by Beth Ciotta
SEVEN
Devlin stood in the middle of his grandmother’s living room cursing himself for not acquiring Chloe’s cell number. Prodded by his sister, he’d come to smooth things over. Only Chloe wasn’t here and neither was Gram. The Caddy was also missing. He glanced at the blue Samsonite sitting next to the front door. Assumedly Chloe’s. What had been so urgent that Gram hadn’t even allowed her new companion to unpack?
His phone rang. He didn’t recognize the number. “Devlin Monroe.”
“Hey, Dev. It’s Bert Hawkins. Sorry to bother. Called J.T.’s and was told to call you at this number, seeing this is about your grandma.”
“Go on.”
“I tried talking her out of tubing, but she was adamant.”
“Tubing? As in tubing down the river?” He flashed on the days when he and Luke would tether their inner tubes to a small watercraft, usually piloted by one of their uncles or sometimes one of Bert’s summer crew. They’d shared many a wild ride, bouncing in the wake of the boat, sometimes going airborne. Sometimes wiping out. Heart pounding, Devlin blew out of the house. “What the hell, Bert? Don’t you have restrictions?”
“Sure. Age six and up and must weigh at least fifty pounds. I had no legal ground to refuse her, but Daisy’s had a lot of mishaps lately and, frankly, I’m not comfortable with this responsibility.”
Devlin’s blood pressure spiked as he sped out of town toward the river. “Tell me she’s wearing a life jacket.”
“Them’s the rules.”
That didn’t mean Daisy wouldn’t pitch the jacket once she was out of Bert’s sight. “You’ve probably heard Gram has a new and aggravating habit of breaking the rules.”
“That’s why I’m calling.”
“Did her companion at least try to talk her out of this stunt?”
“Miss Madison? Barely said a word, except to argue over swimwear.”
Chloe in a bikini. An image Devlin could’ve done without. He floored the Escalade and glanced at his watch. “When did they leave?”
“Fifteen minutes ago, give or take.”
If he hurried he could head them off at Grenville’s Overlook. “What took you so long to call?”
“Daisy threatened to make my life miserable if I alerted any of her kin, but after careful consideration, I decided I’d rather risk her wrath than yours. Oh, and one more thing, Dev. Your grandma’s tubing in her skivvies.”
Fan-fucking-tastic.
He didn’t ask about Chloe. All the same, the vision of her in a lacy pink bra and matching panties exploded in his brain. By the time he neared Grenville’s he had a hard-on and a short fuse. A dangerous combination. He parked the Escalade and speed-dialed Rocky as he stepped onto the historic covered bridge and looked upriver. “You want me to be nice to Gram’s new companion? Then you better talk me down.”
* * *
Chloe couldn’t believe she’d let Betty White goad her into doing something against her better judgment. Granted, Sugar Creek wasn’t all that wide, and as far as she could see there was nothing but flat water ahead. But that didn’t mean something awful couldn’t happen. Like someone spotting them in their impromptu bathing suits. Or getting sucked in and pulled under by unexpected crosscurrents or a powerful whirlpool. Sure, the latter was far-fetched, especially since, according to Bert, entire families free-floated down this section at the height of the season. But it was possible. Anything was possible.
“Relax.”
Chloe glanced at her employer. Since her skinny patooty was wedged in the donut hole of the inner tube, no one could see her nude knee-length girdle. Her Playtex bra was also hidden thanks to the three-buckle nylon life vest. Her bony arms and legs dangled over the side of the tube, and her creamy white, softly wrinkled face was tilted to the sun. She looked blissfully peaceful. Happy.
Chloe couldn’t help herself. She smiled. “Your family’s going to kill me when they hear about this.” She was talking specifically about Devlin but didn’t want to bring up his name.
“No, they won’t. I won’t let them. Now relax and enjoy the ride.”
Chloe sighed and settled deep into the tube. Since she wasn’t wearing a body shaper and had refused to strip to her thong, she’d talked Bert into loaning her a pair of swim trunks. Never mind that they were men’s trunks and three sizes too big. Could’ve been worse. Could’ve been a Speedo. She’d also refused to float down Sugar Creek in her bra, but then Daisy had called her a prude and Bert had shown her the life vest that would conceal her entire upper body. What the hell? Anything to appease her new boss on her first official day. She’d done crazier things.
“Been a long time since I floated down Sugar Creek,” Daisy said. “Used to come here all the time with my brothers and sisters. Sometimes we’d swim, sometimes we’d paddle in a rowboat, and sometimes, when we snuck away from our parents, we’d jump off Grenville’s Overlook cannonball-style.”
Charmed by the story, Chloe allowed her fingers to trail in the rippling water and closed her eyes, basking in the warmth of the sun. “What’s Grenville’s Overlook?”
“An old covered bridge. Overlooks the river. We’ll be passing under shortly. Years later,” she went on, “I brought my own children here. Jessup—that’s my husband, rest his soul—didn’t want me parading around in a bathing suit when he wasn’t with us, and since he was always busy at the store I settled on allowing the kids to join their cousins and uncles and I’d wait with my sisters at Willow Bend, gossiping and preparing for a family picnic.”
“That must have been fun,” Chloe said, sensitive to the wistfulness in the other woman’s voice. “Hanging out with your sisters.” As an only child, Chloe had always been envious of people with sibling relationships. The good ones anyway.
“Not as much fun as tubing or boating. Time raced by and before I knew it I was watching my grandkids’ water shenanigans. They enjoyed tubing, too, although they preferred getting towed behind a motorboat. More of a thrill.” She snickered. “Little daredevils. I remember the first time I caught Devlin and Luke jumping off Grenville’s. My heart stopped. But then they broke the surface, laughing and hooting, and I remembered how it felt throwing caution to the wind.”
Chloe remembered, too. She flashed back on all the chances she’d taken over the years. The thrill of the unknown. The rush of flying by the seat of her pants. Going for it. Sometimes she failed. Sometimes she soared.
Her memories evaporated when she realized Daisy had fallen silent. Chloe glanced over just as the woman shrugged out of her life vest and hurled it away! “What are you doing?”
“Throwing caution to the wind. Never wore those pesky things back in the day.”
“But…” Chloe sat up so fast she almost fell overboard. “Dammit, Daisy.”
“Stop being such a worrywart.”
“If anything happens to you—”
“I’ll die a happy woman.” She giggled and paddled with her hands, pulling ahead of Chloe. “I feel like a kid again!”
“You’re certainly acting like one.” Chloe debated whether to retrieve the castaway life vest or catch up to her runaway boss. She spied the bridge up ahead and a sharp bend beyond. If Daisy drifted out of sight … Chloe paddled for all she was worth. “Put this on,” she said as she closed in.
“No, thanks.”
“I’m not asking; I’m telling.” A desperate need to take charge of a potentially dicey situation made Chloe’s tone and actions clipped. She unbuckled the last strap and thrust her vest at her crazy boss. “Swear to God, if you don’t put this on, I’ll latch onto you or your tube and somehow muscle you to shore.”
“Your bra’s showing,” Daisy said with an ornery grin.
“I don’t give a flip about modesty just now.” In the past, she’d performed as a party motivator, sometimes wearing beaded corsets or bras as part of her costume. It’s not like she’d never shown some skin, and besides, her pink and red floral demi-bra could almost pass as a bathing suit top. Almost.
&nbs
p; “Glad to hear that, kitten.” Daisy snatched the life vest, but just as she shoved one arm through, a male voice bellowed from shore. “Bert must’ve snitched,” Daisy grumbled under her breath. “The rat.” Then she yelled, “Don’t bust a blood vessel! I’m coming!”
Chloe looked to where Daisy looked and yelped. Just ahead, striding down a rocky slope and toward the edge of the lapping water: Devlin Monroe. Of all the … Her skin burned and her heart pumped. Two thoughts hijacked her brain.
He’s going to kill me.
He’s seeing me in my bra.
The latter caused her to fling herself over the tube into the river. A knee-jerk reaction.
The splash caused Daisy to look over her shoulder.
“I’m fine!’ Chloe told her, clinging to the tube, her scantily clad body hidden safely beneath the murky water. “Keep going!” The sooner Daisy reached shore, the sooner Devlin would stop worrying, the sooner his temper would cool. She hoped.
Daisy paddled and kicked toward her grandson while Chloe frantically explored her options. How was she going to emerge from this fiasco with her pride intact? Once on dry land, she could hold the inner tube in front of her, hiding her bra. Although that seemed kind of childish. Not to mention she couldn’t get in a car like that. She could brazen it out and pretend her bra was a bathing suit top. Why was she being so neurotic?
Because you’re attracted to the man.
Another source of embarrassment. She’d been single less than a week and she was already hot to trot? She wasn’t a prude, as Daisy had suggested, but she wasn’t promiscuous either.
“Get the hell over here!” Devlin shouted to Chloe just as he pulled his grandma out of the water.
Chloe snapped out of her daze, realizing she’d floated under the bridge and was gaining speed. She could feel a difference in the current. Up ahead the river took a sharp turn. Was that Willow Bend? Bert had pleaded with Daisy to end their ride at Willow Bend, nixing the whitewater portion of the ride. She’d agreed, but Bert hadn’t looked convinced. Although as soon as they’d pushed off, Daisy had reassured Chloe—no rapids. Except Daisy wasn’t with her now and she had no idea how close or far she was from the more challenging part of the course.
Her pulse raced remembering when she’d vacationed in Florida with her dad and mom. She’d only been eight at the time. Her swimming skills extended to dog-paddling, so she’d been using one of those old inflatable donuts, something like an inner tube only flimsier, when the undercurrent had swept her far from the beach and …
“Oh … my … God.” She scissor kicked with a vengeance, frantic to get to shore. She felt the oversized trunks slipping down her legs but refused to let go of her two-armed strangle grip on the tube. All she could think about was those rapids somewhere up ahead. Were they as fierce as some of the ones she’d seen on television? What if she went under?
She broke into a sweat even though she was chilled to the bone. Her vision blurred. She couldn’t see Daisy or Devlin. Why wasn’t she getting any closer to shore? She heard her name, heard a splash. She whipped around and saw someone swimming toward her in strong, easy strokes.
Devlin.
In a heartbeat, he was there. With her. Surrounding her.
She felt his arms close around her trembling body. She felt his warmth, his strength.
“You’re swimming against the current,” he said, maneuvering her around and guiding her toward shore. Which really wasn’t all that far, although in her panic it had seemed like miles. It reminded her of how her dad had dove into the ocean and rescued her, but not before a wave had taken her under. She’d been so sure she was going to drown.
Overwhelmed by a flood of emotions, Chloe choked on tears.
“You’re okay,” Devlin said, tightening his hold. “Almost there.”
She wanted to thank him. She wanted to apologize for freaking out. But her throat was clogged with embarrassment and relief and the thrill of his touch. If he held her any closer, they’d be one. His masculine scent made her dizzy and the feel of his warm breath on her neck as he continued to talk her down drove her wild. Moments ago she’d gone cold with fear and now … now every fiber of her body burned with desire. How could she be terrified one moment and turned on the next? Were her emotions that out of whack?
Apparently so.
Devlin half-carried her out of the water, before letting her go and easing away.
She swung around to face him, clinging to the inner tube while catching her breath and wits.
He stared.
She stared.
He’d shucked his shoes and socks before diving in, but other than that he was fully clothed. And soaked. His khaki Dockers clung to his muscled thighs and his white oxford shirt melded to his chiseled torso.
Wow.
Frowning, he raked his wet hair from his face—a sexy move that knotted her stomach—then started unbuttoning his shirt.
Face burning, she blurted, “What are you doing?”
He raised a brow in answer, his blue gaze sliding down her trembling body. She realized suddenly that she’d lost Bert’s trunks in the river and that she was standing there in her thong and demi-bra. The inner tube pretty much covered her front, but Devlin had seen her backside when he’d carried her out of the water. Just now said backside was exposed for the world to see—should anyone happen by.
Shoot me now.
He moved in behind her, concealing her bare butt, and helped her into his shirt.
She dropped the tube and hurriedly buttoned up. Although his shirt was soaked and probably see-through, it was better than nothing.
She started to thank him, but Daisy emerged from a thicket of trees, hurrying toward them in her bra and girdle. “Are you all right?” she asked Chloe.
“I’m fine. You?”
“Dandy. Except for my killjoy grandson here. I—”
“We’ll talk about this when everyone’s dry and decent.” Stern-faced, he guided them through the trees, up an incline, and toward the covered bridge.
Even though his bare torso was glorious to behold, it was difficult to enjoy when his mood was so prickly. Chloe fell into sullen silence while contemplating the best way of defending her actions without blaming the entire mess on Daisy.
Daisy pouted from the time Devlin loaded them into his Escalade to the moment he dropped them at Bert’s, where they retrieved their clothing and the Caddy. Once the two women were alone in the old car, Daisy let loose with her gripes and concerns about her uptight, controlling grandson, then lapsed into an excited ramble about tonight’s cupcake meeting. She had a new recipe that she was dying to share and hoped Tasha—whoever that was—didn’t rain on her parade, again. The conversation was mostly one sided. Partly because Daisy wouldn’t stop talking, partly because Chloe was obsessing on the man who’d insisted on following them home.
Unsettled and dreading a showdown, Chloe was beyond relieved when she parked the Caddy in Daisy’s driveway and, after pausing to make sure they headed directly inside the house, Devlin kept driving.
Maybe he’d decided there was nothing more to talk about. He’d pretty much said it all with his hard looks and stony silence. Chloe had screwed up and he wasn’t happy about it.
She could live with that. Now if she could just erase the image of those wet clothes clinging to his hard body and the memory of his strong embrace, she would be, as Daisy was fond of saying, dandy.
Desperate for a shower and some downtime, Chloe grabbed her suitcase. “If you could show me to my room—”
“Later.” Daisy grasped her arm and tugged her toward the kitchen. “I don’t know about you, but I could use a cocktail. While we’re at it, I want your opinion on my Cinnamon Applesauce Cupcakes. By the way,” she added before Chloe could get a word in, “I think my grandson has the hots for you.”
EIGHT
“I can’t believe Dev allowed you to borrow his house,” Monica said. “For the meeting, I mean. He’s so private. Wasn’t he worried we’d poke arou
nd?”
“Worried enough to scrub the bathroom and kitchen,” Rocky said as she poured her friend a cup of Earl Grey. “He must’ve really gone at it. The toilet bowl’s gleaming.”
“You checked the toilet?”
“Are you serious? You know men.”
“I know Leo. He’s usually pretty good, but once in a while he splashes the rim. What’s so hard about aiming their willies for the middle?”
“Did you just say ‘willy’?”
“Leo and I made a pact to clean up our potty mouths. You know, for when the little one comes.”
Was that a hint of thrilling news? Rocky grinned. “So you’re—”
“Not yet. Hopefully soon. You’d think after three months of doing it every day, twice a day…”
“Wow.”
“Yeah, well, Leo’s starting to wear on stamina … and patience. Don’t get me started.” Monica sipped tea, regrouped, then smiled. “So, why’d you ask me to show early? What’s up?”
“My curiosity. Maybe you know something I don’t.”
“About?”
Jazzed for juice, Rocky leaned in. “Did Chloe call you about today?”
“You mean the tubing incident?”
“Dev called me before everything played out. Then after to let me know everyone was okay. No freaking details. He sounded pissed, broody even. I’m guessing he blames Chloe for indulging Gram’s whim. I’m guessing he gave her hell when just this morning I begged him to be nice to her. So did he?”
“Give her hell?” Monica shook her head. “More like the silent treatment.”
“Sometimes that’s worse. Means he’s stewing. If and when he blows … yikes.”
“I actually think there’s more to it.” Monica leaned forward as well, an ornery gleam in her eye. “Did Dev tell you that he met Chloe yesterday at Oslow’s and that they shared a moment?”
“What kind of moment?”
“A brief flirtation.”
“Dev doesn’t flirt.”
“Chloe was pretty certain, which is why she was so surprised when he acted like a dick, crap, wiener last night at Luke’s. Of course, Dev didn’t know who he was flirting with at Oslow’s. Chloe ran out before introductions.”
