by Beth Ciotta
“Was?”
“She died two months ago. Heart attack.”
Rocky squeezed his hand.
“I was with her when it happened. She’d cooked me dinner … Christ she was always worried I didn’t eat right even though I did.” He stroked a thumb over Rocky’s knuckles. “She brought up her husband, how they were soul mates, her one-and-only. I thought it was sentimental slop. That’s what I wanted to believe anyway. Except you were always on my mind, in my mind. Mrs. Watson knew about you. The memory of you. Her last words were those of undying love, lost opportunities, and vast possibilities. Tend to your soul, she said.”
Jayce glanced over, locked on to Rocky’s beautiful face. “I moved back to Sugar Creek to reclaim the life I wanted. That includes conquering a monster demon, surrounding myself with the only real family I’ve ever known, and spending my life with you. If anything happened … I don’t want to lose you, Rocky. To anyone or anything.” He felt her shock, her apprehension. He braced for rejection. You’re moving too fast. You’re smothering me.
“Oh, Jayce.” She brushed a kiss over his mouth, then smiled into his eyes. “Let’s go pick up Brewster and go home.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Luke woke up in a shitty mood for the second day in a row.
He called Rachel first thing.
She didn’t answer.
He called Sam’s cell. No answer. He tried the man’s landline. Luke’s cousin, Mina picked up the phone. “Hello?”
“Hey, sweetie. This is Uncle Luke. Where’s your daddy?”
“Upstairs helping Ben pick out his costume for the parade.”
“Oh. Can you run up and tell him I want to talk to him?”
“Sure.” She hung up.
Damn. Luke waited a minute and called back.
“Hello?”
“Mina, sweetie, it’s Uncle Luke. Did you tell your daddy I called?”
“Yup. He says he’s busy.” She hung up again.
Christ. Luke gave up on a phone discussion. He was pretty sure the costume parade started at 10:00 a.m. Once in town, Sam would spend most of the day there with the kids. Saturday was a big family day at the Spookytown Spectacular. Sam would be there as a single dad. Had he dropped in at the Shack last night to invite Rachel along? Luke’s gut clenched with guilt remembering how hurt Sam had looked when he’d walked in on him and Rachel. Chrissakes, Luke had shared a beer with Sam, listening to him gush about Rachel and then encouraging him to continue his pursuit. And then Luke had kissed the woman. Talk about a betrayal.
Cursing a blue streak, Luke stabbed his legs into a pair of jeans and pulled on a long-sleeved tee. He jammed his feet into sneakers, nabbed a flannel jacket, and blew out the door. No time to shower or shave. He wanted to catch Sam before he left the house. He needed to apologize, to make things right, or as good as he could anyway. He couldn’t remember ever screwing up this badly with a family member. He would’ve called Dev for advice but was too damned embarrassed.
Fifteen minutes later, Luke pulled into Sam’s driveway still unsure as to what he was going to say. Should he admit he had feelings for Rachel himself? Or would that only make it worse? Head throbbing, he walked across the manicured lawn marveling that he could feel so confused and depressed on such a clear, sunny day. As he approached the house, the kids bounded outside: Mina, a five-year-old cutie, dressed as a princess. Ben, a serious-minded eight-year-old, dressed as a race-car driver—including helmet and gloves.
Luke stooped to their eye level. “You guys look amazing.”
“Thanks, Uncle Luke,” Ben said.
“We’re gonna be on a float,” Mina said.
“That’s cool,” Luke said. He couldn’t believe how much Mina looked like Paula now. Instead of saying that, he said, “I can’t believe how much you guys have grown.”
“That’s what happens when you don’t see them very often,” Sam said. “Do me a favor, kids. Wait in the truck, will you? And buckle up!” he called when they ran off and disappeared around the hedges.
Feeling like shit, Luke dragged a hand down his unshaven jaw. “I need to talk to you, Sam.”
“Make it quick.”
“I’m sorry.”
Sam stared, that death glare he’d honed in the military.
The silence was excruciating.
Luke shifted, scrambled for an explanation that didn’t come.
“That’s it? Sorry?”
“Really sorry.” Oh, hell. “Just hit me or something, Sam. Get it out of your system. I deserve it.”
“Yeah, you do.” Except Sam just continued to glare. Then he averted his gaze and shook his head, which was almost worse because it suggested he was not only angry with Luke but also ashamed of him.
Just when Luke thought Sam was turning to stalk off, the man swung around and clocked him with a haymaker. Luke went down hard. His vision blurred and his ears rang. He worked his jaw, certain it was busted. It wasn’t. But as Sam walked away, Luke’s heart cracked.
* * *
Chloe was in the kitchen making Spanish omelets when Devlin walked in and kissed her on the back of the neck. She smiled. “Morning, handsome.”
“Morning, beautiful.” He helped himself to a cup of coffee and snatched up the Saturday paper. “I have to say, I’m glad Gram and Connie offered to open Moose-a-lotta this morning. Lazy mornings with you are rare.”
“We’re trying to switch things up so we can each put in time at the Creepy Cupcake booth. Since Daisy insists on wearing that moose costume for the Spectacular, I’d rather her work the booth in the evening when it’s cooler.”
“Always looking out for Gram. Just one of the things I love about you.”
“Vince is looking out for her, too.”
“I know.” Devlin lowered the paper and quirked a brow. “You don’t have to keep reminding me.”
She loaded up two plates and joined Devlin at the table. “Did you hear from Jayce yet today?”
“Called a few minutes ago.” His expression sobered as he set aside the paper. “Nothing new. No more threats. No suspicious incidents.”
“That’s a good thing. Why don’t you look happy?”
“Because whether it’s an actual problem or not, Jayce planted that stalker scenario in my head.”
Chloe toyed with her food. “I have to admit I tossed and turned with the idea last night.”
“I shouldn’t have worried you with it.”
“I’m glad you told me. I can keep my eyes peeled for anything weird while we’re working the booth together.”
“If you see or hear anything suspicious, call me or Jayce. Don’t get involved.”
“Don’t worry.”
“Good luck with that.”
Chloe smiled. “What was I thinking?” Devlin Monroe was the most protective and caring man she’d ever known. God, she loved him. Even when he made her crazy.
“After I drop you at the cupcake booth, I’m going to head over and talk to Luke about Adam.”
“I can’t imagine Adam writing a vengeful note.”
“Neither can I. But like Jayce said, you never know. I’m hoping Luke can put any doubt to rest.” Devlin sipped more coffee, motioning Chloe to keep her seat when someone knocked on the door.
Chloe sipped her milk, hoping to calm her stomach. She hoped Jayce was wrong and Devlin was right and that note had been nothing more than a warped prank.
“Someone to see you,” Devlin said.
Chloe turned just as Monica walked in with a huge bouquet of flowers. “Oh, my God. Those are beautiful.”
“They’re for you,” Monica said with a genuine smile. “And Dev. An official congratulations from Leo and me. We’re so happy for you.”
Chloe’s throat clogged. “Really?”
“I’ll wait in the living room,” Devlin said.
“No, don’t go,” Monica said. She set the vase of flowers near the sink, then leaned back against the counter. “You both know where my head’s been at, and suffic
e it to say I had a bit of a meltdown after Chloe shared your news. Which,” she said, warding off Chloe with a raised hand, “resulted in Leo and me having a long talk. A really long and intense talk. It was good. Better than good. For some reason this time we each were more inclined to really hear what the other person was saying.” She rolled back her shoulders, then smiled. “We decided to take a trip. To go off somewhere for three whole weeks. Just the two of us. To kind of, I don’t know, rediscover us as a couple.”
“Sounds like a great idea,” Devlin said.
Chloe smiled. “Where are you going?”
Monica beamed. “Europe. We’re starting in Paris. Leo said every woman should see Paris at least once.” She laughed. “I think he read that somewhere.”
“I can’t imagine Leo in Paris,” Devlin said.
“Neither can I,” Monica said, “but that’s part of what makes it so romantic. I can’t believe he’d go so far out of his comfort zone for me.”
“I can.” Teary-eyed and heart full, Chloe moved over and hugged her best friend. “I’m so glad things are looking up.”
“I’m already lucky in life,” Monica said. “I’d just forgotten.” She smacked a kiss to Chloe’s forehead. “Leo’s waiting outside. I should run. See you guys later at the Spectacular?”
“Absolutely.”
Monica scooted past Devlin, who was leaning against the doorjamb looking incredibly smug.
“If you say, I told you so,” Chloe said as she admired the gorgeous bouquet, “you can forget about the incredible dessert I planned on making tonight.”
“Just glad the day’s starting on a bright note,” Devlin said, giving her butt a playful swat as he returned to his breakfast.
Chloe smiled while setting the vase in the center of the table. “I’m feeling optimistic about the day as a whole. In the words of Tasha, No bickering or backstabbing. No drama.”
* * *
Rocky went to bed and woke up with Jayce’s voice ringing in her ears. Marry me, Dash.
She hadn’t taken him seriously at the time because he’d been in the midst of an adrenaline rush, but those words, the notion, had spoken to her innermost fantasy. It hadn’t been much more romantic than the first time he’d proposed, but it was what he’d said after—that he’d moved home to reclaim his life and to be with her. That had rocked her world.
She’d been all over him on the ride home, had practically tackled him when they’d walked through the door. The sex had been intense and meaningful, and Rocky had clung to Jayce through the night, silent assurance that she was with him—safe and sound, heart and soul. She wasn’t going off to war. No one was going to nab her. He’d followed his heart, which had led him to Sugar Creek. And her. She’d been right all along. They were meant to be.
This morning they’d swigged OJ, then taken a long run with Brewster. After a sexy shower, Jayce had checked his e-mail and handled some business while Rocky whipped up a batch of French toast. She felt almost as comfortable in his kitchen as she did in her own. Then again, she’d arranged all the cabinets. His house as a whole was coming along—a touch of Rocky inspired by Jayce. Most important, over the last couple of days she’d focused on infusing every room with some sort of cheer—whether by way of a decoration or by doing something silly or sexy or kind. Her plan was to create so many wonderful memories that there’d be no room left for the bad. She’d never considered herself a do-gooder, certainly not someone who acted frilly or fruity just to get a smile out of a guy. But getting to know Jayce, learning what made him tick, had affected her own view on life. To think she’d wallowed in her misfortune to the extent of losing perspective. No matter her business or financial woes, she’d always had the love and support of her family. Was there anything more precious?
“I can’t ever remember being this happy,” Rocky said as they drove toward the Red Clover.
“Then why do you look so miserable?”
“Because I’d rather be watching the costume parade with you and Brewster instead of doing this stupid interview.” Amber had pinned her down last night, suggesting they film her segment at the Red Clover. “I didn’t mind when the crew filmed us baking cupcakes at Moose-a-lotta or working the Creepy Cupcake booth. I just ignored them and did my thing.”
“You’ll be doing your thing this morning, too,” Jayce said while cracking the back window to give Brewster more air. “Talking to someone about the history of Cupcake Lovers and your upcoming charitable efforts. You do it all the time.”
“But not on camera. And not with a professional interviewer who looks like a glammed-up Katie Couric.” Rocky flipped down the visor and inspected her hair. “I’m beginning to rethink my braids. Maybe you should fuss with my hair. Do that tousled half-updo thing.”
Jayce cut her a glance. “Just be yourself and think about the free exposure for the Red Clover.”
She grinned. “There is that. It’s a double whammy when you think about it. I’ll be talking up the Cupcake Lovers and our cause in the comfort and charm of a Victorian B and B. Maybe viewers will be so intrigued, they’ll want to visit.”
“Just be sure to mention the name of the inn.”
“Chloe suggested the same thing. She said that might inspire people to Google the Red Clover. Did I tell you she’s helping me beef up my Web site? She’s really good at marketing stuff.”
“Oh, right. She did a stint in PR when she lived in New York.”
“She dabbled in a lot of creative arts, but you’d know that since you investigated her background. Speaking of…” Rocky shifted in her seat and broached an uncomfortable subject. “You never said, but I assume you looked into Adam’s history.”
“I didn’t learn anything that raised any red flags and I didn’t say because you have a problem with my snooping into people’s lives.”
“That was before I understood how truly relevant snooping is to your work. Plus I think I was grasping for any reason to maintain emotional distance.” Her ancient grudge exploded in her mind. Shame washed over her soul. “I can’t believe how petty I was. If I hadn’t shut you out that morning and all the years after … When I think of the wasted time.”
Jayce reached over and squeezed her hand. “I’d rather think about the years ahead of us.”
Such a perfect thing to say and yet a shiver iced down her spine.
As if sensing her tension, Brewster poked his head over the seat and licked her ear.
Jayce frowned. “Something I said?”
“It’s just…” Rocky stroked her dog’s head, grappled for the right words. “Remember when I mentioned not ever being this happy?”
“And once again you look miserable.”
“I’m happy now. Right now. I’m so stinking happy, somehow it doesn’t feel right.”
“Like you don’t deserve it?”
“Like it’s too good to be true. When I think about the future … Every time I want something badly, Jayce, somehow I screw it up.”
“Do you want me?”
“You know I do.”
“Then you won’t screw it up.”
“How do you know?”
“I won’t let you.”
Her heart pounded against her tight chest. Yeah, boy, she had it bad for Jayce Bello. She had always had it bad. I want, I want, I want … “What scares you most in this world, Jayce?”
“Aside from losing you?”
Rocky’s pulse skipped. Although they’d agreed to take their relationship one day at a time, it was definitely on the fast track.
“Other than that,” Jayce said, “the only thing that scares me is the inability to forgive myself regarding my parents’ deaths. Logically I know…” He blinked, then shook his head. “I didn’t think I’d ever be able to talk about this and I don’t know why I blurted it just now. Damn.”
Stunned, Rocky gaped at Jayce’s somber profile. “What are you talking about? It was an accident.”
“One I could have prevented if I’d stopped my mom from driving off
.” Jayce flexed his fingers on the steering wheel, worked his jaw. “She was drunk, Rocky. Then again, Angie was always drunk. I walked into the house just as she was getting ready to leave to meet Joe at some party. A swingers’ party, I assumed, and made a snide comment. We argued and she lashed out with some razor-mean shit. Nothing I hadn’t heard in some form before, but that night I snapped. Among other things, I wished her dead.”
His stricken expression sliced Rocky’s soul. She struggled for the right thing to say, choosing to stay objective. “You got a community service award that night. So did Dev. I remember being in the gym with my whole family and wondering why your parents weren’t there to cheer you on. I assumed work.” She swallowed around the miserable lump in her throat. “You were a teen, Jayce, and you were hurt and angry. It’s not uncommon at that age to say ugly things to a parent in the heat of the moment.” She reached over and placed a comforting palm on his thigh. “It’s not like you meant it.”
“Regardless, I stood by as she stormed out. It’s not like Angie hadn’t driven under the influence before. What I didn’t take into account was that she’d drink even more at the party. And that my dad would indulge to excess as well.”
Rocky’s heart pounded up into her throat. “There was no mention of your parents being intoxicated in the newspapers, no gossip.”
Jayce cut her a meaningful glance. “That’s because your dad spoke with the acting sheriff and, working together, they suppressed that piece of information.”
Rocky palmed her forehead, mind reeling. “Is that legal?”
Jayce hiked a brow. “Your dad knew I blamed myself. Knew that if the accident was attributed to alcohol it would cast a shadow over my parents, me. Bottom line, he reasoned, it was late, dark, and Joe was speeding on a winding, rain-slick mountain road. He could have lost control even sober.”
Rocky chewed on that. She knew that stretch of road and, oh yes, spinning out while speeding in inclement weather was a definite possibility—even sober. “So all that was suppressed was the toxicology report?”
“It’s ancient history,” Jayce said, “and I could deal with the stink if the news ever came to light. But I worry about your dad’s reputation.”
