by Beth Ciotta
She wasn’t sure why she’d been so flip, so crass. It wasn’t like her. Except her pride was smarting. She hated that Luke was looking at her like she was the biggest mistake of his life when he was her bona fide favorite.
Drawing on her mother’s questionable acting skills, Rae rolled her eyes. “It was sex, just sex, and not even great sex at that. Go home, Luke.”
She slipped into the bathroom and locked the door, fighting tears, fighting nausea. Now, in addition to thinking she was a lying, selfish rich bitch, he also thought her a slut. People were always labeling her something or another based on stereotypes. She shouldn’t care.
She cared.
Don’t cry. Don’t cry.
Luke knocked on the door.
Rae turned on the shower.
When at long last the outer door finally opened and shut, Rae cried.
FOUR
Six weeks later …
Sugar Creek, Vermont
“Ah, come on. They can’t be that bad.”
“No offense, Luke, but these are quite possibly the worst cupcakes I’ve ever tasted.”
Luke raised a brow at his sister’s blunt assessment of his chocolate cupcakes. Rocky always shot straight from the hip. Usually he liked that about her. But not right now. A little encouragement would be nice.
“I don’t know about the worst,” Chloe said. Although she was still grimacing after swallowing.
“Don’t sugarcoat it, kitten,” Daisy said. “He’ll never learn if you do.”
“I’m not sure he can learn.” This from Ethel Larsen, one of the senior members of the Cupcake Lovers and one of Daisy’s closest friends. “Luke, honey. Just because your grandma, sister, and cousin have a gift for baking, that doesn’t mean you automatically do.”
“Sam’s the one who told me to get a hobby,” Luke reminded them. Apparently, Luke had been driving his friends and family crazy for several weeks. Not on purpose, but he was bored. He wasn’t dating anyone and he didn’t like being alone. He could only work so many hours at the Sugar Shack, so he’d been volunteering to help folks with various projects or trying to rope them into social activities. When Sam had suggested Luke take up a hobby, Sam had been on his way to the weekly Cupcake Lovers meeting and Luke had thought, what the hell. He’d been working hard to mend bridges with Sam, and maybe they could man-bond over man cakes.
Casey Monahan, part of the younger set of this club, regarded Luke with strained patience. “If Sam were here tonight, I’m sure he’d tell you he was thinking of a hobby along the lines of a poker club or bowling team.”
“You know we love you,” Monica said, “but this is your third meeting, Luke. The third batch of cupcakes you’ve shared with us and every batch has been worse than the one before.”
“Who substitutes maple syrup for vegetable oil?” Casey asked.
He’d been out of oil so he’d improvised. That’s what he did when he mixed drinks and it usually worked. “The consistency seemed right,” Luke said in his defense.
Daisy thunked her hand to her forehead.
Luke frowned. He couldn’t even count on his own grandma to defend him. He looked at the women seated around Dev and Chloe’s dining room table. He’d known all of them, with the exception of Chloe and Monica (transplants from the Midwest) all of his life. The Cupcake Lovers had been around since World War II. They were presently in the process of having their very own recipe and memoir book published—which was sort of exciting if you asked Luke. Baking was out of his realm, but he liked the social aspect of the club and the charitable causes. Plus, he liked cupcakes. He’d been eating a lot of them lately. Just not his own.
“Listen. Just tell me where I went wrong here.” He gestured to their plates and his barely sampled cupcakes. “You told me to keep it simple. I did. Plain ol’ chocolate as opposed to the Chocolate Cherry Cola with Red Licorice or the Spicy Double Dark Chocolate.”
“Someone who’s never baked before shouldn’t be getting their recipes from Cupcake Wars,” Judy said.
Since the Cupcake Lovers prided themselves on unique cupcakes, that TV baking show had seemed like the perfect source to Luke. Also it was easier and faster to watch and listen than to search a printed book or the Internet. But, whatever.
“This one came straight from a cookbook I checked out of the library,” he said. “Monica helped me pick out the recipe.” Monica, who was Chloe’s best friend, worked part-time at the Sugar Creek Library. Luke went in there a lot to check out audiobooks. Getting her to help him choose an actual recipe book without betraying his reading disorder had been pathetically easy. When it came to hiding his lifelong dyslexia, Luke was a master of deception.
“I honestly didn’t think he could screw this one up,” she said.
“Where did I go wrong?” Luke leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Go on. I can take it.”
“They’re too salty,” Judy Betts, one of the senior members said.
“And gooey,” added Helen Cole, another senior and crackerjack baker. “What kind of flour did you use?”
Luke shrugged. “The white kind.”
“Self-rising?” Gram asked. “Or all-purpose?”
“There’s a difference?”
“Sweetened or unsweetened cocoa powder?” Chloe asked.
Luke furrowed his brow. He thought he’d bought the right one, but maybe he’d misread. When it came to reading, letters typically swirled and flipped. Patience was key and he didn’t always have it. “I didn’t look specifically,” he lied.
Everyone groaned then traded cryptic glances.
Luke braced. Because he loved people, people usually loved him. He was always the life of the party, the guy everyone wanted to hang with. He’d never been kicked out of a club or any other circle but he had the feeling the CLs were about to give him the boot.
His sister, who was also the president of the Cupcake Lovers, braced her forearms on the table and leaned forward. “Here’s the thing, Luke,” she said with a gentle smile.
Oh, yeah. He could almost feel Rocky’s boot heel on his ass.
“As you know,” she went on, “we’re coordinating several overseas cupcake care packages. We’re also struggling to hold on to that publishing contract. It doesn’t bode well that they put our project on hold.”
“I’m almost sorry Tasha moved to Arizona,” Casey said. “She had a great relationship with our editor. If she were still acting as our liaison, she could probably persuade Brett to keep the release date on track.”
Luke wasn’t one bit sorry about Tasha and Randall Burke’s unexpected move. Although she hadn’t been directly responsible, Tasha had played a role in the destruction of The Red Clover—Rocky’s former bed-and-breakfast. His sister’s home and all of her belongings had been lost in a fire set by Randall’s son, Tasha’s stepson—who was now serving time in jail. Tasha had tried to make amends, but that hadn’t gone so well and Randall hadn’t appreciated living in the fallout of the scandal. He’d retired early, giving up his position as town mayor and packing up his trophy wife (whom he really seemed to love, for reasons that eluded anyone who knew the catty woman), trading one million-dollar home for another. Randall was richer than that Facebook dude.
Sort of like someone else Luke knew. Although he didn’t really know Rae at all and tried very hard not to think about her.
“Tasha’s absence factors in on multiple levels,” Chloe said. “Even though she’s still an honorary Cupcake Lover, she’s not a local member. It puts a kink in the overall package considering she contributed so many recipes and stories.”
“Not to mention she’s featured in photos and the publicity video,” Monica said.
“Also,” Chloe went on, “Brett wasn’t lying when he said there’s a glut in the cupcake market. Between that, Tasha leaving, and the whole Rachel snafu, I can see where we’ve lost some of our appeal.
“If we only had a gimmick,” Ethel said.
“I hope they don’t cancel our deal altogether,
” Helen said.
“Would we have to give the advance money back?” Judy asked. “How would that work?”
“I know I was never a fan of this project, but there’s no denying the extra income would benefit our special causes,” Rocky said. “Take Sugar Tots for instance. I still can’t believe Gretchen closed the day care center and moved on just because she lost her grant money. We could have helped. A little anyway.”
“Every time I think of Sugar Tots I think of Rachel,” Casey said. “I mean Rae. Anybody heard from her again?”
“Just that one letter,” Chloe said. “The same one that everyone else got a few weeks ago.”
Everyone but Luke.
One good thing had come out of his disastrous visit to California. He’d made Rae feel guilty enough about fleeing Sugar Creek in the middle of the night that she’d finally written a letter to each and every member of the Cupcake Lovers apologizing for her abrupt departure. She’d also apologized for pretending to be someone she wasn’t, explaining she’d been desperate to escape the limelight and certain pressures associated with her family. She hadn’t meant to hurt anyone and hoped that in time they’d forgive her. She’d then personalized each letter and wished each person well, saying she’d be the first in line to preorder Cupcake Lover’s Delectable Delights—Making a Difference One Cupcake at a Time.
The only reason Luke knew all this was because Rocky had shown him her letter and, of course, Rae’s true identity had dominated the gossip portion of the CL meeting two weeks back—Luke’s first meeting. Everyone, including Sam, had been stunned that Rachel was actually Reagan, and that she was the daughter of the famous starlet Olivia Deveraux. Stunned, confused, curious, but not angry. Luke didn’t get that. How could they not be angry? She’d lied to them. For a year.
Then again, they’d each gotten an apologetic letter.
Every time Luke thought about it his blood burned. He’d flown across the entire freaking country and Rae hadn’t confided spit. Sure, she hadn’t given the CLs details, but she’d given them some semblance of an explanation. All Rae had given Luke was a hard-on and a guilty conscience. Oh. And bonus. A freaking complex.
He still couldn’t believe he’d had sex with her. Especially since she’d been drinking. He’d never taken advantage of a woman like that. He’d meant to walk her to her door then walk away. But she’d wobbled and he’d steadied her. The moment they’d touched … Pow! She’d kissed him or maybe he’d kissed her. He didn’t even know. It was all a blur. A spontaneous carnal mating that dogged his conscience and dreams.
“Yo. Luke.”
Luke blinked and focused on his sister. “What?”
“Chloe asked if you wanted more tea.”
Rattled, he shifted in his chair. “Uh. No. Thanks.” Considering he was in the company of eight ladies, one of them his grandma, three of them as old as his grandma, he was more than a little embarrassed that he’d been fantasizing about nailing Rae. “So am I in or out?”
They all gawked.
“Of the club,” he clarified.
They traded another round of those cryptic looks.
“Here’s the thing, sweetie.” Daisy pushed her blingy cat-eye glasses up her nose then reached over and patted his hand. “We don’t think you have a real passion for baking and that’s the number-one requirement for being a Cupcake Lover.”
“I don’t believe this. You’re kicking me out of the club.”
“We wouldn’t do that,” Judy said.
“Especially given your state,” Helen said.
Luke frowned. “What state is that?”
“Depressed.”
“Bored.”
“Lonely.”
“Single.”
Luke blinked around the table. What the—
“To my recollection,” Ethel said, “You’ve always had two or three girlfriends at a time.”
“You don’t have any now,” Casey said. “Haven’t had since … when?”
“It’s been months,” Monica said with an ornery twinkle in her eye.
He blamed Rae.
“It was sex, just sex, and not even great sex at that.”
Every other woman he’d ever been with had declared him a god in bed. Then again, he hadn’t even made it to the bed with Rae.
“You’re off your game,” Chloe said with a sympathetic smile.
“And so close to Valentine’s Day,” Helen said. “Doubly depressing.”
“Have you thought about Ellie Tate?” Judy asked.
“You know,” Daisy said. “Bert Hawkins’s granddaughter. She recently moved back to town, fresh out of college. Doubt she’s ready for anything serious.”
“Young. Unfocused. Right up your alley,” Casey said.
Heart pounding, Luke gawked. Oh, hell, no. This same crew has been trying to match Sam up with a soul mate for weeks. Luke had caught a glimpse of that hell and wanted no part of it. “Can we get back to my status in the club, please?”
Rocky took pity on him. Sort of. “We’re not kicking you out, Luke. Just…”
“Don’t make any more cupcakes,” Daisy said.
“Unless supervised,” Chloe, his ever-kind someday sister-in-law, added.
“Speaking of Valentine’s Day,” Monica said to Rocky, “your wedding day is around the corner. Are you excited or what?”
And just like that the conversation turned to wedding plans—gown, flowers, honeymoon. As if that wasn’t bad enough, someone brought up bridesmaids’ dresses, which spurred mention of special fittings for Chloe, who was six-months pregnant, and Monica, who was newly pregnant and eating for three.
Baby talk.
Luke eyed Dev’s expensive wine rack, jonesing for a cheap beer and sports talk. He should have joined a damned bowling league.
FIVE
“Thanks for picking me up, Sam.”
“No problem.”
“You didn’t tell anyone I was coming, right?”
“You asked me not to. Won’t take long for word to get out though. You know Sugar Creek.”
Yes, she did. A tight-knit community. The tourist element notwithstanding, everyone knew everyone’s business—mostly. Amazing that she’d maintained her ruse for an entire year. Then again, Rae had worked very hard at being invisible. She was done with that now. Ready to attack life as Reagan Deveraux. She intended to use her semicelebrity status and money to help the Cupcake Lovers and to resurrect Sugar Tots. But that wasn’t the only reason she’d returned to Sugar Creek.
Rae pulled up the fur-trimmed hood of her down-filled coat, shivering as a gust of frigid air blasted her face. February in Vermont.
“Colder than Los Angeles,” Sam teased as he relieved the pilot of her baggage.
“Just a little.” Juggling her purse and a rolling tote, Rae followed Sam across the tarmac to his truck. When she’d flown out of LAX, it had been in the low sixties. When she’d landed in Burlington it had been a brisk twenty-eight degrees. From there she’d rented a plane and pilot to take her to Starlight Field—a small airfield about thirty miles outside of Sugar Creek. It was dark now, after eight, and she’d wager the temperature was closer to twenty with a windchill of less. She didn’t mind the cold or the snow. She only wished she’d arrived during the daylight so she could’ve been welcomed by the beauty of the surrounding mountains.
“Let me take that.” Sam placed her tote in the backseat of his extended cab along with her two burgeoning suitcases.
“I’m sorry I made you miss the CL meeting tonight,” Rae said as Sam opened the truck door and helped her climb in.
“I’m not. I needed a break.” He shut the door and rounded the hood then climbed in, revved the engine, and cranked the heat. He did not, however, shift into gear.
Rae squirmed in her seat, shoved off her hood, and fastened her seat belt. “You’re staring.”
“Yeah. Sorry. Your hair.”
“Really short and really red. I know.”
“I like it.”
“Tha
nks.” She dragged an anxious hand through her cropped do and tried to acclimate to her new relationship with Sam. It had been easier long distance.
He’d been the only Cupcake Lover to write her back. Then again, she hadn’t included a return address on any of her letters and hadn’t openly invited a reply. It had been her way of putting the past to rest and moving on. Sam had gone out of his way and had finally obtained her PO Box information. His letter had been so kind and, at the time, she’d been in a bad place. His words had proved balm for her anxious soul. She’d felt compelled to call in response. They’d spoken a few times over the last two weeks, mostly to clear the air. But in those conversations they’d also struck up what Rae tentatively thought of as a friendship.
“You sure about this?”
Rae nodded. “Absolutely.”
“You don’t look sure.”
She shifted and, by the light of the moon on the dash, she caught the concern in Sam’s eyes. Concern and … a flash of desire. The latter was disconcerting. She thought they’d moved past that. They’d certainly discussed it. She’d made it clear she wasn’t interested in an intimate relationship. He’d said he had no intention of pushing. She thought that meant he’d given up the pursuit. Now she wasn’t sure. It was troubling and flattering at the same time. Sam didn’t have a problem with her being an heiress. And he wasn’t intimidated by her college degree. His confidence was attractive. If only she were attracted.
She searched his ruggedly handsome face wondering why she couldn’t have fallen for him instead of Luke. Sam was grounded and successful. He had two great kids—Ben and Mina—whom she adored. He’d been attracted to Rae even when she’d been doing her best to look as drab and frumpy as possible. That was admirable, right? They’d had a date, one date, but she hadn’t felt a spark. Not then, not before. Certainly not after. Mostly she’d felt awkward.
Kind of like now.
“I’ll admit,” she finally said. “I’m a little apprehensive about reconnecting with everyone.” Luke’s reaction to her ruse was a bitter pill she’d yet to swallow. Would others lash out in kind? “After all, I lied about who I was. Am.”
