Fool for Love (2 page)

Chloe envisioned the devil’s food cake she’d chucked in the garbage less than an hour ago. Thought about the way Ryan had sampled the frosting, the groan of delight just before the weary sigh. Remembered the way he’d raved about her cooking over the last few months, especially the dishes she’d created during her Contemporary Desserts course.

Equating confectionary with heartache, she wondered if she’d ever be able to mix up another dessert without feeling depressed or homicidal. “I’m swearing off sweets,” Chloe said with a sniff. “Forever.”

Monica snorted. “Now that’s just crazy talk.”

TWO

Two days later …
Sugar Creek, Vermont

Devlin Monroe massaged his throbbing temple as his brother relayed troubling news. He shifted the phone to his left ear and scribbled a name on a notepad. “Thanks for the heads-up, Luke.”

“If you would’ve accepted her invitation for breakfast you would’ve heard it from Gram herself.”

“Backed up with work.”

“You’re always backed up with work. You need to get a life, Dev.”

“So you keep telling me.” He signed off with his brother and glanced at his watch. Nine fifteen a.m.

The store had been open to the public for fifteen minutes. Most of the employees had arrived fifteen minutes before that. Devlin, Chief Operating Officer of J. T. Monroe’s Department Store—family owned and operated for six generations—had been on the property since 7:00 a.m. He’d already crammed three hours of work into two, focusing on a short, medium, and long-range report regarding the nineteenth-century retail store’s ability to compete with the Walmart Supercenter opening two towns over, a short thirty-minute drive for anyone in or around Sugar Creek. A concern that had robbed him of a month’s worth of decent sleep. Determined to bring J.T.’s into
this
century, he’d e-mailed the report to the CEO, his dad, who was in Florida enjoying the first year of his semi-retirement. Even though the old man had handed over the reins, he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, get out of the damned driver’s seat.

Just after Devlin had texted his dad about the incoming high-priority document, Luke had called. Now Devlin stared at his phone contemplating who to wage war with first. His dad or his grandma.

Before he could decide, his sister, Rocky, blew into his office—unannounced—and dropped into the seat across from his desk. As always, she was dressed in jeans and layered T-shirts, her thick blond hair woven into two braids. Twenty-nine and still a tomboy. A tomboy with womanly curves and the face of a Hollywood starlet. Thankfully, she scared off a lot of men with her blunt talk and tough attitude; otherwise, given his overprotective nature, his big-brother role would be daunting. “Have you heard the news?” she asked.

“Most people knock.”

“I’m not most people. I’m your sister. Besides, the door wasn’t closed all the way.”

“Ah.”
As if that made all the difference.

“Gram hired a companion.”

“I heard.”

“You don’t look thrilled.”

“I’m not.”

“Why? You’re the one who convinced Gram she needs help.”

“I was hoping she’d rely more on us. Or hire someone local. Someone we know.”

“We’re lucky she hired anyone at all. You know how stubborn she is. Now we don’t have to worry about her starting another kitchen fire or running over another fire hydrant. This woman can cook Gram’s meals—I heard she’s a gourmet chef, by the way—and drive her wherever she needs to go.” Rocky crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “You’re just pissed because Gram excluded you from the interview process.”

“I’m concerned,” Devlin said, leaning forward, “because we don’t know this woman.”

“Her name is Chloe Madison.”

“Luke told me.”

“Did he tell you that she’s an old friend of Monica Smith’s?”

Devlin nodded. “Doesn’t mean she’s trustworthy.”

“I don’t think Monica would hook Gram up with an ax killer.” She frowned. “You need to loosen up, Dev. Seriously. This is good news. For all of us.”

“You drive all the way here just to bust my balls?”

“No. That’s a bonus. Actually, I came to ask a favor.”

“You could’ve called.”

“Too easy for you to say no over the phone. This way I can charm you by smiling and batting my baby blues.” She proceeded to do just that.

In spite of his tense mood, Devlin smiled. “What do you want?”

“Your house.”

“What?”

“For one night. Tomorrow night. It’s my turn to host the meeting for Cupcake Lovers and my oven’s busted.”

“Since when?”

“Since this morning.”

“I’ll buy you a new one.”

“I like my old one. I called a repairman, but it won’t be ready in time. By the way, if I wanted a new cooking range, I’d buy it myself. That’s the trouble with you, Dev. Always taking control. Sometimes people like to make their own decisions, take care of their own problems.”

“Not helping your case here.”

“So can I take over your kitchen and living room for about four hours? I’ll make an extra batch of cupcakes just for you.”

“Toss in a pot of your vegetable beef stew and you’ve got a deal.”

Her mouth quirked. “You know, if you had a wife or even a steady girlfriend, you wouldn’t have to bribe me for the occasional home-cooked meal. Of course that would mean actually getting out and socializing so you could meet someone.”

“I’ve met a lot of someones.”

“Just not the right one. I swear you set yourself up for failure. Take Tasha for instance.”

“Do you want my house for the night or not?”

“Cupcakes and stew it is.” She stood and moved to the door, pausing on the threshold. “We missed you at breakfast.”

Meaning “we miss you, period.”

His family had always been close, and even though he and his sibs and cousins were adults with full lives and careers, they still got together regularly. Except for Devlin. With his multiple business interests and investments he spent more and more time at the computer. Seeing the genuine hurt in his sister’s eyes, he offered a smile and a promise: “I’ll see you at Sunday dinner.” A running tradition at Gram’s house.

Rocky rushed over and offered her pinky.

He crooked his own pinky around hers and squeezed. “Swear.”

Smiling, she kissed him on the cheek, then rushed out, leaving the door open in her wake.

Shaking his head, Dev snagged his cell and, while moving to shut the door, dialed his best friend, a private investigator who’d relocated to Brooklyn, New York.

Jayce answered on the first ring. “Calling to shoot the shit or to raz me about the Jets?”

“Professional call. Need you to dig into someone’s life.”

“Must be serious.”

“Concerns family.”

“On it,” Jayce said. “What’s the name?”

He glanced at his notepad. “Chloe Madison.”

*   *   *

In two days’ time, Chloe had secured a job and lodgings in Sugar Creek, put most of her belongings into storage, and purchased a one-way ticket to Burlington, Vermont. She’d worked fast, refusing to second-guess her decision. The apartment was in Ryan’s name and he’d purchased the majority of the furnishings. She suddenly felt like a kept woman, especially since he’d repeatedly pointed out her spastic work résumé. She needed to get her act together and, as Monica had suggested, take time to heal. Ryan had dinged her sense of security and blown a hole in her self-esteem. Was she really that much of a flake?

When her plane touched down in Burlington, Chloe vowed not to fall apart when she saw her best friend. Besides, Chloe was fairly sure she was all cried out. She’d gone through four boxes of tissues and two rolls of toilet paper in her two-day packing spree. Nope, she wasn’t going to shed one more tear for Ryan-the-Cheating-Bastard Levine. She wanted to make the most of her time with Monica. Unbelievably, even though they frequently e-mailed and talked on the phone, they were lucky if they saw each other in person once every three years. In fact, the last time she’d seen Monica was when Chloe had flown back to their hometown in Indiana for Monica and Leo’s wedding. That was also the last time Chloe had seen her dad.

“Oh, my God,” Monica squealed as Chloe rushed toward her in Baggage Claim. “You’re a brunette!”

“I didn’t have time to keep up with the blond highlights when I was in school, so I went back to my roots, so to speak.” Chloe hugged Monica and held tight. But she didn’t cry.

The taller woman pushed her to arm’s length and eyed her with a sympathetic smile. “You look good. A little thin, but beautiful as always. How the hell did you lose weight in culinary school? Don’t you eat what you cook?”

“You end up tasting and sampling on the run rather than sitting down and lingering over a meal. Plus, between the heat of the kitchen and the anxiety and excitement…” She shrugged. “Watch. I’ll put on twenty pounds in the next month.”

“In these parts that would qualify you for curvy. As someone who could stand to lose an entire dress size, I, for one, appreciate the region’s more generous views on the female form.”

“I think you look wonderful,” Chloe said honestly. Monica had always been on the “curvy” side, but she was tall and big boned and between her pretty face, signature pixie cut, and funky eyeglasses she made a bold, sexy statement while retaining a classy aura.

Wearing a mothering expression that Chloe knew well, her friend reached out and gently tucked Chloe’s loose long hair behind her ears. “How do you feel?”

“Okay.” She forced a smile. “But life will get better.”

“Yes, it will.” Monica squeezed her hand and tugged her toward the baggage carousel. “Come on. Let’s get your luggage and get you to Sugar Creek.”

Twenty minutes later they were loaded up and on their way.

Chloe rolled down the Suburban’s window, enjoying the rush and smell of the cool fall air as Monica sped north on I-89. Instead of stark steel and glass skyscrapers, she was surrounded by lush valleys and wooded mountains. No wonder they called Vermont the Green Mountain State. She couldn’t stop staring at the stunning landscape. Yes, she’d grown up in a small midwestern town, but in comparison this was the wilderness. “Feels like I’m in another country.”

“You almost are. Once we get to Sugar Creek, we’ll only be ten miles south of the Canadian border.”

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

“I can’t believe you only brought one suitcase. Didn’t you agree to a three-month trial period with Daisy?”

“Yeah, but what do I need really aside from clothes and toiletries? I thought about bringing some of my new cooking appliances, but she said she has everything I’ll need. I asked about bringing my own bed linens, but she nixed that as well.”

“What about personal stuff?” Monica asked as she zipped past a slow-moving pickup.

“Like what?”

“Like your laptop, books, camera, CDs … I don’t know.
Stuff
. You’re the one who said you need distractions.”

“Laptop’s in the suitcase. Camera and music are on my smartphone. As for books…” She reached in her purse and fished out her Kindle. “Loaded with over a hundred novels and thirty-six cookbooks. So far.”

“As a library assistant, I’m well aware of the explosion of digital books,” Monica said, “but please tell me you still read the occasional print book; otherwise you’ll break my old-fashioned heart.”

“As an avid reader I indulge in both worlds,” Chloe said with a smile. “Happy now?”

“Delirious. So,” she said, gesturing to the Android and e-Reader, “when did you become a techno geek?”

“I’m not a techno geek,” Chloe said. “Ryan bought me all that stuff. Christmas. Birthdays. I would’ve chucked it all, but I’m sort of used to it now.”

“Yeah, well. Things move at a slower pace in Sugar Creek. I’m not even sure if Daisy has cable.”

“That’s okay. I’ll connect at an Internet café.”

“We don’t have an Internet café.”

Chloe gaped. “You’re kidding!”

Monica smiled. “Nope.”

“But … you said Sugar Creek attracts a lot of tourists.”

“It does.”

“How do they check their e-mail? Google directions and specifics for restaurants and attractions?”

“Chloe, in these parts, most of the people on holiday are too busy hiking, tubing, fishing, snow skiing, horseback riding—”

“I get the picture.”

“—to check e-mail.” She glanced over. “If it makes you feel better, there’s a computer with Internet access at the library.”

“Thank God. So,” she said, still amazed. “No Internet café. I’m guessing no Starbucks?”

“Nope. But they serve great coffee at Gemma’s Bakery.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.” Chloe sighed. “What about a grocery store? I told Mrs. Monroe I’d take care of the shopping. Plus I’m sort of picky about the ingredients for my recipes.”

“Not too picky, I hope. One place to do your food shopping in Sugar Creek. Oslow’s General Store.”

“Seriously? A general store? What, something the size of Marlton’s IGA? ” The family-operated grocery in their hometown.

“Smaller, but better stocked. If you don’t find what you want there, your best bet is the supermarket in Pixley. It’s a thirty-minute drive on a clear day. If it’s snowing, tack an hour or never.”

“I’ll only be here until mid-December.”

“Last year we had our first big snow late October.”

“Oh.” When making her deal with Mrs. Monroe she hadn’t considered the weather. “I haven’t driven in the snow since I moved to Manhattan.”

Monica cut her a look.

“Hello? Big city? Public transportation?”

“When were you last behind the wheel of a car?”

Chloe looked away, knowing Monica was well aware of her arrangement with Mrs. Monroe. “The day before I moved to Manhattan.”

“Fourteen years ago?” Monica jammed on the brakes and squealed to the shoulder of the road. “Get out.” She unbuckled her seat belt and shoved open the driver’s door.

“Why? What are you doing?”

“Trading places with you. If you’re going to chauffeur Daisy you need all the practice you can get. One fender bender and Dev will have my ass. Yours, too.”

“Who’s Dev?” Chloe asked as she scrambled out the door. Heart pounding, she rounded the hood of the Suburban, passing Monica along the way.