then refocused. “You think you’re impervious, hon, but you’re not.”

She’d never been afraid of living in the middle of nowhere on her own. She still wasn’t. But she understood and respected Jayce’s feelings. She thought back on how he must’ve felt when he’d picked her up—bruised and bloodied—at that New York hospital. “Not budging on the alarm system, but I guess some motion-detector lighting wouldn’t hurt.”

He smiled against her forehead. “I’m thinking that was half an inch, but I’ll take it.”

Feeling his mood lift a little, Rocky hugged Jayce tight, reinforcing their new connection. Yes, she was still a little unsure about their relationship—this was a first for her—but she wasn’t running or pushing him away. “The first time we did it, huh?” she teased good-naturedly.

He glanced at the small chalet. “The one good memory connected with this place.”

Before she could comment, Brewster nudged their legs. “He must be thirsty,” Rocky said, noting Brewster’s panting. “It’s warm today.”

Jayce reached down and ruffled the dog’s ears. “Let’s take this inside.” He nabbed a mixed bag of dog supplies from his trunk while Rocky led Brewster to the shade of the porch.

“How big of a path should I clear for that delivery from Molly’s?” Jayce asked as they scaled the front steps.

“Path?” But as soon as Jayce opened the front door of his house, she understood. The entryway and living room were jammed with boxes and crates. A leather recliner was the only piece of exposed furniture. That and a television and laptop. Stunned, she followed Jayce into the kitchen. More boxes. “You’ve been here, what, four days? And you haven’t unpacked anything?”

“Can’t decide where to put anything. Nothing feels right.” He pulled a porcelain bowl out of the bag and filled it with water.

Rocky resisted the urge to move in and hug him. His tone had been casual, but she sensed discomfort. This house. The house he’d grown up in.
She
was his only good memory?

Brewster trotted in and made a beeline for the water dish. The tension cracked as Jayce smiled down at the slurping dog, then up to Rocky. “Want some coffee? I did manage to unpack the automatic drip.”

She smiled back. “Sure. Then you better start on that path.” She thought about the rolltop desk on its way over from Maple Molly’s. “A
wide
path. As for deciding where to put stuff…” She glanced around the kitchen and back into the living room. “Leave that to Brewster and me. Could take a while,” she added after opening a couple of boxes. “How do you feel about overnight guests?”

She’d be damned if she’d leave this house without infusing it with a few more good memories.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Luke was one of those guys who always woke up in a good mood. Not so today. Maybe because he’d tossed and turned all night and when he had slept he’d had crazy-ass erotic dreams about Rachel. Not cool.

Sam’s girl, Sam’s girl.

Not only that, but Luke would bet the frickin’ Sugar Shack she knew about his dyslexia.
How
he didn’t know, but it bugged the hell out of him. Made him feel stupid, even though he knew he wasn’t. So here he was attracted to his cousin’s girl, a girl who knew Luke had a reading problem and either felt sorry for him or thought he was a moron. Worse, he had to work with her. Several nights a week for who knew how long. Firing her wasn’t an option. She hadn’t done anything wrong. Nope. This was 100 percent his problem—hence his sucky-ass mood.

Luke rearranged the back bar, thankful the Shack had been fairly quiet. The calm before the busy festive weekend. Since Anna was back to work and Gena, the second bartender on staff, had said she wouldn’t mind an extra night, Luke was seriously considering taking the night off. Aside from Sunday, he rarely took one. Maybe distance or a good lay would clear his mind.

“Hey, bud. The usual.”

Luke noted Adam’s reflection in the back bar mirror. Again with the somber expression. Again with a visit pre–Happy Hour. Luke nabbed a glass and turned. “Don’t you have lessons to give somewhere? Horseback riding? Boating? Fishing?” Adam worked as a freelance sports instructor for several local resorts. Skilled and personable, he was always in demand.

“In between seasons. My slow time. So”—he raised an annoyed brow—“no.”

Undeterred by his sarcasm, Luke pressed. “I know you have hobbies. If I were you,” he said while serving up the beer, “I’d take advantage of the slow time instead of hanging out here crying in your booze over my sister.”

Adam shot him a stormy look.

Oh, shit.

“You know about me and Rocky?”

“I caught her at a bad time a few weeks ago and she slipped. It’s not common knowledge; trust me.”

“
This
is awkward.”

“You sleeping with my sister?”

“Past tense.”

“Yeah, well, I try not to think about it.”

“Me, too.” Adam sipped beer, then focused on the bar. “I really care about her, Luke.”

“Let it go, man.”
Rocky and Jayce have history.

“Working on it.”

Just then Sam walked into the pub.
Damn, damn,
damn.

“Hi, Adam.”

“Sam.”

“Got a sec, Luke?”

“Sure. My office?”

“No. This is fine.” Sam settled one stool over from Adam. “I’ll have what he’s having.”

A freakin’ broken heart? Beautiful.
Luke poured Sam a Beck’s.

“Rachel here?”

“Not yet.”

“I’ve called a couple of times, to check in, but missed her,” Sam said.

And she didn’t call you back? Shit.

“Just wanted to make sure she’s doing okay here at the Shack.”

“Only one night under her belt,” Luke said, “but, surprisingly, yeah, she’s doing okay.”

“Who knew?” Adam mumbled.

“Knew what?” Sam asked.

“That Rachel was so—”

“Personable.” Luke shot Adam a look. Was he really going to comment on Rachel’s sexy figure?

“I was going to say
good with people,
but, yeah, ‘personable’ covers it,” Adam volleyed with a look that said,
Give me some credit.

“I’m not surprised. If she can handle a bunch of rowdy preschoolers, I suspect she can handle just about anything if she needs to. Living on her own, she
needed
a job.” Sam sipped beer. “Still can’t believe Gretchen let her go. With no notice, no less. I asked around. A couple of parents mentioned they’d caught a vibe, like Gretchen was jealous of how much the kids loved Rachel.”

“I thought she fired Rachel due to budget constraints,” Luke said.

“Then why did she hire another assistant?”

Luke frowned. “Thought she was relying on volunteers.”

“Who told you that? Rachel?” When Luke nodded, Sam shrugged. “Guess that was her pride talking. I’m telling you if it weren’t for the kids I’d stop construction on the jungle gym. Rewarding pettiness or, in this case, Gretchen sticks in my craw.”

“You’re building a jungle gym?” Adam asked.

“I had the supplies and the time and the kids need new playground equipment. Figured I could donate at least one piece.”

“Need some help?” Adam asked. “Apparently I’ve got too much time on my hands.”

“Sure.”

“Luke, can pitch in, too,” Adam ribbed. “Not like he has any girlfriends to entertain these days.”

Great. The Lovelorn Construction Club.
“I already pitched in for a few hours.” Luke glanced at Adam.
Smart-ass.
“But sure. Count me in.”

The main door opened, letting in a flood of sunshine and, Christ, was that a dog? And
oh no. Oh, hell. Rocky and Jayce.

Adam must’ve spotted them in the mirror. His expression hardened just before he lowered his head and grumbled, “Damn.”

Sam, on the other hand, turned and smiled. “What’s with the pooch?”

“His name’s Brewster,” Rocky said, beaming. “Isn’t he the cutest?”

“He’s a dog,” Luke said, stating the obvious. “Dammit, Rocky. Health regulations? Get him out of here.”

“You don’t have to be rude,” she said, ruffling the dog’s ears. “I just wanted to show him off and—” Her face fell when Adam swiveled around, making his presence known.

“Where’d you get him?” Sam asked, breaking the sudden silence.

“A gift from Jayce,” she said, looking uncomfortable.

“Thought she could use some company,” Jayce said.

“Other than yours?” Adam asked.

Here we go.
Luke braced to bust up a fight. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Rocky flushed. “We just stopped in for … Jayce ordered … That is…”

“I called ahead and ordered some takeout from Anna,” Jayce said easily, then turned to Rocky and squeezed her hand. “Luke’s right about Brewster, hon. Meet you outside.”

Luke resisted an eye roll. Hand-holding. Endearments.
We get it, Bello. You and Rocky are together.
It was not that he didn’t like Jayce, but damn, Luke felt for Adam.

The air crackled as Rocky and her mutt left the bar.

Jayce turned to Adam. “Problem?”

“Not unless you hurt her.” Adam turned back to his beer.

Sam followed suit.

Luke jerked a thumb toward the dining area. “Anna’s in the kitchen. Follow me.”
Okay.
He was definitely taking the night off. He didn’t want to deal with anyone’s crappy or complicated, love or sexual, problems.

Including his own.

*   *   *

Jayce had suggested a picnic as their first official date partly to appease Rocky’s discomfort with public outings, partly because he knew Brewster would be in the mix. Adopting the dog only to abandon him on his first night didn’t sit right with Jayce. Rocky had noted his soft spot for animals. She had no idea. Dogs especially. Universally they possessed the capacity for unconditional love, a concept that fascinated him. A practice that eluded the majority of mankind.

He glanced at Brewster, sprawled on the blanket, stomach exposed. Trusting and accepting of his new “people,” sensing somehow that he was in safe, loving company. Rocky, on the other hand, did not look so comfortable. She’d been subdued on the ride from town to river and even throughout their meal. Not that Jayce had been all that talkative himself. It had been a day of mixed emotions. Jumbled communication. He sucked it up and opened a foul can of worms. “Adam’s hung up on you.”

“I know. At least I do now.”

Jayce raised a brow.

Rocky tossed her half-eaten chicken leg back on the paper plate, rolled onto her back, and sighed. “It was supposed to be sex. Just sex.”

Which should have made him feel better but didn’t.

“I like Adam,” she said, staring up through the rustling orange leaves at the vibrant blue sky. “He’s a great guy. Nice. Stable. But I don’t love him. I never loved him. And frankly, I don’t get why he’s so fond of me. I never gave him reason … I never led him on. Plus … Honestly? I was a controlling bitch most of the time.” Another sigh. “Talk about confounding.”

“That’s the trouble with love,” Jayce said. “Makes no sense.” Over the years, every time he thought he had a grip on his own feelings regarding Rocky something would trip him up. A memory. The mention of her name or a brief interaction. Where she was concerned it didn’t take much to put him in a tailspin. Even though he didn’t want to commiserate with Adam Brody, Jayce did.

Rocky blinked up at the sky, then slid Jayce a wary glance. “I’m thinking if I keep my distance, Adam’s feelings will cool and he’ll find someone else. I really want him to find someone else. Someone nice. Adam’s a great guy.”

“So you keep saying.”

She scrunched her brow. “Are you jealous, Jayce Bello?”

“Uncomfortable. But I’ll get over it.” He stroked a thumb over her cheek. “I like to think I’m an enlightened man. Rational. We’re adults. We have history with other people. It’s just that your relationship with Adam isn’t quite history enough.”

Rocky’s mouth quirked. “This is probably the wrong thing to say, but that’s sort of sweet. You’re sweet. Brewster. The picnic. Pretending you like the desk when you really don’t.”

He’d been stunned by the enormity and beauty of the late-nineteenth-century rolltop. An exquisite piece of furniture more suited to Rocky’s Victorian home than his parents’ contemporary chalet. He’d never been comfortable with receiving gifts, and that desk had been a whammy. Still, he thought he’d done a better job of concealing his discomfort when the delivery guys had unveiled his present. “It’s not that I don’t like the desk, Rocky. It’s beautiful and thoughtful.”