Luke stifled a grunt. It was, in truth, pretty damn bad. He couldn’t decide which was worse, the ill-timed tumble itself or the fact that Jayce and Rocky had kept it secret for thirteen years. Big on loyalty and honesty, Dev would see this as a big-ass betrayal. Their parents would be shocked and hurt. Hell, Luke had been shocked and he was royally pissed at Jayce, whom he’d yet to see face-to-face since learning the truth. He couldn’t promise he wouldn’t lose it on the man. Any way you cut it, things were going to get messy. Even so, Luke intended to urge Rocky to come clean with Dev pronto. Clear the air and move the hell on.
“Whatever you do, don’t ride Rocky too hard on this. I’m worried about her. She’s had more than her share of bad luck over the past few years. She puts on a tough front, but she’s only human. I checked up on the Red Clover after I left Moose-a-lotta this morning and … I don’t know, Dev. Do you really think the renovations will save her business?”
Dev shrugged. “In these economic times any small business is a crap shoot. But I do know those renovations will save Rocky’s
home.
Which qualifies the investment. She loves that property and it was falling apart around her ears.”
Luke arched a brow. “Putting sentiment before business? What’s happening to you? Not that I mind.”
“Let’s just say I’ve had a recent lesson in priorities.”
“Spurred by Chloe?”
“In part.”
Luke sensed he’d hit a raw nerve. Sensed a shift in Dev’s mood. Something was troubling him beyond Rocky and Jayce. “Care to expand?”
“I wish I could. I—”
Someone knocked on the door.
Luke frowned. “Yeah?”
A woman peeked in—a veil of limp, blah-blond hair obstructing a good portion of her pale face. “I … Oh. Sorry. I didn’t realize … I was told I’d find you in your office,” she said to Luke. “I didn’t know—”
“I was just leaving, Rachel,” Dev said. “He’s all yours.”
Luke watched as his brother left, feeling as though their conversation had been cut off at a crucial mark. He couldn’t help resenting the intrusion. Rachel Lacey, of all people. What could the meek day-care teacher want?
“So is there a formal application?”
Luke jammed a hand through his hair, his thoughts still with his brother. “Sorry?”
“The sign in the window,” Rachel said in a soft voice. “
Help Wanted.
I’d like to apply.”
A recent lesson in priorities?
Did it have something to do with Dev going head-to-head with their dad over store renovations? Their parents had retired to Florida, but Luke’s brother had been duking it out with their old man long-distance.
Rachel cleared her throat.
Luke shook off his musings and focused on the mousy woman who’d somehow snared his cousin’s affections. “I’m sorry, Rachel. What?”
“There’s a
Help Wanted
sign in your window. I’d like to apply.”
“For a job?”
That
snagged his full attention. “Don’t you work full-time at Sugar Tots?”
“Gretchen cut back on my hours. So is there an application?”
“Not a formal one. Have you waited tables before?”
“No.”
“Ever worked in a restaurant or bar in any capacity?”
“No. But I’m a quick study.”
She was also on the frumpy side. Her hair was clean but lifeless, the drab locks falling forward and masking her expressions. It didn’t help that she looked at her feet or the floor most of the time. From what he could see, she wasn’t wearing a stitch of makeup. Rocky could pull off a totally natural look, but Rocky was gorgeous. Rachel was, well, plain. As for her figure … Did she
have
one? Hard to tell. Her wardrobe seemed to consist solely of what Chloe called peasant dresses. Shapeless dresses that hung below Rachel’s knees or to her ankles. She was also fond of those flat-soled sweater boots. There wasn’t one single sexy thing about Rachel Lacey, and yet Sam had been mooning over her for several months. Luke didn’t get the fascination. But he did pick up on a hint of desperation.
A woman in need.
Shit.
“Okay. Sure. I’ll give you a try. Two-week trial.”
“Seems fair.”
Barely, but he needed to get his act together as far as a reliable staff. Especially with Spookytown Spectacular on the horizon and the upcoming winter season. High tourist season for Sugar Creek, booming business for the Shack. “You supply the uniform basics—black pants, white top. I supply the Sugar Shack apron.”
“When do I start?” she asked the stapler on his desk. At least that’s where her gaze was directed.
“I’d say tonight, but you’ve got a date with Sam.”
“I can break it.”
“No. God, no.” Sam would kill him. What was he saying? The whole of the Cupcake Lovers would kill him. Death by muffin-pan beating. Luke shuddered. “What about a short training session on Monday? A lay of the land. If you’re still interested, we’ll talk scheduling after.”
“I work noon to five at Sugar Tots, but I could do before or after.”
“Will eleven work for you? It won’t take long.”
Rachel nodded. “Anything else I should know? Any paperwork?”
“Nope. We’re good.” He glanced at his watch. “You should get going. Sam made reservations for six thirty. Not much time to run home and doll up.”
She glanced down at her dress, blushed.
Oh, Christ. Was
she dolled up?
Shit.
“Thank you for the opportunity, Luke. I appreciate it.” She pushed out of the chair and tripped over her clunky booted feet in her haste to blow out of the office.
When the door shut, Luke thunked his hand to his forehead. He could see it now. Overturned serving trays and lots of broken dishes. At least he wouldn’t be tempted to do any mattress dancing with his newest employee.
“Buck up, Monroe. Maybe she’ll put Connie’s serving skills to shame.”
In which case, Rachel Lacey would be a blessing in frumpy disguise.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“I owe you, Nash.”
“You don’t owe me anything, Rocky. That’s what family’s for.”
The tornado of emotions swirling inside of Rocky for the last several hours ratcheted to an F3—severe. The mention of family, now that she and Nash had landed on home turf, weakened the dwindling starch in her spine. Nash was just one of several cousins living in the area—although he was definitely one of the closest to her heart. Would he think less of her when he learned about her long-buried secret? She’d snuck out of a friend’s house on the night of her seventeenth birthday, crawled in through Jayce’s bedroom window, slowly stripped, and … Oh, God. She’d
so
been the instigator. Never mind Nash. What would her aunts and uncles think? What about Gram?
Rochelle Leigh Monroe: the Virgin Slut.
Shudder.
Rocky had been so focused on surviving the impending shitstorm with Dev and her parents, she hadn’t thought about the wider family scope.
As if sensing her mounting frustration, Nash gently gripped Rocky’s elbow as he rolled her duffel across the tarmac of Starlight Field. “Just wish you’d share whatever’s eating you,” he said. “Gotta say, flying from New York to Sugar Creek with you fuming in sizzling silence was unnerving.”
“You? Charter pilot of private planes and hot-air balloons? Poker player extraordinaire? Rattled? Didn’t think that possible.”
“Yeah, well, I’m full of surprises.”
“You’re not the only one.” Even though she’d blasted Jayce after he’d shaken her world with his mind-blowing news, the man had covered her hotel bill and left her an envelope at the front desk on his way out. An envelope containing two hundred bucks and a short note.
You can pay me back later.
Even though he’d been pissed, Jayce knew she’d need money for incidentals, including cab fare to the airport. She’d spent as little as possible and planned to pay him back whether he liked it or not first thing tomorrow. Tonight she needed to get her head on straight.
“Maybe I should give you a lift home,” Nash said.
“My Jeep’s right over there.”
“You don’t have a driver’s license. Stolen. Remember?”
How could she forget? “Pretty sure I can manage a fifteen-minute drive without getting pulled over.”
“It’s not just that.” He cast her a worried look. “You’re distracted.”
“I’m fine.”
“Liar.”
“Okay. I’ll
be
fine.” Rocky breathed in the frosty, fresh air, noted the silhouetted mountains and peaceful silence of the remote field. Unfortunately, reconnecting with nature did not mean instant serenity.
Rounding her Jeep, Rocky reached under her front bumper and snagged the little magnetic box that contained an extra key. Her regular car key—along with the keys to her house, sports shed, gym locker, and such—was in her stolen bag, which was probably in the bottom of some New York City Dumpster by now. The list of things she needed to replace was pretty long—
damn that bastard thief.
Hopped up on outrage, Rocky unlocked the doors, and Nash hoisted her bag into the back. Before he could reissue his offer, Rocky kissed her bighearted cousin on his scruffy, chiseled jaw. “Thanks for coming to my rescue, Nash.”
“The kiss-off, huh? All right. I’m done prying. And you’re welcome. Anytime.” Nash quirked one of his infectious smiles as Rocky climbed up behind the wheel. “See you tomorrow at Gram’s.”
Rocky’s stomach churned. Sunday dinner at Daisy Monroe’s. A family tradition. Not that all of the family made every Sunday. Except for Rocky. She rarely missed a date. “Sure thing,” she lied. In truth, she wasn’t sure if she’d be up to face time with whatever family showed. Depended on how she felt by tomorrow. Depended on whether or not Jayce went straight to Dev when he rolled into Sugar Creek. It would be so like Jayce to try to square things with his oldest friend before embarking on this new phase of his life. He’d moved away so he wouldn’t have to “lie” to Dev’s face every day.
Which was exactly what Rocky had done.
Dammit.
“If you want to talk later,” Nash said, reaching through the window and squeezing her hand, “give me a holler.”
Rocky forced a smile and keyed the ignition. “Sure thing.”
Ten minutes later, five minutes from home, Rocky heard the staccato blurt of a siren. She glanced in her rearview mirror and cursed the whirling cherry of a black-and-white. Seriously? The SCPD rarely patrolled these back roads.
Of all the rotten luck!
Irritated, Rocky pulled her Jeep to the side of the road and reached for her bag.
Oh, right. Stolen.
Along with her license. “Damn.”
Someone tapped on her window. Billy Burke. Son of Randall Burke, the freaking town mayor, and therefore, technically, Tasha’s stepson. Which was sort of weird considering Billy was older than Tasha by two years. Whenever Rocky saw those two together, her skin crawled, mostly because of a story Chloe had shared with her. Of all of the cops on the small SCPD payroll, why did it have to be the one cop who was always a bastard to the Monroes? Then again, his hostility made sense considering the Burkes and Monroes had been at odds for decades.
“Evening, Billy,” she said as pleasantly as possible while rolling down the window.
He shined a flashlight in her face, then on the badge pinned to his uniform.
On duty. Right
. “Sorry,
Deputy
Burke. What’s the problem?” She knew for certain she hadn’t been speeding.
“You have a broken taillight.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Want to step out and see for yourself?”
Yeah. She did. But instead, she sat tight. Last month Billy had frisked Chloe after pulling her and Gram over for reckless driving. Gram had beaned him with her purse after he’d touched Chloe inappropriately, and both Gram and Chloe had ended up in jail. He’d never gotten frisky with Rocky, but she didn’t trust that he wouldn’t. It wasn’t about sex with Billy; it was about control. Considering they were out in the middle of nowhere, alone … “I’ll take your word for it.”
He smirked. “Driver’s license and registration please.”
Oh, hell.
More irritated by the moment, Rocky snagged her registration from the pocket of her sun visor and passed it to Billy, who was still shining that damned flashlight in her face. “My license was stolen in New York.”
“Likely story.”
“Call your stepmom and ask,” she gritted out. “Or check with the NYPD. There’ll be a report.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” He pulled a pad and pen from his back pocket. “Broken taillight and driving without a license.”
“Oh, come on. Seriously? It’s not my fault if—”
“Should’ve gotten a lift from a friend,” he said as he continued to write.
She narrowed her eyes on the bastard weasel. “A warning would have been nice.”
“Okay. Don’t think just because you’re a Monroe your shit don’t stink. Watch your ass, Rocky. I am.” He passed her the ticket. “How’s that for a warning?”
Stunned, she gawked as he touched the brim of his hat, told her to “drive safe,” then returned to his patrol car.
Dickhead.
“Welcome home, Rocky.”
* * *
“Pathetic.”
“Excruciating.”
Luke looked to where the Brodys looked. Sam and Rachel, seated at the most romantic booth in the house, drinking and dining in awkward silence. Luke had been trying not to watch as the disaster date unfolded, but it had that train-wreck vibe. Hence, Adam and Kane rubbernecking from their seats at the far end of the bar and Luke stealing peeks in between filling drink orders for Janie and Nell.
“You gotta save him, dude,” Kane said to Luke.
“Sam’s a grown man. Former Marine. He can take care of himself.”
Adam shook his head. “Nope. He’s goin’ down.”
“Hurts to watch.” Kane shifted away and motioned to the tap. “I need another beer.”
Luke complied only to get a frown in return.
“How can you leave your cousin twisting in the wind like that?” Kane asked.
Luke served him the foaming draft. “What do you want me to do? Slip him a cocktail napkin with scribbled suggestions on seduction?”
“Couldn’t hurt.”