The Trouble With Love (22 page)

“Shit.” Rattled, he sleeved sweat from his brow. Normally Anna signed off on these things, but she’d called in sick and her assistant, Danny, was running around the kitchen prepping to do the work of two people. When Anna wasn’t available, Luke had been able to rely on Connie or one of his regular patrons to convey specifics. Amazing how creative he’d grown over the years. He almost always found a way to pass off anything involving reading in a way that didn’t betray his dilemma. Mostly under the guise that he couldn’t be bothered. He had other things to do. It was not like he couldn’t read an inventory list or the phone book or e-mails or texts … it just took time. Time to sort out the letters and to make sense of the gibberish his eyes saw. Only today he’d been rushed and Rachel had caught the brunt of his frustration.

He blew out a breath when she rapped softly on the door and peeked back inside. “Pete said,
No problem.
”

“Thanks, Rachel. Sorry I bit your head off. Like I said, bad day.” The glitch with the inventory list and his lead chef’s absence were mere drops in the troubled waters. Rocky and Jayce. Gram and Vince. Dev and Chloe. Sam and Rachel. And what the hell was up with his parents? He would’ve thought that retiring to Florida would have been relaxing, yet whenever they spoke on the phone Luke sensed tension. As did Rocky. He was pretty sure Dev knew something that the rest of them didn’t, although he pretended otherwise. Luke didn’t press because he honestly didn’t want to know if his parents were having marital problems. He wanted to believe they’d work it out. Meanwhile the rest of his love-struck family struggled with their issues right in front of his eyes. Last night’s dinner had been a freakfest of repressed feelings, except for Gram, who’d let it all hang out. Currently free of any romantic entanglements himself, Luke felt compelled to make sure everyone skated through these awkward times unscathed.
A round of happily-ever-afters, please.

“Maybe I should come back tomorrow. For training, I mean.”

“What? Oh, that. I forgot.” He caught a flicker of hurt in her eyes. Were they hazel or brown? He couldn’t tell. She averted her gaze before he got a good look. “Not entirely,” he clarified. “Lost track of the time. Let me show you around, describe the basics, and we’ll take it from there.”

Twenty minutes later and Luke had a deeper understanding of what his cousin saw in meek, mousy Rachel Lacey. She was smart. Whip smart. Kind and patient. Probably part of the reason she was so good with the kids at Sugar Tots. And when she smiled, she was sort of pretty in a bland vanilla way.

“Still interested in the job?” Luke asked.

“I think I can handle it. Do you?”

Was that a hint of sarcasm? He tempered a smile. Maybe not so meek after all. “We’ll see.”

“When do I start?”

“Let’s go into my office and talk about a schedule. Want some coffee or a soda?”

“I’d love a beer.”

Really?
Not that he hadn’t indulged in a drink before noon on occasion, but … “I thought you had to go straight to Sugar Tots.”

“So did I,” she said with a frown. “Gretchen called early this morning and said she’d miscalculated her new budget. Instead of cutting back my hours, she’s cutting me loose.”

“Oh, shit. I mean, sorry.”
Shit
. “Surely she can’t run the day-care center on her own.”

“We,
she,
has a couple of loyal volunteers. Sugar Tots will get by.”

“I didn’t realize things were that bleak for the preschool.”

“Yes, well … It’s complicated.”

Unsure what to say, Luke went with what he knew. “Domestic or imported?”

“Domestic is fine.”

He nabbed two longnecks from the cooler. The way his day was going, he didn’t mind joining her. “Glass?”

“I’m good. Thanks.”

Huh.
He twisted off the cap, handed her the chilled beer, then clinked his bottle to hers. “Welcome to the Sugar Shack.”

“Here’s hoping I last longer than a week.”

As if he’d fire her on the heels of losing her other job.
You’re stuck with her now, Monroe.
In tandem, they took a sip and then moved into his office. Luke sprawled in the chair behind his desk, whereas Rachel sat primly on the edge of the vintage sofa Rocky had picked up dirt cheap on one of her antiquing sprees. With Rachel and Luke alone together in his office, she seemed to fade a bit, turning in to herself. Gaze averted, shoulders hunched, the toes of those clunky suede boots turned inward. As if she was hiding from life. Considering her life as he knew it, he almost understood. He thought about Sam’s impression of the woman. A tortured soul. Damaged and repressed.
What’s your story, honey?

“About my schedule,” she said, fidgeting under Luke’s scrutiny.

“Right.” He swigged more beer, then set aside the bottle and studied the calendar on his desk. “I definitely need coverage on the weekends.”

“Weekends are perfect.”

“Not this weekend,” Luke said. “Not for you. The Spookytown Spectacular runs Friday through Sunday.”

“So?”

“Aren’t you already committed to the Cupcake Lovers booth?”

“They can do without me.”

“But that camera crew … Didn’t you hear? Rocky told me Tasha called this morning. Said the publishing company’s sending some freelance video crew to shoot footage for a documentary.”

“So?”

“Don’t you want to be in the video?”

“No.”

“But you’re a member of the Cupcake Lovers. A contributor to the recipe book.”

“So?”

He was beginning to hate that word. “So don’t you think you should be involved?”

“It’s not about me. It’s about the Cupcake Lovers, the club, and how the club’s baking benefits the community, the military, and various charities.”

“Yeah, but—”

“I don’t mind missing the shoot, Luke. I’ll square my absence with Rocky and she’ll square it with the other members. I’d rather work. I need the money.”

“Okay.” He got that. She’d lost her other job. Her steady income. But hadn’t she saved enough to sustain her for one week? Most young women these days would kill for a sliver of fame. Apparently Highlife was hoping this video would go viral, giving the Cupcake Lovers a leg up on instant popularity. Why was Rachel so adverse to exposure? Not too long ago, she’d bowed out of a group photo shoot. Was she that insecure about her looks? That shy? He understood self-esteem issues, but she was supersmart and kind. Why was she so damned antisocial? Aside from the Cupcake Lovers and Sugar Tots, she kept to herself. Luke was the exact opposite. What was life if you couldn’t share it with others? Lots of others? Not to mention the Shack was known for its cheerful, easygoing, friendly atmosphere. Timid Rachel-stick-up-her-butt-Lacey was all wrong for this job, yet he kept that thought to himself. He’d never been one for turning his back on a person in need, plus he felt compelled to look after her for Sam’s sake. “I’m strapped for help on the night shift.”

“I don’t mind working nights.”

“It’ll put a damper on your social life.”

“I don’t have a social life.”

“Pretty sure Sam would like to change that.” Okay. That came out of the blue and, seriously, it was none of his business, but Luke couldn’t help meddling. Sam was crazy about Rachel, and Rachel …
Well, hell.
In spite of her issues, Luke sensed she’d make a great mom for Ben and Mina. He could see it. What he couldn’t see was her happily, or successfully, waiting tables at the Shack.

She fidgeted on the sofa, fussed with her shapeless dress. “Sam’s a nice guy. A really nice guy.”

Luke raised a brow. “Just not your type?”

“Something like that.”

What the hell
was
her type? Sam was former military. A successful independent furniture maker. A great dad and, like she said, a really nice guy. Good-looking, too, if you asked just about any female in town. And he baked freaking awesome cupcakes! How could she not be attracted to Luke’s cousin? Unless …
Oh, hell.
Was Rachel gay? Not that there was anything wrong with that.
It’s just … Wow. That would explain a lot.
Unless, she wasn’t. Maybe there was no spark because Sam was radiating an
I’m-looking-for-a-mother-for-my-children
vibe or a
Let-me-save-you
vibe rather than an
I’m-looking-to-get-off-with-a-hot-chick, let-me-rock-your-world
vibe. Maybe Rachel was more interested in sex than commitment. One of those shy women who, once in bed, morphed into wildcat. Maybe if Sam were more aggressive …

“So about my schedule,” Rachel prodded.

“Right.” Luke cleared his throat, tapped his finger to the calendar. “How about Tuesday through Saturday? Night shift except on Thursday.”

“Because of the weekly Cupcake Lovers meeting?”

“I may not belong to the club, but I support and believe in the cause.”

“You’re a good man, Luke.”

“Not as good as Sam.”
Way to sound confident, Monroe.
But it had slipped out and he’d meant it. Sam deserved Rachel’s praise, not Luke.

“Tomorrow then.” She stood looking as though she couldn’t escape fast enough. “Thanks for the beer.”

She’d barely touched it. “Sure.” He stood as well, wishing he knew more about her. The more he knew, the more he could help Sam. “About your uniform—”

“I supply the black pants and white shirt. You supply the apron.”

“Right. As for your hair—”

“A ponytail or bun, I assume. As long as it’s off of my face, away from the food.”

“Yeah. And, not that I’m recommending you going for slutty, but a formfitting top might invite bigger tips from the male customers. Smiling is good, too. For both genders.”

“Not to mention good service.”

Well, damn.
“Absolutely.” Luke stuffed his hands in his pockets, rocked back on his heels. “I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

“No, you’re not. But I’ll see you Tuesday anyway.”

Luke blinked as the door shut between them. He’d never felt so inept with a woman in his life.

CHAPTER TWENTY

“Well,
that
was embarrassing.” Rocky buckled herself into Jayce’s car, then pushed back the hood of her rain jacket and slaked water from her face. She didn’t need to look in the visor mirror to know her cheeks burned red. Being irritated with the man when he was doing her a favor by driving her to Pixley to get her license, in a sleet storm no less, was beyond petty, but dammit, he’d rattled her chains big-time.

“Just wanted to meet the guys working on your house.”

“Meeting is one thing; scrutinizing is another.” Rocky glared as Jayce raked wet hair from his obnoxiously gorgeous face. She cursed her fluttering heart.
Sap.
“Surprised you didn’t ask them for character references.”

“Didn’t have to,” he said, tweaking the windshield wipers as he pulled onto the road. “I got their names. The Internet will do the rest.”

“You’re going to poke into their lives?”

“Just peek around the fringes.”

“There’s something smarmy about invading someone’s privacy.”

“Not if it’s for the greater good.”

“So when you did that background check on Chloe … that was for the greater good?”

“It was meant to protect family, so, yeah.”

Chilled from the icy rain, Rocky reached over and cranked the heat a notch, telling herself to let that particular incident drop. Dev had had his reasons for asking Jayce to pry, and Chloe had forgiven them both. Dredging up old dirt was definitely petty. “Sorry. I know some people deserve to have their privacy invaded, especially those with wicked intent, like the cyber bullies you mentioned last night. But snooping into the lives of harmless folk—”

“There are plenty of people who appear innocuous yet, in private or on the sly, commit devious or sinister acts.”

“That’s pretty cynical.”

“Life as I know it.”

She thought back to when he’d pointed out the crime rate in Central Park—rapes, muggings, and murders. “Is that why you left the NYPD? Because of all the ugly stuff you saw?”

His lip twitched. “‘Ugly stuff’ covers a lot of ground, Dash. Saw plenty of ugly as a PI.”

An opportune moment to gain insight on Jayce’s life. The question she’d never asked. At least not directly. “Why did you leave the force, Jayce?”

“Too much out of my control.”

An answer that blindsided. Control was Rocky’s thing, not that she seemed to have much of it anymore. “Can you elaborate?”

He flexed his hands on the wheels and, for a moment, she thought he was going to refuse. Instead, he shrugged. “I hated being restricted by regulations and laws when it came to righting wrongs.”

“If there’s any truth to what’s portrayed in television shows and movies, cops bend the rules all the time.”

“Fine line between bending and breaking.”

“So you threw up your hands and quit the game? Doesn’t sound like you.”

“You mean it doesn’t sound like your romanticized version of me.”

She focused on the windshield, the steady thwacking of the wipers. The slow thudding of her heart. All those years of secretly crushing on the man followed by thirteen years of pushing him away. Did she really know Jayce at all?

“Bottom line, I wasn’t happy on the force, so I moved on. Tried to make a difference in my own way. Which worked okay for a while.” He paused, gaining Rocky’s full attention, then cut her an intense glance. “But then I wanted more.”

Holy smokin’ hell.
The sexual vibes rolling off of the golden Adonis nearly melted Rocky into a puddle of raw desire. She wanted to jump his bones. She wanted to kiss him blind. Lethal moves considering he was navigating an icy mountain road.

Rattled, Rocky redirected the conversation. “Saturday night, when I was driving home from the airfield, Billy Burke pulled me over for a broken taillight. He gave me a ticket, warned me to watch my ass because he was.”

“Son of a bitch.”

“I thought it was just one of his stupid power plays, and maybe it was. I don’t know that it was Billy lurking outside the Red Clover. I don’t know that it was anyone. But my gut says I have nothing to fear from the men working their butts off to resurrect my B and B.”