The Trouble With Love Read online

  Sugar Creek, Vermont. Population 1,355. A quaint tourist destination for Flatlanders visiting the Green Mountain State in search of stunning scenery, relaxation, or assorted outdoor recreation. Home of Cupcake Lovers, an association with a long and notable history that, in addition to their delicious recipes and the current popularity of cupcakes, had apparently landed the club a book deal.

  “I don’t know why you’re all so stunned,” Tasha said with a haughty tilt of her chin. “I told you we’d get an offer. Brett called me this afternoon with the good news.”

  Brett Pearson, the senior editor she’d been wooing on behalf of the club even though she was no longer president. They’d all agreed Tasha should remain the liaison in this instance, mostly because she’d established contact. Partly because no one else wanted the job. Especially Rocky, who was up to her eyeballs in renovations with the Red Clover.

  Gram frowned. “You’ve been sitting on this news all day?”

  “Don’t get your granny panties in a twist, Daisy. I wanted to tell all of you in person and we were meeting tonight anyway. What’s a few hours?”

  “Don’t get your reconstructed nose out of joint,” Gram fired back. “I’m just saying this is exciting stuff.”

  The front door opened and shut, followed by rushed footsteps. “I apologize for being so late, everyone. It took longer than anticipated for Devlin, Luke, and me to hang the signage and shelves that just came in. You’re going to love it, Daisy! Looks even better than it did in the online catalogue!”

  Rocky grinned at Chloe, who’d blown into the room and sucked the wind right out of Tasha’s sails. The petite woman with an adventurous spirit that matched Gram’s had originally moved into town and this house to work as Gram’s companion, specifically as a chauffeur and cook. Chloe still did those things, temporarily, but she was now also Gram’s business partner. Rocky had known Chloe less than two months but already loved her. She also loved that Dev, her overprotective, sometimes-pain-in-ass brother, loved Chloe. The icing on the cake? Tasha hated the highly motivated and cute-as-hell culinary whiz kid. Partly because Chloe had landed Dev. Mostly because, after living in New York City for fourteen years, Chloe trumped Tasha big-time in life experience and accomplishments.

  Long chestnut hair pulled back in her signature sloppy ponytail, Chloe peeled off her vintage leather jacket and trendy scarf and plopped into a chair next to Judy. “What did I miss?”

  The older woman leaned into her and winked. “Sam asked Rachel out on a date.”

  “We got a book deal,” Monica said.

  “Um … wow. On both counts.”

  “I’m flying to Manhattan tomorrow to seal the deal,” Tasha said, grappling for the limelight.

  Which earned a universal, “What?”

  “We agreed that if this happened,” Sam said, “Dev would be our business advisor. He needs to look over those contracts, Tasha.”

  “You can’t just sign an agreement without us knowing specifics,” Monica said. “We’re all involved.”

  “Settle down, Sweet Peeps. I wasn’t going to sign anything.”

  Chloe blinked. “Did she just call us Sweet Peeps?”

  “You really need to drop that, Tasha,” Rocky said.

  “Why? It’s catchy. If I’m going to promote us on Facebook and Twitter, we need a catchy name.”

  “We have a catchy name,” Helen said. “Cupcake Lovers.”

  Sam shot Tasha one of his death stares. “Don’t ever call me Sweet Peep in public, and that includes online.”

  Tasha huffed. “Whatever. Back to my trip to Manhattan. In one of our conversations Brett had expressed interest in sampling our cupcakes firsthand. He also thought it would be helpful if the publicity department could speak with me in person, to get in touch with the human side of the club.”

  Gram opened her mouth, only Chloe spoke first. “Maybe Rocky should go with you.”

  “What?” Rocky blurted.

  “Why?” Tasha snapped.

  “She is the acting president of Cupcake Lovers, plus she could add some interesting insight.”

  “Plus, she’s human,” Gram said.

  “I agree,” Sam said. “Rocky should be involved in those meetings. As for the cupcake samples—”

  “I spent all afternoon whipping up a batch of my Death By Maple cupcakes,” Tasha said. “Consider Brett and his team smitten at first bite.”

  “No denying that recipe is to-die-for,” Monica said, “but a variety might be nice.” She gestured to the platters on the table. “Plenty of fresh cupcakes here and a broader representation of the club’s talents.”

  “I’ll wrap you up a nice care package,” Ethel said.

  “It’s a plan,” Sam said. “Rocky will join Tasha in New York and together they’ll present a sampling of our cupcakes to Highlife. All in favor?”

  Everyone, with the exception of Rocky and Tasha, raised their hands.

  “Settled,” Gram said. “You’ll both go.”

  Rocky could think of a dozen reasons why she shouldn’t go. A dozen and one. But as acting president and a longtime member and, even more so, as everyone’s friend, she couldn’t allow Tasha to represent them unchecked. God knew what she’d say or do while grabbing for the brass ring.

  Rocky looked at the woman who, three weeks ago during a down and dirty bar brawl, had tried to shove an olive up Rocky’s nose. “Why tomorrow, Tasha? Why so soon?”

  “Because they had an unexpected opening in their publication schedule and, given the current red-hot popularity of cupcakes, they’re putting our recipe book on the fast track.”

  “How fast?” Rachel asked.

  “I’ll find out,” Tasha said, then smirked at Rocky. “I booked a private charter.”

  But of course she did. Tasha, or rather her husband, was loaded.

  “Be at the airfield by seven o’clock a.m. As for hotels, I’ll be staying at the Waldorf Astoria.” She smiled. “Might be a little pricy for you.”

  “I have some contacts,” Chloe butted in. “Don’t worry, Rocky, I’ll hook you up with something affordable. I’d come with, but the grand opening of Moose-a-lotta is on Saturday.”

  Tasha snorted. “Charming name.”

  “We thought so,” Gram said. “It’s a themed café,” she told everyone. “Wait until you see!”

  “Can’t wait,” Rocky said.

  Tasha raised a professionally shaped brow. “Did I mention I’m not flying back until Sunday?”

  Meaning Rocky would miss the opening of Moose-a-lotta. “What publisher does business on Saturday?”

  “Our publisher.”

  “Don’t worry about it, sweet pea,” Gram said. “Better you’re in the big city looking after our best interests. If you run into any hassles, you can always call Jayce.”

  Rocky’s chest ached at the mention of the man who’d stolen and crushed her heart more than a decade before—not that Daisy knew. That walking Adonis of supercharged testosterone was the number one reason she did not want to go to Manhattan. Jayce lived a stone’s throw away in Brooklyn. Too close for Rocky’s comfort. After years of tense avoidance, they’d shared a week of volatile arguments. Every confrontation sizzled with sexual awareness. Heady stuff. Irritating, too, since Rocky wasn’t in the habit of sleeping with men she despised. When they’d parted three weeks ago, Jayce had melted her brain cells with a scorching kiss. Good-bye, he’d said. For now.

  Since then those words had haunted Rocky. They had sounded like a threat. Or maybe a promise. It scared the hell out of Rocky. She did not under any circumstances want to see Jayce again. Her freaking vulnerable and mangled heart couldn’t take it.

  “Rocky’s a scrapper,” Helen said. “She won’t run into any hassles.”

  “But if she does,” Gram said, “she can count on Jayce. Always been fond of that boy. He’s like a third big brother to my Rocky.”

  Rocky traded a look with Chloe and Monica, who knew her deepest, darkest secret.

  Big brother,
my ass.

  That tore it. Her trip to the city would just have to be 100 percent hassle free. In the words of Gram: hassle, schmassle. In order for Rocky to call on Jayce Bello, it would have to be one flipping huge catastrophe.

  She couldn’t imagine.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Even though Chloe and Monica had offered to take Rocky out for a drink, she’d opted to drive straight home. She knew they wanted to give her the opportunity to talk about Jayce, something she hadn’t done since she’d blurted her secret and barfed up her bitter heart for the two of them to see.

  As someone who typically kept her personal life, most especially her romantic liaisons, private, Rocky was embarrassed she’d shared so much. A mistake she’d vowed not to repeat. Thus, all her two friends knew was that she’d broken off with Adam Brody and tried making peace with Jayce. The latter hadn’t gone according to plan. At all.

  For the last three weeks Rocky had worked hard to push that torrid kiss and the feelings Jayce had rekindled from her mind. She wanted to move on with her life. Past her ancient grudge. If she let go of the resentment, maybe she could let go of the infatuation. Warped puppy love magnified a zillion percent. Maybe with a clean slate she could have a second chance with Adam or a new shot at a relationship with someone equally wonderful and safe. Instead, she still craved cocky and dangerous.

  It had been so much easier to smother that attraction when Jayce had been hundreds of miles away. The few times he’d visited Sugar Creek over the years, she’d kept her distance. Until this last time. This last time he’d rented a room at her inn and ransacked her life.

  Okay. It wasn’t Jayce’s fault that her B and B needed major repairs. He wasn’t to blame for her appliances going on the blink or her Jeep’s engine crashing. He had nothing to do with her flagging business or dismal bank account. But he had pushed her over the emotional edge.

  Now Jayce was gone and Rocky was regaining focus. She’d even sucked it up and asked Dev for a little—okay a lot of—financial advice and support. But she was going to pay it back. And she was going to hang on to her dream—the Red Clover.

  As she neared her countryside Victorian home, the one she’d lovingly converted into a bed-and-breakfast, the one she’d decorated with antiques and filled with eclectic knickknacks in a fashion that mirrored Gram’s home, Rocky’s heart swelled. It wasn’t the swankiest B and B in the county, not even close, but it sat on three acres of gorgeous land with Thrush Mountain as a backdrop and it had a history. Rocky was all about history and tradition. As for the Red Clover, with her brother’s help—and it had cost her pride dearly to ask—the B and B would at last prosper. Or at least stay afloat.

  Rocky parked her Jeep, now running like a charm thanks to Monica’s husband, Leo, and hustled inside the house. She tossed her keys in the vintage stoneware pottery bowl sitting on the circa-1880 mahogany parlor table—just two of the cherished bargains she’d picked up during one of her antique-hunting sprees. The familiar chink was muffled by thick plastic. Everything in most of the downstairs rooms was draped with plastic and tarp. Aside from the house’s needing a new roof, the front and back porch had started to list and warp. There were cracks in the ceiling and several other interior flaws. She hadn’t realized how many until the consulting contractors had talked her and Dev through their findings and recommendations. She’d been living in chaos for two weeks now, feeling out of sorts and restless. Bored.

  “Maybe a couple of days away will do me good.”

  Readjusting her attitude, Rocky beelined to the kitchen and stored the cupcake care package in the fridge. Then she sailed upstairs and dragged her rolling duffel bag out of her bedroom closet. She suddenly regretted not asking Chloe’s advice on what to pack for a weekend in New York City. Tasha had made a crack about Rocky’s wardrobe, which mostly consisted of jeans, layered T-shirts, and sneakers.

  I don’t suppose you have a dress and heels in your closet. Something professional or at least semi-stylish?

  A bit of a tomboy and comfortable in her skin, Rocky had never cared or worried about style.

  Until now.

  She was frowning down at her collection of sneakers, clogs, and boots when her phone rang. “Yo,” she answered.

  “Are you insane?”

  “Hello to you, too, Dev.” Android wedged between her ear and shoulder, Rocky rifled through her clothes in search of a dress. “Wondered how long it would take you to call.”

  “Chloe just told me. I’m floored she suggested you go with Tasha and that Gram, of all people, agreed.”

  “You’re just worried because I’ve never been to the Big Apple.”

  “You’ve never been to any big city. Not alone.”

  “I won’t be alone. I’ll be with Tasha.”

  “Like I’m supposed to trust her? I’m surprised you do.”

  “I don’t, but I’m a big girl, oh worrywart brother. Almost thirty. I can take care of myself.”

  “What if you get lost?”

  “I’ll ask for directions.”

  “What if you get mugged?”

  “I’ll chase the guy down.”

  “Christ.”

  Rocky rolled her eyes—at her brother and at the modest black dress she’d worn to at least three family funerals. “Kidding. I’m not stupid, Dev. If some idiot has the nerve to snatch my purse, I’ll call the police. Not that that’s going to happen. What are the chances? I’ll be there for two days. Chloe lived in Manhattan for years and she never got mugged.”

  “She was lucky. And city savvy. Maybe I should come with you.”

  “You’re joking, right? Do you really want to spend the weekend away with Tasha? She’ll be all over you.”

  “I can handle Tasha.”

  Rocky snorted. “That would make her day.”

  “Rocky—”

  “Forget it. You’re not coming.” She gave up on the dress hunt and moved to her pine bureau—a sturdy yet romantic piece handmade and painted by Sam. “Besides, what are you thinking? The grand opening of Moose-a-lotta is on Saturday. Day after tomorrow. Hello? Gram and Chloe’s big day?”

  He blew out a breath. “You’re right. I can’t go.” It had to be killing him, being the overprotective control freak Dev was. “I’ll enlist Luke.”

  Rocky gritted her teeth while rolling underpants and bras into a side pocket of her duffel. No doubt she was overpacking, but even though she’d never admit it, she was nervous about this trip. “Luke has a business to run,” she said, tossing in two pairs of jeans and assorted T-shirts—go with what you know … or have. Hell, she could always buy a dress in New York. “The weekend is the busiest time for the Sugar Shack. You should know since you do the accounting.”

  Though her brothers co-owned the popular bar and restaurant, Luke handled the day-to-day management as well as acting as host and bartender while Dev operated behind the scenes, handling the books, payroll, banking, et cetera. Luke had never been a numbers guy, whereas Dev, who also ran the family’s department store, had a master’s degree in business and finance.

  “Oh, and whatever you do,” she added, cheeks burning, “don’t call Jayce.”

  “This mysterious rift between you two is a pain in my ass, Rocky. You’re my baby sister and Jayce is my oldest, most trusted friend. I’d feel better about you frolicking around Manhattan if—”

  “I won’t be frolicking and I don’t need a babysitter.”

  “Do you at least have his number programmed in your phone? In case something happens?”

  “Nothing will—”

  “Yes or no, dammit.”

  “Yes.” Not that she’d use it. “Is Chloe there?” she asked, desperate to steer the conversation away from Jayce.

  “Sitting at the other end of the sofa, casting me annoyed looks in between surfing the Net on her laptop. She thinks I’m nagging you.”

  “You are nagging me. Ask her if she contacted her friend about a hotel room. She said—”

  “Done. You’ll be staying at
the Hotel Chandler. Grab a pen. I’ll give you the address. Never mind. Chloe said she’ll e-mail it to you, along with her friend’s name.”

  “Great. I’ll print out the information later. Is it within walking distance of anywhere neat?”

  “There are lots of neat places in Manhattan,” he said with a smile in his voice. “Hold on. What, honey?” he said off to the side, then into the phone, “Chloe said the hotel’s two blocks from the Empire State Building and three blocks from Macy’s.”

  Rocky grinned, more excited now than nervous. “Cool. I mean I may as well do some sightseeing while I’m there, right?”

  “Chloe said don’t look like a tourist.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “‘Don’t gawk. Be aware of your surroundings.’”

  Rocky rolled her eyes and gave a two-fingered salute. “Got it.”

  “Call me when you take off and call me when you land. And when you get to the hotel. How are you getting from the airport into the city?”

  “Tasha hired a car.”

  “Good. About this meeting, hon—”

  “I know. ‘Don’t sign anything.’ Listen, Dev. It’s late and I need to finish packing. Plane leaves at the crack of dawn.”

  “Want me to pick you up and drop you off?”

  “Starlight Field? Fifteen-minute drive? I think I can manage.”

  “Right.”

  She smiled. “Back in three days. You’ll barely know I’m gone. Love you, big brother.”

  “Love you, too, Sis. Sleep tight.”

  Rocky disconnected and tossed her phone on the bed, an image of Jayce kissing the holy hell out of her smoking through her mind. She was pretty sure she wouldn’t sleep at all.

  * * *

  Rocky woke with a start, squinted at the blurry red numbers on her bedside digital clock.

  5:45

  No freaking way!