by Beth Ciotta
Rocky smiled a little, thinking about how courageous and caring it had been for her dad to go out on a limb like that for Jayce. She wasn’t shocked as much as proud. “Dad can take care of himself.”
“That’s pretty much what Dev said.”
Rocky nodded. Of course Dev had been privy to specifics. At eighteen her brother and Jayce had still been close to inseparable. She blew out a breath. “Okay. So the fact that alcohol could have contributed to the accident is sad, but … it seems to me, given everything you’ve told me about your parents, a similar accident could have happened at any time. Stopping your mom from leaving the house that night might have saved her, them, for one more day, maybe. Maybe not.” She thought about Jayce’s work in law enforcement, his intent regarding his cyber detective agency, his dedication to homeless animals. “You can’t save everyone,” Rocky said while reaching for Jayce’s hand. “Regarding your parents, curse their lifestyle, curse fate, but don’t curse yourself.”
Jayce squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry I unloaded something so heavy just before your interview.”
Her heart ached as she wondered what it would feel like having to live with that kind of guilt, wishing she could wish it away. “I’m all right with it, Jayce. The question is, are you?”
He slowed the car as they neared the Red Clover. “Considering I just spewed my darkest regret to you, I guess I’m getting there. Film crew beat us,” Jayce said, switching gears.
“What?” Rocky looked ahead and saw Highlife’s rented van in front of the Red Clover. Amber was walking around the house, and the two camera guys were shooting footage of the mountain scenery. “Crap. Turn around. I don’t need to do this. Not now. I’ll call Amber and reschedule. Let’s do something fun. Together.” All she could think about was creating some incredible wonderful memory, something to cast sunshine on Jayce’s troubled past.
He smiled then. “I’m okay, Dash. Really. Do the interview.”
She sensed some sort of relief in his being, a new tentative calm. “If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.”
“All right,” she said, trying to perk up for Jayce’s sake. “I just wish they hadn’t shown early. I need time to tidy the downstairs.”
“Brewster and I will give them a tour of the grounds.”
“They’re already touring the grounds,” Rocky noted with a sigh.
“Don’t worry. I’ll buy you some time.”
Her heart swelled. “I appreciate it. At least the contractors started painting the exterior,” she said as he pulled into the gravel drive. “Oh, my God, it looks fantastic!” She’d gotten so used to the faded and cracked façade, the fresh coat of sunshine yellow nearly stole away her breath. “Since they don’t work on weekends, we’ll have to wait until next week to see the finished product, but they’re going to paint the shutters and gables crimson spice. Can you imagine it?”
“I can. Your attention to detail, inside and out, is impressive, Rocky.”
“Hopefully, tourists will agree.” Warmed by his genuine enthusiasm, Rocky unbuckled her seat belt. “I just need to whip some tarps off of the furniture. If you can buy me fifteen minutes—”
“Done.”
Rocky hotfooted it for the inn, then doubled back just as Jayce let Brewster out of the car. She threw herself into Jayce’s strong arms, oblivious of the video crew looking on. “You don’t have to be scared, Jayce,” Rocky said, close to his ear. “I’ve got your back.”
He brushed an achingly sweet kiss over her lips, then stared into her eyes.
She didn’t wait for him to say it first. She knew his heart and she knew hers. “I love you, Jayce.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Luke was in his office nursing a swollen jaw and a guilty conscience when his big brother strolled in.
“What happened to you?” Dev asked, noting the ice pack.
“I screwed up.”
Dev helped himself to a seat. “Want to talk about it?”
“Not really.” After picking himself up from Sam’s lawn, Luke had driven over to Rachel’s rented apartment. He’d dreaded speaking with her, not knowing what to say but knowing he had to address the attraction between them, and Sam’s hurt feelings. When she didn’t answer her door or her phone, Luke panicked and tracked down her landlady.
“She moved out.”
Luke blinked at the woman. “What? When?”
“Sometime in the middle of the night. Left a note under my door.”
“What did it say?”
“Not much. Just an apology for the late notice and that it was time to move home.”
“That’s it?”
“Yup. Aside from including next month’s rent—in cash. Always was a thoughtful girl. Sorry to see her go.”
Luke couldn’t believe his ears. Rachel couldn’t deal with the awkward situation between her and Sam and himself so she skipped town? What the freaking hell? “Where’s home? Where’s Rachel from?”
“I don’t know. She didn’t talk about herself much. Strike that. She never talked about herself.”
“Did she leave a forwarding address? Phone number? Anything?”
The woman shook her head. “Sorry.” Then she pointed to Luke’s face. “You should ice that jaw. Whoever walloped you walloped you good.”
Luke shook off the mystery of Rachel and focused on his brother. “What do you want, Dev?”
“It’s about Adam.”
* * *
She loved him.
Deep down, in his bones, Jayce had believed Rocky loved him. That she’d always loved him to some degree. But when she’d said the words aloud, he’d been dumbstruck. Literally dumbstruck. He should have returned the sentiment. For Christ sake, he loved Rocky so much his soul ached. But the words hadn’t formed. He’d stood there like an idiot thinking, She loves me, and then, smiling, she’d zipped into the Red Clover to speed-clean for the interview.
Christ.
He’d spent the next hour puttering around the grounds. First giving the video crew the grand tour of the grounds, then contemplating the best positioning for motion-detector sensors on the inn. He’d purchased decorative lighting for the front of the house and flood fixtures to cover the immense backyard. Actual installation would have to wait until the fresh paint had dried on key surfaces of the exterior. Since there’d been no further threats, Rocky had once again questioned the need for security lighting, but she hadn’t nixed the idea. All it had taken was Jayce pointing out that low-level security would benefit not only her but also her guests.
The entire time he’d inspected the Red Clover, Jayce had wrestled with conflicting emotions. Part of him breathed easier for sharing that dark night with Rocky. She hadn’t judged him, nor had she smothered him with sympathy. She’d empathized while stating logic. Just like Dev. Just like their dad, Jerome. Except she’d reminded Jayce about the awards ceremony. Somehow he’d lost or buried that memory. He hadn’t expected his parents to attend but had been hurt when neither had shown. Just another in a lifetime of disappointments where Angie and Joe Bello were concerned, but it had hit hard and had no doubt influenced Jayce’s harsh words and shaky judgment that evening. It didn’t excuse him for not wrenching the car keys from his mom and locking her in her bedroom, but somehow it put the night in better perspective.
Although his conscience had lightened in that regard, a feeling of dread dogged his spirit. Renovations would be complete within a week. Which meant Rocky would be moving out of his house and back to the B and B.
He missed her already.
For the past few days they’d lived as a couple. Sleeping and waking together. Bickering over stupid things and debating important issues. Performing mundane chores like washing the dishes and scooping Brewster’s poop. Why the hell did that light up Jayce’s world?
Jayce struggled with the fact that this perfect arrangement was only temporary. Rocky wasn’t the only one having a hard time imagining their future. He’d never ask her to give up her dream of
running a successful bed-and-breakfast, and at the same time he couldn’t imagine himself living at the Red Clover. It wasn’t the inn that put him off. The house and property were amazing. It was the thought of living his life, their life, in front of strangers.
Mrs. Watson, bless her soul, lectured in his head, Stop shooting your happiness in the foot.
Right.
Jayce shoved the uncertainty aside, choosing to believe he and Rocky would reach a compromise. Better to tackle a day at a time than obsess on the future. Bottom line, they were a couple. And she loved him.
“You were right,” Rocky said, bounding out the back door. “It wasn’t so bad. They asked me about the history of the Cupcake Lovers and once I got started they couldn’t shut me up.”
Jayce smiled. “I’m glad it went well.”
Spotting Rocky, Brewster abandoned his tree sniffing and barreled across the yard, practically knocking Rocky off her feet. Laughing, she stooped and hugged the dog tight. “You were right,” she said to Jayce. “Brewster loves the space to run.”
“Lots to explore out here.” Jayce dragged a hand through his hair, experiencing another pang of dread. He was going to miss the dog, too.
“Amber and the guys took off and I need to get into town, too. The Spectacular’s in full swing and I got a text from Tasha that the booth is short staffed.” She dropped her forehead to Brewster’s and sighed. “I called Molly, but she can’t watch Brewster today.”
Jayce crouched next to the pair. “We’ll take him back to my house and crate him. He’ll be fine, Rocky.”
“He’ll be cramped.”
“Dogs look at crates as a safe place. He’ll sleep and I’ll run back and check on him after a couple of hours.” Jayce had business in town, and he wanted to stay close to Rocky. She’d relaxed, thinking Billy or whoever had gotten bored with hounding her, but Jayce had the edgy feeling of the calm before the storm.
“Can’t he stay here?”
“What if he gets anxious and chews up a leg of your furniture or destroys an antique? What if he gets into something harmful? There are paint cans upstairs and—”
“What about the back porch? Renovations are done there. It’s spacious and there’s nothing but an old wicker set that I want to replace anyway. I’ll put out a water bowl and grab his stuffed toy from the backseat of your car. He can sleep on the cushioned settee, watch the birds and squirrels through the screened windows.”
Brewster barked as if casting his vote.
“Four hours in the booth and then we’ll come back for Brewster and do something fun together,” Rocky said. “The three of us.”
Jayce liked the sound of that. He also knew when he was beaten. “You win.” He cupped the back of Rocky’s head, then kissed her forehead. “But if he chews up that wicker set, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“I’ll take my chances.” She sprang to her feet and called for Brewster to follow. “Told you he was a softie,” she said to the mutt in a conspiratorial voice.
Jayce rubbed an ache in his chest and smiled.
Rocky’s cell phone rang and she paused to take the call. “Yes, this is Rocky.… Oh, Miss Day. Yes, thank you for returning my call.” She glanced at Jayce and smiled—Harper Day. The woman who’d purchased the old Rothwell farm.
“Say that again?” Rocky furrowed her brow, stepped left, then right. “I’m so sorry, Miss Day. We seem to have a bad connection.”
Brewster barked, vying for attention.
Rocky moved away, seeking quiet and a better signal.
Jayce led the dog to the back porch not wanting to eavesdrop, but damn, he was curious. He wanted her to land that decorating gig … and he didn’t. What if she got so busy between the Red Clover and her proposed sideline that she had no time for Jayce and the future he wanted for them? He told himself to get a grip. He had no right to dictate her business. He’d never felt so damned possessive of a woman in his life. It pricked an ugly thought. Had he inherited a trait from his father? Obsessed with a woman, would Jayce expect her to live the life of his choosing?
That thought unsettled Jayce as much as the possibility that Rocky was being stalked. Gut knotted, Jayce kept a keen eye on her while he got Brewster settled.
A minute later the woman who loved him came bounding onto the porch. “You’re not going to believe this. Harper—she asked me to call her by her first name—wants to fly me out for an in-person interview!”
“To Los Angeles?”
“She checked out my Web site. Not that it’s great, but it does feature several photos of the interior, giving her a feel for my sense of style—which she liked! I told her how familiar I am with the Rothwell farm and tossed out some thoughts regarding a makeover. She wants to meet with me. See if we hit it off. If we connect, she’d like to speak to me about redecorating another one of her investments. Can you believe this?”
Jayce frowned. “Why can’t she fly in here? Interview you while doing a walk-through on the Rothwell property?”
“She has business obligations.”
“So do you.”
Rocky blinked. “You’re not happy about this.”
“I’m not thrilled about you flying across country to meet with a stranger.”
“Molly met Harper. Said she was kind of prissy and uptight, but pleasant. She’s a highly successful businesswoman, Jayce, not a psychotic killer.”
Irritated by Rocky’s naïveté and snarky tone, Jayce folded his arms over his chest. “How do you know? Did you research her background?”
“Why would I…” Rocky narrowed her eyes. “Don’t you dare poke into Harper’s life.”
“If you’re going to work closely with someone you’ve never met, especially on an isolated property like Rothwell’s, you should know something about them. Their business practices at the very least. It’s common sense.”
“It’s paranoid.” Rocky spun on her heel and paced. “I can’t believe this. You’re the one who pointed out my talent for decorating. You’re the one who got me fired up by giving me your credit card and carte blanche. Do you know what a thrill it’s been for me to transform your house? The shopping and the actual decorating? I’m good at it and I love it. With a little luck and devotion, I could be successful at it.” She threw her arms wide, gesturing to the inn. “I don’t know that all these structural and exterior renovations are going to increase business for the Clover. I’m sick of struggling financially. I’m tired of feeling like a failure. Every other Monroe ever has run a successful business.”
Jayce stared, stunned at the vehemence of her tone, stymied by the glimpse of insecurity. “There are different levels of success, Rocky. You’ve turned this old property into a warm and stunning showcase. That’s a hell of an accomplishment. You contribute volumes of time and energy to the charitable efforts of the Cupcake Lovers. You’ve made a positive difference in the lives of countless soldiers and assorted people and causes in need. That’s huge.” He resisted the urge to reach out. He wanted to pull her into his arms, but experience told him—in her agitated state—he’d only get a sock in the chin. “You don’t have to prove anything to the world. You don’t have to compete with your brothers. And you damn well don’t have to worry about finances. You have me.”
She stopped in her tracks, glared. “So, what? You expect me to not work? To give up my passions? To freeload off of you? Are you nuts?”
“Call me old-fashioned, but is it a crime to want to take care of you? Provide for you?”
“Yes!’ she snapped, fists clenched. “It’s a crime against my independence.”
Brewster whined and circled, sensitive to the heated exchange.
Jayce scrambled not to repeat history. This moment smacked of the same vibe thirteen years ago. Him trying to do the right thing, speaking from his heart, and royally pissing Rocky off. Her cheeks flushed. Her eyes sparked. He knew that look. Damn.
“I love that you moved back to Sugar Creek to slay demons and to win my heart,” she said in a tigh
t voice. “You have my heart, Jayce. But it’s not fair for you to expect me to fall in with whatever fairy-tale version you have of us now. Just like it wasn’t fair for me to expect you to meet my fanciful expectations thirteen years ago.”
“What I’m envisioning isn’t fanciful, Dash.”
“Don’t call me that. Not now. Not when I’m so … angry. Dammit, Jayce, I can’t be the cure-all for your horrible childhood.”
She may as well have whacked him with a baseball bat. He was stunned. Was that what she thought? Was that what he was doing? No. Yes and no. “Rocky—”
“I can’t … I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Not now. Not in the heat of the moment.” She fussed with Brewster’s water dish, fluffed a chaise pillow, then kissed the dog’s head. “The Cupcake Lovers need me,” she said without making eye contact, and then hotfooted it toward his car.
Reeling, Jayce followed. She was right. They both needed to cool down. And he, for one, needed to reassess. Had he put the responsibility for his happiness on her shoulders? The notion shook his recently grounded world.
* * *
Instead of stewing over her fight with Jayce, Rocky devoted her attention to the Creepy Cupcake booth, hoping time and a clear head would provide her with better perspective on their future. The last thing she wanted was to make a hasty decision or say something awful that she couldn’t take back. Although she may have done that already. Her crack about being the cure-all for Jayce’s crappy childhood had been low. But dammit, he’d cast a shadow on her possible shiny new career and that had hurt. Why did she have to choose between him and her version of success? Why couldn’t she have it all?
Not that she was stewing.
Rocky washed down two Tylenol with a swig of apple cider, hoping to ease the pounding in her head. She didn’t know what to do for her heart. She’d been on an emotional roller coaster since the crack of dawn, and the freaking mind-and-gut-jerking ride continued.
Working alongside Tasha for the last three hours had been unusually unsettling. Their relationship, for lack of a better term, had always been strained, but Rocky was used to snippy comments or out-and-out rude remarks, not cold silence. Rocky still smarted over their brief confrontation the day before, and she wasn’t even sure what she’d done to set Tasha off. Given the “no drama” decree and the fact that the video crew was still popping in and out at the booth, Rocky bit her tongue and focused on business. CL business.