by Beth Ciotta
“Swell idea. In fact, your entire concept is impressive, Chloe.”
“Really?”
“Far more imaginative and hip than a plain old bakery.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“I know you didn’t.” She grinned ear-to-ear. “So we’re going to do this?”
“I want to. I hope so. But…” She glanced away, embarrassed. “I need to look into a loan.”
“Why?”
“There will be significant start-up costs,” she said reasonably. “Leasing the space, redecorating and refurbishing, advertising, utilities…”
Daisy snorted. “I have enough in my savings to cover all that.”
Chloe flushed. “All my life someone, mostly my dad, has supported me financially. I can’t … I won’t ask you for money, Daisy.”
“You’re not asking. I’m offering. And it’s not charity. It’s a partnership. I have the money. You have the vision and know-how. A culinary arts degree, a background in publicity, experience with various eateries, and so much more.”
Chloe swallowed hard, her hands trembling with excitement. “It’s like everything I’ve ever done in life has led me to this moment. This is what I’m supposed to do.” Click. “Still, I don’t feel right about the money.”
“If it makes you feel better, you can invest later, paying me back half when you have the funds.”
“That would work, I suppose.”
“Of course it would. Think about it.” She patted Chloe’s hand. “Remember, it’s my dream, too.”
“All right, I’ll think about it. I mean, I’m in.” How could she rob this incredible woman of her dream? Chloe wouldn’t do that to anyone, especially not Daisy. “I just want to look into some financial options, so don’t…” She licked her lips. “Can we keep this secret for now? Just between you and me? I especially don’t want to bring it up to Devlin until we have everything thought out.”
“Good idea,” Daisy said. “Otherwise he might try to nix the idea, claiming it’s a risky investment.”
“Or try to take control,” Chloe said. “With the best intentions of course. Still.”
Daisy offered her scrawny hand and they shook, agreeing to organize a plan before breaking the news.
Rocky pushed into the room, carrying a vase of beautiful flowers and looking downright cranky. At first Chloe thought maybe Rocky was cross because of the nasty shiner under her left eye. It did look pretty painful. But then Chloe learned better.
“Who are those from?” Daisy asked.
“Jayce.”
“Such a sweet boy!” Daisy exclaimed.
“For a bastard,” Rocky grumbled under her breath as she set the arrangement alongside several others.
Chloe was quickly reminded that though Rocky had set the club on a better path and though she’d struck an agreement with Devlin to save her inn, her relationship with Jayce Bello was still shaky at best. At worst, a shambles.
Chloe also struggled with the guilt of keeping Devlin in the dark about Jayce and Rocky’s affair. At least she wouldn’t be keeping her plans for Gemma’s secret for more than a day or two. Not that Devlin didn’t have a couple of secrets himself.
Before she could question the wisdom of beginning a relationship with so many skeletons in the closet, Rocky broke in on her thoughts. “So, Chloe,” she said with a wicked grin, “please let me be the one to tell Tasha that you and my brother are…”—she glanced at her grandma and tempered her language—“… together.”
THIRTY-EIGHT
Chloe bounced around Daisy’s kitchen preparing what she considered to be her most important meal since that first Sunday dinner for the Monroes. She’d invited her dad over, wanting to impress him with what she’d learned in culinary school. She also hoped to further mend their relationship, although she wasn’t expecting miracles overnight, and to maybe pick his brain about starting up a café. Who better to ask than someone who’d built a successful business from the ground up?
Meanwhile Monica, who’d already interrogated Chloe about her night with Devlin, lazed against the counter, sipping herbal tea and going on in detail about the bar brawl between Rocky and Tasha. “I’m telling you it was like something out of a movie. They did some damage to the Shack and each other.”
“I can’t believe Luke didn’t break it up.”
“He tried. Sam intervened.” She snickered. “Guess he wanted Rocky to get her swings in. Apparently, Tasha’s been torturing Rocky in some way or another since high school. Anyway, needless to say, those two aren’t talking just now. Should make for an interesting meeting Thursday.”
“You think Tasha will still come?” Chloe asked as she stirred crushed garlic into the caramelized onions. “I mean she’s been stripped of her crown, so to speak. Won’t her pride keep her away?”
“You’d think. But she’s still the liaison between the club and that editor dude and she still wants to push the book through. I think it’s all tied into some pathetic need to be famous in some way or to achieve something on a grand scale. Something that will have her rubbing elbows with the elite. You know, publishing execs, newspaper reporters, TV talk show hosts.”
“Everyone’s entitled to a dream,” Chloe said, almost sympathizing with the woman.
“Absolutely. Don’t get me wrong, the rest of us aren’t immune to the prospect of a little excitement, but not at the risk of stepping on any member’s toes or over any bodies in our quest to land the contract.”
“If the book catches on and sells well,” Chloe said, “it could generate considerable income for the designated charity.”
“Which is in keeping with our core mission.”
Chloe checked on the roasting chicken, then returned to the stovetop, adding vinegar and salt and pepper into the onion/garlic mix. Next, chopped sundried tomatoes.
Monica moved in beside her, pushed her glasses up her nose. “Are you sure I can’t help?”
“I appreciate it, but I sort of want to impress Dad on my own.”
She breathed deep, smiled. “Oh, he’ll be impressed. How long’s he staying in town?”
“Just a couple of days, I think.” Two days to make up for three lost years. Two days to convince him that her future was here in Sugar Creek.
“Surprised he’s not staying here with you. I mean Daisy won’t be home until Thursday and there are so many bedrooms.”
“Yeah, but it’s the private home of someone he doesn’t know. He wasn’t comfortable, so I didn’t press.”
“So instead he’s staying at the Red Clover.”
Chloe smiled. “Luke’s idea. I’m glad. Rocky could use the money. Plus, maybe he’ll get a glimpse of Devlin through his sister’s eyes. See that he’s really a good guy.”
“You realize you’re the only one around here who refers to Dev by his full name.”
Chloe blinked. “I am?” She hadn’t noticed.
“It’s kind of cute. Although I can’t imagine calling Leo Leonard.” She shook her head. “Nope. Total turnoff. Anyhow”—she gestured to Chloe’s work—“remind me what’s on the menu?”
“Baby Spinach Salad with Vidalia Onions, Sundried Tomatoes, and Goat Cheese, to start. Crunchy Roasted Lemon Chicken as the main dish. Wild Rice with Mushrooms, and Brussels Sprouts with Bacon, as the sides. And for dessert—Double Dark Chocolate Cupcakes.”
Monica released a dreamy sigh. “Heaven.”
“I’d ask you to stay, but—”
“I know.” She glanced at her watch. “He’ll be here soon. I should get going, but—”
“What?”
“You gave me the rundown about everything that happened with Dev yesterday and this morning.”
“Mostly.” She grinned as she divided baby spinach into two bowls. She’d glossed over the sex details, but they were crystal clear in her mind.
Monica nudged Chloe and grunted. “I’m not talking about that part. I’m curious about … Did Devlin say anything about his first marriage?”
Chloe’
s smile faltered. “No.” The only reason Monica knew there had been a marriage was because Rocky had slipped. “I don’t know any more than you do.”
“Hmm. Well, I’m sure he’ll get around to it. I wonder—”
The doorbell rang.
“Crap,” Chloe said. “Dad’s a little early.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll let him in, show him into the living room, and then I’ll be on my way. Remember the keys to Leo’s loaner are here on the counter. All gassed up. You’re good to go.”
“Tell Leo I really appreciate it,” she said while Monica kissed her cheek, “and thank you for listening.”
“Dev’s a great guy, Chloe. And it means you’ll be staying on in Sugar Creek. I couldn’t be happier. Well, except if I were preggo.”
“How’s that going?”
“Still working on it.” Monica winked before slipping out. “Everyone’s entitled to a dream, right?”
Her own dreams burning bright, Chloe lowered the oven’s temperature. She checked the rice and Brussels sprouts and dressed the salad. Her heart swelled with pride. As varied as her interests were, she didn’t excel at a lot of things, but damn, she shined in the kitchen.
If she did say so herself.
She looked forward to cooking a meal like this for Devlin, looked forward to the next big Sunday dinner. Her racing brain touched on some of the specialties she’d thought of for her Moose Café or whatever the heck she ended up calling it. Just as she was contemplating how to approach the venture with her dad, he poked his head into the kitchen.
He looked slightly refreshed—different shirt, different tie. “Smells great.”
“I hope you’re hungry.”
“Starving.” He moved closer, glanced into the steaming pots. “Brussels Sprouts with Bacon.” He smiled. “One of your mom’s specialties.”
Tears burned Chloe’s eyes as he loosened his tie, just like he used to do when he came home from work and found her mom cooking in the kitchen. “I know.”
* * *
“Dammit.” Devlin stared at his computer screen, torn between anger and shock. “Unbelievable.”
After leaving the hospital, he’d dropped Chloe at Daisy’s, then returned to J.T.’s. He’d spent two hours catching up on the previous day’s business. Another half hour listening to the irrational complaints of a disgruntled customer. Another freaking half hour sorting out an accounting glitch. Then Mitzi Hall, in all her overglammed glory, had paraded into his office and complained about another male employee taunting her with lewd remarks. Given her past behavior, Devlin suspected she actually enjoyed the attention, if it was even true, but to be fair he’d had to call the poor accused guy into his office. The man had been clueless and Devlin had ended up having a second discussion with Mitzi—stretching his patience and diplomatic skills.
Finally, after four hours on the property, very late in his normal day, he’d opened his stock portfolio. He’d been watching so closely, had estimated and anticipated when to sell. But these days, more than ever, the market was unpredictable, and he’d been out of it for a good day and a half. It didn’t take long to lose a bundle. He hadn’t lost a fortune by any means, not factoring in his savings and various investments. But he had lost the cash he’d earmarked for the employee incentive bonuses. If he’d been paying closer attention like he usually did, he would have seen the signs, would’ve gotten that itch. He would’ve cashed out before taking a huge hit. Now … Christ.
He couldn’t dip into his other accounts to fund the bonuses. He’d promised to help Rocky, for one. He also had Luke and the Sugar Shack to consider, not to mention his own personal ventures. “Fuck.”
He glanced at his watch. If things had gone according to plan, Chloe was in the midst of entertaining her dad. Devlin had promised to stop by later in the evening, after her dad had left. The notion still appealed, but Devlin knew he’d be lousy company unless he reorganized his agenda for the employee meeting, which Chris had rescheduled for Friday. Even with this latest development, Devlin felt confident about boosting morale and fostering loyalty by introducing the new health-care options. Since no one knew about the incentive plan, not even his dad, it wasn’t like Devlin was taking anything away. The only disappointed party was himself. And he had no one to blame but himself.
He refused to dwell on the amount of money he’d lost. Instead he focused on how to make it back. It would take some time and imagination, but he’d do it.
Stretching his body and clearing his mind, he nabbed a bottled water from his office fridge and drank deeply. As a thought occurred, the part of him that was fascinated by investments and securities overshadowed the part overseeing daily operations at J.T.’s. At some point, he hoped to launch his own financial-planning firm. Something small and specialized. The rush of strategic financial planning was only exceeded by the satisfaction of seeing a client reach his financial goals. If it weren’t for having to commit so much time to the store …
Tensing again, Devlin shook off the thought and, after pulling up the site for the New York Stock Exchange, settled back in his chair. Before losing himself in the market, he opened his bottom drawer and took out the file he’d prepared for the employee meeting.
At the same time his eyes landed on the smaller file Jayce had hand-delivered to him a week ago today. The in-depth background report on Chloe. He grimaced, thinking how hurt she’d be if she ever learned about this file, remembering how he’d been so quick to assume the worst. A manipulator, a gold digger. Someone who’d come to Sugar Creek and wormed her way into his family’s life for ulterior, selfish reasons.
He opened the folder, intending to shred the contents. Instead, he read. Some sort of morbid fascination with her colorful, chaotic past. Two pages in, he came across the pictures. He hadn’t seen them before, hadn’t opened this file since Jayce had given it to him, listening to the man’s verbal report instead.
One of the photos was a professional headshot, something Devlin assumed she’d used when she’d been training as an actress, working as a model. Chloe, a little younger and blond. Striking. Another was a full-body shot, bathing suit, bikini—also professional. Also striking. Sexy. No wonder Jayce had raved about her kick-ass curves.
A surge of jealousy warped his thoughts. How many other men had drooled over this photo? What other kind of modeling had she done? He thought about her reckless abandon and history of poor judgment. The way she attracted trouble.
Then came a candid photo of her with another man, an older man. Ryan Levine or someone else? She had her arms around his neck, her head on his shoulder, and she was smiling. Friends? Lovers? Why did he care? Everyone had a sexual history. He had a history. She hadn’t given him a hard time about Tasha. Why was he so bothered by the thought of her with someone else?
Because it conjured memories of Janna—the only other woman he’d loved. Because it pressed hot buttons and clanged warning bells. Chloe had the power to crush his heart.
“Christ.”
He shoved the photos and report back into the folder and tried blotting it all from his mind. None of it mattered. That was then; this was now. Not to mention, nothing in that file, aside from the shoplifting charge, was scandalous. Chloe had an artistic nature, and artistic people marched to the beat of a unique drummer. So far removed from his ordinary world. Not bad. Just different.
Feeling like a stodgy jerk, Devlin turned his thoughts to the stock market. Something he understood.
Before he knew it, he’d lost himself in the financial world. When he next thought to check the time it was two hours later. “Damn.” He dialed his grandma’s landline.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Chloe.”
“I was beginning to wonder about you,” she said. “Everything okay?”
“Been troubleshooting some issues at work. How was dinner with your dad?”
She sighed. “It was … amazing. Not perfect, but really nice. He was impressed by my cooking.”
“Who wouldn’t be?”
“Are you hungry? Should I have something waiting? No trouble,” she said with a smile in her voice. “Plenty of leftovers.”
Her sweet voice flowed through his blood, igniting visions of their first meeting in Oslow’s. He couldn’t help wondering how things would’ve developed between them if he’d never asked Jayce to dig into her past. In wanting to protect his family, he’d compromised his own peace of mind. That damned report tainted his relationship with Chloe on several levels. He couldn’t decide whether to bury or address it. He realized suddenly that he needed to think things through, reassess his personal life with the same logic and calm as he’d employed with the glitch in his financial plan.
“Sounds great, but … I need to work late, Chloe.”
“Is that your way of saying you won’t be coming over?”
“I wouldn’t be good company.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing I can’t fix. Just need some time.”
“I understand. Must be daunting, juggling as many business interests as you do. Maybe you’ll be able to pare down someday.”
“Maybe.” He wasn’t concerned with paring down as much as shifting his main focus from J.T.’s to his own investment firm, but that depended on his dad.
“Should I pack up some food and drive it over?”
“That’s okay, hon. I’m good. Just need to push through this thing.”
“If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure. Sorry to bail on our plans.”
“Don’t worry about me,” Chloe went on as if sensing his distraction. “I’ve been busy moving some of Daisy’s things into the downstairs guest room.”
So Gram wouldn’t have to worry about the stairs. “I thought we were going to attack that together tomorrow. What about your own ankle?”
“It’s not that bad. Besides, I took it slow. Stop worrying. Remember, I’m a tough cookie.”
With a soft center. Instead of obsessing on that damned report, he’d do better to remember the kindness she’d shown Daisy and the rest of his family since arriving in Sugar Creek. He smiled. “All right, cookie. So you’ll be fine on your own tonight?”
