Fool for Love

by Beth Ciotta

  She should have felt good about that, but instead her ego took a hit. Didn’t he have any tender feelings for her at all? Not that she wanted him to. “I just think it could complicate matters.”

  He moved in then. Close enough that she could smell the combination of sweat and shampoo. Close enough that she could see every wrinkle in his Sling Blade snowboarding T-shirt. Close enough to admire his imperfect nose and the scar just above his upper lip. He grasped her shoulders and squeezed, the affectionate, supportive touch of a friend and lover.

  “I’m not asking you to marry me, Rocky. I’m not even asking to move in. I’m hoping for what we have and … more. If it isn’t working, we’ll make adjustments. If it’s a disaster, we’ll call it quits.”

  “As fuck buddies?”

  “Or business partners.”

  The perfect arrangement. Maybe. All she knew was that for the first time in months, she didn’t feel like a total stress ball. Giving him a half smile, she turned and sprinted toward the Red Clover. “You better have some damned spectacular ideas, Brody.”

  He caught up with her in a heartbeat. “Brace yourself, Monroe.”

  “Last one back to the house makes breakfast.”

  “I can already taste your blueberry pancakes,” he said with an ornery grin, then commenced to kick her ass.

  SIXTEEN

  Devlin considered himself a calm, rational man capable of handling any crisis that came his way. Early on he’d developed a talent for taking everything in stride, never panicking, rarely losing his cool. Even when his marriage to Janna had fallen apart, he’d kept it together. But when his dad called, threatening to fly home in order to save the family business, Devlin blew a gasket. “What do you think I’m trying to do?”

  “Between the cost of your proposed renovations and an enhanced employee benefit package, you’re setting us up for financial ruin.”

  “The hell I am.” He’d researched, calculated and projected. “What I’m proposing entails minimal risk.”

  “‘Risk’ being the key word.”

  “Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

  “You’re not playing the stock market, Son. You’re playing with people’s lives. Our family’s future income.”

  “I know that and I know what I’m doing.” Ticked, he pushed away from his desk and paced the office occupied by every senior male Monroe since the 1800s. He’d never aspired to this role, not as his sole purpose in life, but he’d never considered turning his back on the job either. Now that he was in charge … except he wasn’t. “Did you even read my report?”

  “Which one? Over the past two weeks you’ve bombarded me with more paperwork than the health insurance company. You’re both a pain in my ass.”

  Devlin paused in his heated tracks. “Why are you getting hassled by VT Med?”

  “It’s nothing. Some … hitch in the eye-care plan. Point is there’s no need to panic and instill massive changes just because we’re facing a little competition.”

  “Nothing little about a Walmart Supercenter, Dad.”

  “Nothing wrong with staying the course. Slow and steady wins the game.”

  “What if you’re wrong?”

  “What if you’re wrong?” The older man sighed. “I know you have a master’s in business administration and finance. I know you’re a visionary. But if you’re so desperate to overhaul a business, turn your attention to one of your other investments. Or invest in something new. But leave J.T.’s alone.”

  By refusing to discuss his plans or even debate the issues, his dad had reduced him to little more than a puppet. Devlin was no man’s yes-man. “If that’s how you feel, maybe you should come home. Take over as COO as well as CEO.”

  “Don’t be an ass.”

  “Like father, like son.” Devlin hung up before the conversation turned brutal. Yes, they’d argued in the past, but never like this. Jerome Monroe had always been conservative and stubborn, but he’d never been irrational. Lately his behavior, like semi-retiring at fifty-five and moving to Florida in the summer, had been as questionable as Gram’s. What the hell was going on with everyone?

  After a sharp knock, the office door swung open and Devlin’s assistant manager stepped in. “Met with the liaison for VT Med like you asked,” Chris said. “Got the stats on enhanced employee benefit packages.” He placed a bulging folder on the desk. “Even if J.T.’s matches the supercenter’s benefit plan, we still lack the varied opportunities for advancement and/or relocation.”

  “I know. I don’t expect everyone to stay, but I can reward those who do. High employee morale results in a highly effective team and premium customer service and that’s one area we can definitely excel at.” In spite of his dad’s decree, Devlin had made a progressive decision. “Schedule a mandatory employee meeting for next Monday just after closing. Book Gemma’s to cater the event. Pastries. Coffee.”

  “Topic of discussion?”

  “Upcoming changes and perks.”

  “That’ll have them flocking,” Chris said on his way out.

  And buzzing with presumptions and guesses for the next six days. Word would get back to his dad within that time unless Devlin got word to him first. Either way, he’d just betrayed both his parent and boss in one fell swoop. Frowning, he picked up his phone and hit autodial. “Hi, Mom.”

  “Funny you should call, Devlin. I was just getting ready to phone you.”

  “About?”

  “Fighting with your dad.”

  “It’s about to get worse.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I can’t wage this war over e-mails, faxes, and the phone. I need to speak with dad face-to-face. If I can’t book a commercial flight for tomorrow, I’ll have Nash fly me down.”

  “Don’t do that, honey. Please.”

  Her brittle voice put him on edge. “Why?”

  “I’m not supposed … I promised your father…”

  Wary now, Devlin eased into a chair. “What’s going on?”

  “He doesn’t want to see you. He doesn’t want to see anyone in the family. Not right now.”

  “Why?”

  “This goes no further.”

  “For Christ sake, Mom, what is it?”

  “Your dad was diagnosed with prostate cancer.”

  His heart thudded slow and hard. Of all the things she could have said, he hadn’t expected a health crisis. Vacillating between disbelief and shock, he took a steady breath and tried not to think the worst. He’d already lost two family members to various forms of that son-of-a-bitch disease, one of them being his Granddad Jessup, Daisy’s husband, his dad’s dad.

  “Devlin?”

  He reined in his emotions and focused on facts. “What stage?”

  “Stage Two, but he’s winning the battle.”

  “You say that as if he’s been fighting for a while.”

  “Three months.”

  The dull buzz in Devlin’s ears intensified to a roar. “You’ve both known about this for three months?”

  “Hear me out,” she said, hardening her tone. “It’s your father’s body. His choice who he tells and when—if ever. He didn’t want his family and close friends to worry and he didn’t want pity. You know what a proud man he is. He wanted to fight this on his own terms, which entailed radical treatments with a specialist here in Florida. We’ve seen tremendous improvement, but the treatments take their toll. He should be focusing his energy on recovering, fighting the disease, not you.”

  Guilt and anger pummeled his senses. “If I’d known—”

  “You would have dropped everything to help. He needs you … we need you in Sugar Creek, honey, watching over the family and the family’s interests. He’s never had faith in Rocky’s B and B and Luke runs the Sugar Shack with his heart, not his head. The one constant, the only proven security, in the immediate family’s lives is J.T.’s. I know you want to make big changes, but now’s not the time. Wait until your dad’s stronger, until he’s cancer free. When he comes hom
e—clear mind, strong body—I’m sure he’ll be more open to your ideas.”

  Devlin rubbed his throbbing temple. “Semi-retirement was a ruse.”

  “Running the store is in his blood. He’s not ready to throw in the towel, but he did need a break.”

  Several things came together in that moment, recent comments and actions that hadn’t made sense to Devlin before.

  “Trust me when I tell you, he’s beating this thing.”

  “If anyone can, Dad can.” Even though he wasn’t happy that his dad had kept the diagnosis secret, Devlin understood his motivation. Knowing the toll cancer took on a victim’s loved ones, he would’ve made the same decision. “What about you, Mom? How are you holding up?”

  “I’m okay. Better, now that I’ve shared the news with you. Although I have a strong support system down here, it helps to share concerns with family. But as I said, this goes no further. Say nothing to Luke or Rocky or, God forbid, Daisy. Nothing to the cousins or your aunts and uncles. If they hear it from anyone, let it be your dad.”

  “Understood.” Just as his dad wanted to spare them heartache and worry, so did Devlin.

  “And don’t let on to your father that I confided in you. I’ll try to convince him to come clean, with you at least, but until then…”

  “Soul of discretion.” The last thing he wanted to do was add to his mom’s anxiety.

  “I have to go. I’ll call you tomorrow and fill you in on treatment specifics or anything else you want to know.”

  “I appreciate that, Mom, and rest easy. I won’t hassle Dad with additional reports.”

  “Knowing you, I don’t entirely trust your wording. Should I be concerned?”

  “Absolutely not.” He said his good-byes, barred visions of his dad’s physical suffering, and focused on how he could help. Clearly the man was concerned about the future security of his wife and children.

  Turning to his laptop, Devlin keyed in the password to his personal business accounts, his mind churning with calculations and projections. “No worries, you proud bastard.” He couldn’t wish away disease, but he could work magic with finances.

  SEVENTEEN

  The only difference between this morning and every other morning Chloe had spent in Sugar Creek was that she hadn’t gone to the library straightaway. A cable guy had knocked on the door announcing he was there to fill a work order. An order initiated by Devlin. The upgraded service combined cable television, phone service, and high-speed Internet. Since Daisy didn’t own a computer or any wireless devices, Chloe assumed the Internet service was intended for her benefit. She could’ve refused the gesture but didn’t. Now she could check e-mail and research recipes at her convenience without having to worry about leaving Daisy alone for too long. Not that Chloe wanted to be her shadow, but ever since she’d lied and baked behind Chloe’s back, she didn’t trust the woman not to pull a harebrained solo stunt.

  Chloe was especially concerned since Daisy’s secret recipe cupcakes had tasted less than spectacular. Clearly, Daisy had screwed up the ingredients or the measurements. Chloe had studied Daisy’s recipe card, and theoretically the cupcakes should’ve tasted insanely good. In a private moment, Chloe had offered to assist Daisy or to at least observe as she made a second batch. The proud, stubborn woman had refused. Chloe wouldn’t have cared except Daisy had seemed even more distracted and even a little depressed all through Monday.

  This morning in a desperate attempt to rekindle the woman’s confidence, Chloe had begged her assistance. “If I’m going to offer my two cents at Cupcake Lovers, I figure I should invest some time in the art. I’d really love to swing this decoration,” she said, flashing a photo she’d found in a magazine, “but I have no experience with fondant.”

  “I’d love to help you, kitten, but I have a date.”

  On cue, Vincent Redding knocked on the door. “Here to take Daisy on a country drive,” he told Chloe.

  She couldn’t have been more surprised. Or thrilled! Maybe he could charm Daisy out of her funk. More than ever Chloe was certain Oslow’s owner had a crush on her employer. On their way out, Daisy had presented Chloe with “a mission,” after which Chloe had immediately called and enlisted Monica’s help. Even though she and Devlin had struck a truce, she hadn’t seen him since Sunday night and felt awkward about her appointed shopping excursion.

  Pulling into Monica’s drive, Chloe tapped the horn, then checked her makeup in the mirror. Not that she wanted to impress Devlin, but … oh, who was she kidding? Since he’d addressed their attraction, she’d been unable to think of little else.

  The passenger door wrenched open and Monica plopped inside. “Ready when you are.”

  “Thanks for breaking away on such short notice.”

  “A welcome distraction, trust me. I plan on doing major damage to our credit card. It’s not like I’m saving up for a nursery or anything.”

  “Whoa. Whoa.” Chloe shifted back into park and took a good look at her friend. Clearly, she was upset. “What’s wrong?”

  Staring straight ahead, Monica sniffed. “This morning Leo informed me that he wants to stop trying for a baby.”

  “Forever?”

  “For now. Says we’ve been at it for three months and since I haven’t conceived…”

  Heart in throat, Chloe reached over and squeezed her friend’s hand.

  “As if it’s my fault.”

  “I’m sure he didn’t mean it that way. He’s probably just … frustrated.”

  “And I’m not?” She blew out a breath. “Sorry. Not your fault.”

  “It’s not anyone’s fault.” Chloe dug deep for the right words. Instead of getting her friend more worked up, she decided to play it cool. Hopefully, no, definitely this was a temporary glitch. “You know three months isn’t really all that long.”

  Monica cast her a look that said, Put yourself in my shoes, in which case three months probably felt like forever.

  “Sometimes,” Chloe tried again, “when you want something too bad, when you try too hard…”

  “Yeah, yeah. Sometimes the best things happen when you’re not expecting them.” Monica quirked a small smile. “You sound like Leo.”

  “No, I don’t. His voice is much deeper.”

  Monica rolled her eyes. “Okay. Let me see Daisy’s shopping list.”

  Smiling now, Chloe plucked the folded paper from her purse and passed it over.

  Monica scanned the full page of the older woman’s chicken scratch while Chloe backed onto the street. “Must’ve been in a hurry,” she said. “Normally Daisy has beautiful handwriting.” She squinted, then whistled. “Everything from garden supplies to guest towels. Wait. What’s Big Al?”

  Chloe blushed. “Nothing I’ll find at a local department store. Trust me.”

  “Five new Sunday frocks, including handbags and shoes?”

  “She’s determined to overhaul the last of her conservative wardrobe.”

  “No more hats and gloves? No matching shoes and purses? I always thought she looked so regal.”

  “Good-bye, Queen Elizabeth, hello, Lady Gaga.”

  “That’s sort of sad.” Monica shivered. “And scary.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll find a moderate compromise. As it happens, we wear the same size. I can try on everything and match up accessories. Just have to keep in mind I’m standing in for a senior. Hemline appropriate and all that.”

  “Don’t recall ‘personal stylist’ being part of your job description.”

  “It wasn’t, but last night Daisy got me talking about some of my past jobs and I mentioned my brief stint in the fashion world.”

  “Ah, yes. You wanted to be the next Vera Wang.”

  “Until I learned I had no real talent for design. Then I caught the photography bug, but sucked at that, too.”

  “At least you tried,” Monica said. “Lots of people have special interests, but never pursue them. Take me for instance. I’ve always wanted to play the fiddle, but have I ever taken a le
sson? You would have bought the instrument and signed up for personal instruction with a renowned violinist.”

  “Yeah, but if it didn’t come naturally, if it turned out to be more stressful than fun, I would’ve dropped out.”

  “Sounds smart to me. Why invest time and money in something that doesn’t bring you joy or at least satisfaction? My point is, you’ll never have to look back and wish you would have pounced on an opportunity. You pounced plenty and you’re a fascinating person because of it.”

  Chloe smiled. “Stop or I won’t be able to get my head out the door when we stop.”

  “Sure you will. Plenty of room.” She glanced around the car. “This thing’s a freaking boat. How do you even see over the hood? It must stick out twenty feet.”

  Chloe laughed. “Believe it or not, I’m sort of used to it now.” She’d been driving Daisy all over town and then some. They’d been in and out of several artisans’ shops, Oslow’s, the drugstore, the library, the hairdresser’s, Gemma’s Bakery, and the Sugar Shack. The only place they hadn’t been was J.T.’s Department Store. Chloe hadn’t stopped in on her own because she didn’t want Devlin to think she was looking for him or snooping around his business. Even though, admittedly, she was curious about the place that dominated his life.

  Then this morning, Daisy had presented Chloe with “the list,” instructing her to shop exclusively at J.T.’s and to charge everything to her account. Chloe had changed her clothes three times before settling on slim-cut jeans, wedge-heeled boots, a scoop-necked tee, and her vintage leather jacket. She’d fluffed her hair, plumped her lips with gloss, and spritzed on her favorite perfume. All the while reminding herself why it was bad to encourage Devlin’s attention.

  As if reading her mind, Monica shot her a sly grin. “So how are things between you and Dev?”

  “Fine. I guess. I haven’t seen him since Sunday.”

  “From the way you’re sexed up, I guess you’re hoping to see him today.”

  Cheeks hot, Chloe focused on the road. “I’m not sexed up.”

  “It’s okay, you know. Being attracted to the man. He’s single. You’re single.”