Beth Ciotta - Anything but Love

“Just a feeling.” Heart pounding, Rae crossed the threshold and moved calmly toward the front door with a wave to Adam and Kane. Part of her wanted Luke to follow her, but she knew he wouldn’t. She’d just put a serious kink in the life of Sugar Creek’s biggest playboy.

Rocky Monroe couldn’t remember when she’d ever felt this happy. She kept waiting for the sky to fall. For her recent good fortune to tank. It’s not that she was a cynic or a defeatist, but she had a history of rotten luck. She’d spent years seething over her love gone wrong with Jayce Bello. Years. She’d experienced multiple and increasing financial setbacks. The absolute worst had been watching her bed-and-breakfast, her home, her dream, go up in smoke. Along with all of her personal possessions.

Oh, yeah. Losing everything sucked big time.

Only, when her senses had cleared, she’d realized she hadn’t lost everything. Certainly, not the things she cherished most.

Her family. Her friends. Her dog, Brewster.

Jayce.

She’d also retained her confidence and drive, and her toehold in a new career as an interior decorator. Over the last three months, Rocky had settled into her new home, Daisy’s old house, with Jayce and Brewster. She’d reveled in planning her wedding along with her mom and Daisy, and her two closest friends, Chloe and Monica. She’d embraced the challenge of her new business—Red Clover Renovations. It was a slow build, but she also held a part-time job at Maple Molly’s Antique Barn—a job she loved—and Jayce had struck gold with his cyber detective agency. Financially, she, they were set. Emotionally, Rocky was riding a never-ending wave of love. Jayce rocked her world and Rocky gave as good as she got. Life was good. Life was great!

Except for the delay in the release of the Cupcake Lovers recipe book, and the woman who was fast becoming the new bane of Rocky’s existence, her client from hell—Harper Day.

Rocky shook her head in wonder as she pulled her jeep into her cousin, Sam’s, drive. Tasha Burke had left town and Harper Day had moved in. Not permanently, but due to her excessive texting and e-mails, she was always “present.” It was like trading one pain in the ass for another. It’s not that Rocky couldn’t handle the high-maintenance publicist from the West Coast. She just needed a reprieve for the next few weeks so she could focus on herself and Jayce. On their wedding.

That’s where Sam came in.

Hopefully.

Bundled against the frigid cold and mounds of snow, Rocky made her way across Sam’s shoveled sidewalk and knocked on his front door. She’d always loved that it was painted bright red. That had been Paula’s influence. She’d loved bright colors and everything cheery in life—flowers, pop music. She’d been Sam’s opposite in so many ways and yet his perfect mate. Rocky’s heart still ached when she thought about the awful way Paula had faded from this world. No one blamed Sam for mourning his lost love so deeply, not that he ever talked about his grief or loneliness. But everyone wanted him to find new happiness. Everyone had laid their money on Rachel Lacey, but that hadn’t worked out, and now Sam was back to closing himself off to dating.

The door swung open and Rocky’s tall, rugged, former military cousin greeted her with a teddy bear under one arm and two Miss Kitty pocketbooks slung over the other. Rocky smothered a grin as she moved inside what was usually a tip-top house. “What happened in here?”

“Babysitter couldn’t get Mina to go to bed last night. Neither could I. In an effort to tire her out, I endured a fashion show. It lasted an hour. This was the fallout.”

Rocky pressed her lips together as she surveyed the damage. Strewn about the living room were random piles of coats, feather boas, bright-colored shoes, hats, tiaras, and what looked to be about thirty fuzzy friends.

“Her audience,” Sam said, indicating the rows of ragtag stuffed animals. “Along with me.”

“Where was Ben?”

“In bed. Pretending to sleep. He doesn’t think I know, but he reads those anime books under the covers every night by flashlight.”

“You don’t want him reading graphic novels?”

“I don’t want him reading period after lights out.”

Rocky unzipped her jacket and perched her hands on her hips. “I never realized how many clothes and toys Mina has.”

“That’s because I, we, keep them pretty organized in her bedroom and playroom.”

Rocky swept up one of the boas. “Haven’t seen these before.”

“New fascination. Boas and princess crowns.”

“Why so many?”

Sam turned away, scooping up a purple elephant wearing a raspberry pink tiara. “She wanted them.”

Rocky raised a brow. Sam loved his kids more than anything in the world, but he wasn’t one to spoil them. Unless … “Mina still crying every morning when you drop her off at school?”

“Frickin’ torture. It’s all I can do not to swoop her up and hit the road.”

Rocky’s heart jerked when she caught the miserable look on Sam’s face. The rough-and-tough solider turned brawny carpenter, felled by a five-year-old’s tears. “So what? You’ve been bargaining with Mina? Don’t cry tomorrow and I’ll buy you this or that? How’s that working out?” she teased gently.

He turned now, smirking. “You see all the boas and crowns?”

“I’m sure it’s just a phase. The crying thing. I don’t know about the boas and crowns. I was never into all that girly stuff.”

That drew a slight smile out of Sam. “I remember your fondness for Tonka trucks and Legos.”

Now Rocky frowned. “When the time comes, I hope Jayce and I have boys.” Rocky had always been a tomboy. Tailing after her brothers and boy cousins … Jayce.

“Boys come with different challenges,” Sam said. “It’s all good.” He dropped an armful of toys into a jumbo plastic pink bin. “You mentioned needing a favor. Want to talk about it over coffee?”

“Sure.” Rocky followed Sam into his spic-and-span kitchen, draped her jacket over the back of a kitchen high-back chair, and took a seat. “How booked are you right now?”

“What, with custom orders?”

Sam crafted beautiful furniture. Painted it, too. Intricate stenciled and freehand art. A beautiful pine armoire he’d made for Rocky had burned up in the fire. She shoved that depressing thought aside. “That and carpentry work.”

“What do you need?”

“It’s not for me. Well, it is for me. In a roundabout way. I need to get a client off my back for a few weeks, turn her focus to something other than the perfect décor for her vacation home.”

“I take it she’s picky.”

“More like anal.”

“And you want to turn her loose on me and my designs?”

“Actually, the house needs a few interior repairs before we decorate in earnest.”

“What house?”

“The old Rothwell Farm.”

Sam raised a brow.

“You’ve always been fascinated with that place,” Rocky pressed. “Here’s your chance to make your mark.”

“Your client’s not spooked by the legend?”

“She’s too pragmatic to believe in ghosts.”

“Anal and pragmatic. Fun.”

“She’ll pay cash.”

Sam sipped his coffee.

“More money for boas and crowns.”

His lip curled. “Smart ass.”

“So you’ll do it?” Rocky whooped. “Thanks, Sam. This way I can distract Harper with another kind of renovation. Just until I get past my wedding. She’s really not that bad. Just used to a faster pace than we are. Although this job has been dragging on since November. She purchased the farm as a second home and, so far, she’s only flown in for a few days here and there. She’s a bit of a workaholic and easily distracted by phone calls. I take it back. She is that bad.” She smiled. “But she’s nice!”

“Molly described her as a flake.” Sam shifted his weight. “Last time I dropped off a piece of furniture at the Antique Barn, your client had just left.”

Crap. “Would it help if I said Harper is a nice flake?”

“She’s from California, right?”

“I think she’s Canadian, but yeah, she’s been living in L.A., working as a publicist. Speaking of L.A., did you hear the gossip?”

“Can you narrow it down?”

“Rachel’s back in town. I mean Rae. Damn. I have to get that in my head. Not sure why she’s back, but she called me a little earlier. Asked if we could meet this evening. I have to say, I’m dying of curiosity. Hey, do you think she knows Harper?”

“Why would you think that?”

“They’re both from L.A. Harper’s a Hollywood publicist. Rae’s mom is a Hollywood star.”

“More like a tabloid curiosity,” Sam said. “Famous for being famous.”

“And gorgeous. If you go for that sort of overt sex kitten look. Olivia, I mean. Not Rae. Hard to believe they’re related.”

“Not so hard,” Sam said with an enigmatic expression.

Rocky narrowed her eyes while Sam refreshed their mugs. “So have you actually seen Harper Day?”

“Nope. But I heard she’s pretty hot.” Sam angled his head. “This carpentry gig. You’re not trying to set me up, right?”

“Trust me. This is a purely selfish on my part.” Rocky’s suspicions continued to flare. Something was up with Sam. “You haven’t given up on Rae, have you?”

Sam slid a plate of homemade pastries between them and pulled up a chair. “Haven’t been inside the Rothwell house in years. We talking minor repairs? Or major?”

Luke had lingered in his office a good ten minutes after Rae left. It had taken him that long to catch his breath, to slow his bucking heart. For a minute he thought he might be having a panic attack. He’d never had one of those before but he’d heard it resembled a heart attack. At thirty-two, he was too young for a coronary, right?

Pregnant.

Rae was pregnant.

With his baby.

Unless she was lying about the paternity part, although why would she? Like she said, there were tests.

Two hours later, Adam and Kane were long gone—thank God—and Luke was still tending bar while absorbing the mind-blowing news. Rae had been eerily calm. It had forced Luke to keep his own cool. God forbid he come off like an immature ass. She’d already pegged him a judgmental jerk. He’d unwittingly pissed off some women in his time but, in lashing back, they’d never struck a sore spot. Not like Rae.

Rae pressed Luke’s buttons regarding self-esteem. No one had pressed those buttons for years. Not since he was in grade school and some kids made fun of him for not being able to read a comic book. Rae had gone to all the best schools. She had bachelor’s and master’s degrees. She’d traveled abroad. She was freaking independently wealthy, as in filthy rich. And she was only twenty-five!

All the background info Jayce had dug up on Reagan Devereaux had played out in Luke’s mind as she’d sat across from him in her stylish skinny jeans and classy, soft clingy sweater. She was unlike any woman he’d ever slept with. Completely out of his league.

Of course she wasn’t expecting Luke to do the right thing by stepping up and offering marriage or at the very least financial support. She didn’t need his money and why the hell would she want to marry a bartender who was only half owner of a business. Half owner because Luke didn’t have a head for numbers and finances, unlike his smart and savvy older brother, Dev. Plus, she didn’t even seem to like Luke much. It had just been sex … not even great sex at that.

Damn.

He couldn’t get over how unemotional she’d been.

“I thought you’d want to know.”

Hell, yes. The thought of having a kid in the world and not knowing about it rubbed Luke every way wrong.

“I know you don’t like me.”

Not exactly true. To be fair, he didn’t know Rae enough not to like her. He was pissed because she’d roused his interest as shy, vulnerable Rachel Lacey. Frustrated because he’d felt something special when they’d kissed—both times. He resented that she’d bailed on him and everyone in Sugar Creek who cared about her, leaving them clueless and worried. He resented being manipulated then sent away on Christmas Eve. And he damn well hated the fact that Rae was a tangled mess of secrets, evasiveness, and lies. Although she’d been pretty freaking straight forward today.

“I’m going to have your baby.”

He’d always been so careful. Always prepared. Always covered. Even if the woman was on birth control, Luke used a condom. Always! He still couldn’t believe how he’d lost his wits and control with Rae. One screw up and bam! Luke had never thought about being a dad now; maybe when he was in his forties. Now it was all he could think about.