The Trouble With Love

by Beth Ciotta

  You can pay me back later.

  Even though he’d been pissed, Jayce knew she’d need money for incidentals, including cab fare to the airport. She’d spent as little as possible and planned to pay him back whether he liked it or not first thing tomorrow. Tonight she needed to get her head on straight.

  “Maybe I should give you a lift home,” Nash said.

  “My Jeep’s right over there.”

  “You don’t have a driver’s license. Stolen. Remember?”

  How could she forget? “Pretty sure I can manage a fifteen-minute drive without getting pulled over.”

  “It’s not just that.” He cast her a worried look. “You’re distracted.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Liar.”

  “Okay. I’ll be fine.” Rocky breathed in the frosty, fresh air, noted the silhouetted mountains and peaceful silence of the remote field. Unfortunately, reconnecting with nature did not mean instant serenity.

  Rounding her Jeep, Rocky reached under her front bumper and snagged the little magnetic box that contained an extra key. Her regular car key—along with the keys to her house, sports shed, gym locker, and such—was in her stolen bag, which was probably in the bottom of some New York City Dumpster by now. The list of things she needed to replace was pretty long—damn that bastard thief.

  Hopped up on outrage, Rocky unlocked the doors, and Nash hoisted her bag into the back. Before he could reissue his offer, Rocky kissed her bighearted cousin on his scruffy, chiseled jaw. “Thanks for coming to my rescue, Nash.”

  “The kiss-off, huh? All right. I’m done prying. And you’re welcome. Anytime.” Nash quirked one of his infectious smiles as Rocky climbed up behind the wheel. “See you tomorrow at Gram’s.”

  Rocky’s stomach churned. Sunday dinner at Daisy Monroe’s. A family tradition. Not that all of the family made every Sunday. Except for Rocky. She rarely missed a date. “Sure thing,” she lied. In truth, she wasn’t sure if she’d be up to face time with whatever family showed. Depended on how she felt by tomorrow. Depended on whether or not Jayce went straight to Dev when he rolled into Sugar Creek. It would be so like Jayce to try to square things with his oldest friend before embarking on this new phase of his life. He’d moved away so he wouldn’t have to “lie” to Dev’s face every day.

  Which was exactly what Rocky had done.

  Dammit.

  “If you want to talk later,” Nash said, reaching through the window and squeezing her hand, “give me a holler.”

  Rocky forced a smile and keyed the ignition. “Sure thing.”

  Ten minutes later, five minutes from home, Rocky heard the staccato blurt of a siren. She glanced in her rearview mirror and cursed the whirling cherry of a black-and-white. Seriously? The SCPD rarely patrolled these back roads. Of all the rotten luck!

  Irritated, Rocky pulled her Jeep to the side of the road and reached for her bag. Oh, right. Stolen. Along with her license. “Damn.”

  Someone tapped on her window. Billy Burke. Son of Randall Burke, the freaking town mayor, and therefore, technically, Tasha’s stepson. Which was sort of weird considering Billy was older than Tasha by two years. Whenever Rocky saw those two together, her skin crawled, mostly because of a story Chloe had shared with her. Of all of the cops on the small SCPD payroll, why did it have to be the one cop who was always a bastard to the Monroes? Then again, his hostility made sense considering the Burkes and Monroes had been at odds for decades.

  “Evening, Billy,” she said as pleasantly as possible while rolling down the window.

  He shined a flashlight in her face, then on the badge pinned to his uniform.

  On duty. Right. “Sorry, Deputy Burke. What’s the problem?” She knew for certain she hadn’t been speeding.

  “You have a broken taillight.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Want to step out and see for yourself?”

  Yeah. She did. But instead, she sat tight. Last month Billy had frisked Chloe after pulling her and Gram over for reckless driving. Gram had beaned him with her purse after he’d touched Chloe inappropriately, and both Gram and Chloe had ended up in jail. He’d never gotten frisky with Rocky, but she didn’t trust that he wouldn’t. It wasn’t about sex with Billy; it was about control. Considering they were out in the middle of nowhere, alone … “I’ll take your word for it.”

  He smirked. “Driver’s license and registration please.”

  Oh, hell. More irritated by the moment, Rocky snagged her registration from the pocket of her sun visor and passed it to Billy, who was still shining that damned flashlight in her face. “My license was stolen in New York.”

  “Likely story.”

  “Call your stepmom and ask,” she gritted out. “Or check with the NYPD. There’ll be a report.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.” He pulled a pad and pen from his back pocket. “Broken taillight and driving without a license.”

  “Oh, come on. Seriously? It’s not my fault if—”

  “Should’ve gotten a lift from a friend,” he said as he continued to write.

  She narrowed her eyes on the bastard weasel. “A warning would have been nice.”

  “Okay. Don’t think just because you’re a Monroe your shit don’t stink. Watch your ass, Rocky. I am.” He passed her the ticket. “How’s that for a warning?”

  Stunned, she gawked as he touched the brim of his hat, told her to “drive safe,” then returned to his patrol car. Dickhead. “Welcome home, Rocky.”

  * * *

  “Pathetic.”

  “Excruciating.”

  Luke looked to where the Brodys looked. Sam and Rachel, seated at the most romantic booth in the house, drinking and dining in awkward silence. Luke had been trying not to watch as the disaster date unfolded, but it had that train-wreck vibe. Hence, Adam and Kane rubbernecking from their seats at the far end of the bar and Luke stealing peeks in between filling drink orders for Janie and Nell.

  “You gotta save him, dude,” Kane said to Luke.

  “Sam’s a grown man. Former Marine. He can take care of himself.”

  Adam shook his head. “Nope. He’s goin’ down.”

  “Hurts to watch.” Kane shifted away and motioned to the tap. “I need another beer.”

  Luke complied only to get a frown in return.

  “How can you leave your cousin twisting in the wind like that?” Kane asked.

  Luke served him the foaming draft. “What do you want me to do? Slip him a cocktail napkin with scribbled suggestions on seduction?”

  “Couldn’t hurt.”

  “I feel for Sam,” Adam said. “Women are tough.”

  Luke was pretty sure Adam was thinking about Rocky. She’d messed with his head big-time. So much for the uncomplicated friends-with-benefits package. Thinking about his own relationships, or lack thereof, Luke was beginning to rethink his own dating style. “I don’t know what Sam sees in Rachel anyway.”

  “She’s sweet,” Adam said.

  “In a shy, insecure way,” Luke said. Qualities that had never raised his flagpole.

  “She’s good with kids,” Kane offered. “Must be tough on Sam, raising Ben and Mina on his own. He can’t dick around with just any woman. She’s gotta be mom material.”

  “I get that,” Luke said. “I want my young cousins to have a kind stepmother. God knows they’re missing out on a mother’s love and influence. And sure, yeah, I guess Rachel would be good with them. But she has to be a good fit for Sam, too.”

  “In bed you mean,” Kane said.

  “He may be nearing forty, but he’s not dead. He’s got needs. I assume. Then again, he’s been celibate for a couple of years now.” Luke uncorked a bottle of Merlot. “Can’t imagine.”

  “That’s because you haven’t loved a woman the way Sam loved Paula,” Adam said.

  “I’ve loved plenty of women.”

  “Not like that.”

  Luke didn’t argue, but as he poured two glasses of wine he did take stoc
k of Adam’s body language. Did Adam feel the same kind of love for Rocky that Sam had felt for his wife? Luke hadn’t considered the true-love angle. He wasn’t privy to Adam’s feelings for Rocky. Hell, Adam wasn’t even aware Luke knew about the secret affair. Rocky had told Luke in confidence and, truth told, Luke didn’t give the secret affair a hell of a lot of thought. If he dwelled on the fact that his high-school bud had been having no-strings-attached hot and wild sex with his sister, he’d have a hard time getting past it. If, on the other hand, Adam and Rocky were to explore a serious relationship, Luke would be all for it. Adam was a great guy. Top-notch brother-in-law material. Luke wasn’t sure he could say the same for Jayce.

  “They’re leaving.”

  “Show’s over.”

  “Sam’s not getting any tonight.”

  Luke felt coldcocked by the Brodys’ exchange. He’d been at the other end of the bar filling Nell’s order, settling up a tab, and lost in his own thoughts. How much time had passed? Five minutes? Seven? Sam and Rachel were leaving? “Did they even have dessert?”

  “Shortest date in history,” said Kane.

  Adam shook his head, guzzled beer. “I feel for Sam.”

  So did Luke. Damn. He thought about what a good soul Sam was. All he’d done in his life and all he’d done for Luke. He thought about how much Sam had loved Paula and how he’d mourned her death. He thought about his young cousins, Mina and Ben. Rachel would be good with them. “I should’ve helped.”

  “No shit, Sherlock,” Kane said.

  “There’s always tomorrow,” Adam said.

  New day. New chance to put his expertise to good use. Luke knew Sam. Rachel—not so much. But Luke knew women, and he knew how to charm them into bed. Tomorrow he’d take his first shot at matchmaking. Why not? Just because Luke’s, Adam’s, and Rocky’s love lives were in a depressing black hole, no reason Sam couldn’t strike romantic gold.

  Smiling, Luke topped off the Brodys’ mugs and poured himself a beer. “To second chances.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Crappy life circumstances, including that damned run-in with Billy Burke, had caused Rocky a restless night’s sleep. Mostly she’d stared into the dark, dreading a phone call from Dev.

  Just had a visit from Jayce …

  Jayce just called.…

  What the hell were you thinking?…

  That call never came. Not in the middle of night and not at the crack of dawn. It would, though. Jayce was primed to spill. Every time Rocky thought about their blowout, her pulse spiked.

  A headache and a bad attitude threatened to ruin her day, so she’d kicked off her morning, as was her routine, with a glass of OJ and a four-mile run along Pikeman’s Trail. Unfortunately, it didn’t rouse the anticipated meditative bliss. Strange given the blissful atmosphere. Yesterday she’d awoken to a cacophony of big-city noise … and the steady beat of Jayce’s heart.

  It had been jolting, unsettling. Exhilarating.

  Today had arrived on a gentle hush. The familiar. The only sound in her room the thwacking whir of the ceiling fan. No beating heart, other than her own. Waking in her own bed should have been comforting, but she’d never felt more restless.

  Or lonely.

  As angry as she was with Jayce, she missed him.

  Even now as she jogged through the woods, something she normally loved, her thoughts turned to walking in Central Park with the charismatic Adonis. She didn’t need to go back there, but she did want to turn back time. No. Capture time. Just that one day and night. The easy conversation, jovial moods, genuine smiles, and laughs.

  The sizzling sex.

  That day represented the life she’d imagined with Jayce in her wildest dreams.

  How cruel that fate had doled out a slice of that dream only to rip it away. Rocky had tossed and turned all night trying to spin circumstances to her favor. Maybe her family wouldn’t care that Jayce had been her first lover. Maybe they’d shrug at the jailbait issue. Maybe they’d brush off thirteen years of lies.

  Maybe the sun would rise in the west.

  No matter how hard she tried, Rocky couldn’t think beyond the lie. She couldn’t accept that maybe, just maybe, she and Jayce had a solid chance at a normal relationship. A loving relationship that would lead to marriage and babies. Not that she wanted marriage and babies right now. She was too busy trying to resurrect her dream, her other dream—the Red Clover. She was too busy trying to make sure Tasha didn’t sully the reputation of the Cupcake Lovers and that the efforts of the club didn’t suffer as they pursued the recipe/memoir book.

  Rocky stopped in her tracks and braced her hands on her knees as she fought to catch her breath. She rubbed her aching chest. Overwhelmed. She was drowning in a flood of responsibilities and expectations. Chaos. She needed to take control. Control was the key to contentment.

  Sunbeams cut through the thick foliage, taking the edge off of the frosty morning air. A bird chirped, and the nearby creek, honest to God, babbled. The tension in Rocky’s shoulder’s eased; her temples ceased to throb. Her mind wasn’t totally clear, but she had at least one constructive thought.

  Control.

  Basking in a chilly breeze, the smell of pine, and the sounds of nature, Rocky turned her face to the sun and considered her options. Five seconds later, Jayce’s voice rang in her ears.

  This is what’s been festering inside you all these years?

  Her stomach churned with doubt.

  Had she overreacted to his proposal? Had she been an insensitive bitch all these years? If she hadn’t been so hostile toward Jayce, Dev wouldn’t have suspected a rift. He wouldn’t have worried over the why. He wouldn’t have coaxed Jayce into staying at the Red Clover three weeks ago in order to mend bridges with Rocky.

  And quite possibly, she wouldn’t be in the position she was in now.

  Screw it.

  Instead of living in dread, wondering when Jayce was going to come clean with Dev, and obsessing on the fallout, she’d take matters into her own hands. Contrary to what Jayce had intimated in New York, she was not an immature chickenshit. Wary, yes. Nervous, yes. But she’d be damned if she’d allow Jayce to call the shots concerning her damned life.

  Hopped up on adrenaline, Rocky plucked her phone from her sport armband and seized the day.

  * * *

  It had taken Dev twenty minutes to get to the Red Clover. That meant twenty minutes to go over her story, pick and choose her words, and practice her tone of voice.

  Twenty minutes to lose her nerve.

  Rocky forced a smile when her brother crossed the threshold bearing a paper bag stamped with the logo from Moose-a-lotta.

  “You promised coffee,” he said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Figured I’d bring Danish. Chloe made them. Apple,” he added.

  Rocky waved Dev inside and led him into the kitchen. Christ, he was as tense as she was. Although you wouldn’t know it to look at him. Dressed in business casual, he affected a confident and calm demeanor. Aside from their dad, Dev had always been the rock of the family.

  “So what did you want to see me about?” he asked, getting to the point as she set out plates and poured them each a cup of banana fudge java. “I assume it’s not about the publishing contract or your stolen purse,” he said as she struggled with her opening line. “Otherwise we could have had this discussion over the phone.”

  Rocky resisted the urge to pace. Instead, she sat across the kitchen table from her older brother. The protector. The stand-up guy who always did the right thing. “I need to talk to you about Jayce.”

  “Okay.”

  “I need you to listen and not interrupt. Just … let me get it out.”

  He nodded, then placed a gooey Danish on her plate.

  “It’s about the rift.” His gaze flicked to hers, and she felt the force of his curiosity and concern mixed with relief. As if he was thinking, Finally. Rocky broke his gaze, stared at her pastry. “Jayce and I … He was my first.”

  Silen
ce.

  “Lover,” she added, risking Dev’s gaze.

  Dev raised a brow.

  Rocky wanted to die. “It was all my doing. Well, not all. I mean it takes two. Obviously. But I started it and made it pretty damned hard for him to refuse. I mean he’s a guy after all and I was naked—”

  Dev cut her off with a raised hand. “When was this exactly?”

  She flushed. “The night of my seventeenth birthday.” She saw Dev do the math, saw his jaw clench in anger. “For what it’s worth,” she rushed on, “Jayce proposed marriage the morning after. Sort of. Said we should get married. So he tried to do the right thing, I guess, only it felt all wrong. Who wants to marry a man out of old-fashioned duty? Not me. I told him to piss off.”

  Dev stared.

  “Harsh, I guess.”

  “You think?”

  Rocky’s temper flared. “I loved him. Heart and soul. Blinding passion. Jayce offered to marry me out of guilt and a sense of obligation. Why doesn’t anyone, aside from me, see the insult?”

  Dev dragged a hand down his face.

  “He crushed my heart and I put up a wall. A huge wall of seething resentment. I didn’t think he’d actually move away, but I was glad when he did. It made things easier. Sort of. He wanted to tell you a long time ago, but I urged him not to. What was the point? I knew you’d be angry and I didn’t want you to think less of me or Jayce. I certainly didn’t want to jeopardize your friendship.” Rocky’s throat clogged; her eyes teared. “I’m sorry we weren’t honest with you, Dev. I just … I couldn’t see past my mangled illusions.”

  Her brother sat stock-still, his expression enigmatic. What was he thinking? What was he feeling? She couldn’t take the suspense. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”

  “I’m trying to figure out when and how I failed you.”

  “What?” Rocky furrowed her brow. “You think my seducing Jayce was somehow your fault?”

  He barked a humorless laugh. “God, no.” He pushed out of the chair, braced his hands on the wall, and dropped his head. In frustration? Denial? Fury?