Anything but Love

TWENTY-FOUR

Sam was in the liquor store when his phone pinged for the twentieth time in the last hour. He’d been trading texts, sexy texts with Harper. If he didn’t know better, he’d think he’d been possessed by a twenty-year-old. Sam was almost forty. He texted out of necessity, not on the norm. He sure as hell didn’t thumb racy thoughts into his phone and hit Send.

Except for tonight.

She’d started it. He’d just gotten Ben and Mina settled with a bucket of fried chicken when Harper had sent him her first note.

GET OVER HERE SOON OR I’LL COME W/O U

He’d had to read it twice. Did she mean what he thought she meant? Would she be so brazen?

Yeah. She would.

Balls tight, Sam had walked out of the kitchen and thumbed a response. DO THAT AND I’LL HAVE TO PUNISH YOU

THREAT?

PROMISE

IN2 KINK?

IN2 U

There’d been a pause and he’d thought he’d blown it. But then she’d responded …

NOT IF U DON’T GET HERE SOON

To which Sam texted: RED OR WHITE?

For the next half hour he’d been in a bit of a blue-ball haze. He’d dropped the kids at their grandparents’ on the pretense that a friend had a plumbing problem and he’d promised to lend a hand. He wasn’t sure how long he’d be. An hour? Two? He’d be in touch.

Looking his mother-in-law in the eye hadn’t come easy. His pocket had pinged with another incoming message and Sue had raised a brow.

“Impatient friend,” she said.

Did she suspect Sam had a date? She knew he’d gone out that one time with Rae and both she and Charlie had approved. They knew he’d loved their daughter. Time to move on. So they and everyone else in Sugar Creek kept telling him. Only this wasn’t a date. And it wasn’t Rae. This was Harper and an hour or two of hot sex. Maybe kinky sex. It had been a long time, long before his wife, but Sam could do kink.

He’d driven to the liquor store conjuring different scenarios. He’d been ready to describe one when he’d received that ping in the Merlot aisle, only the text wasn’t from Harper, it was from Daisy and it was freaking long. Sam didn’t know many texting acronyms, but he used the few he did know and tried to be succinct. Daisy was a text-a-holic and never, ever abbreviated. She had a lot to say about Rae and the book deal and Harper getting them some “buzz.” The note rambled on and was killing his own “buzz” so he texted back “WILL DO” and made a mental note to reread in depth … L8R.

Sam reached the Rothwell Farm just before six. It was already dark. The temp—five below. The night air stung his cheeks and his boots crunched on icy snow as he made his way to the dimly lit porch. He was too hot to be cold. Too randy to be nervous. Harper had worked him up good and hard with her sexting. And the visual of her naked body, that beautifully sculpted body with its lush assets, was a constant in his mind’s eye. Harper was everything he’d imagined that first day when she’d landed in his arms—Sports Illustrated–bathing-suit-model-perfection—and Sam was going to nail her.

In spite of the freezing temperature, she answered the door in that black lace thong and bra and—thank you Jesus—stiletto heels. He was pretty sure he he’d died and gone to heaven or maybe hell depending on whether he’d gotten in over his head. She could be into some serious S&M for all he knew. Not his thing. Regardless, he moved inside.

“Brought the wine,” he said.

“Brought something else, too,” she said, palming the bulge in his jeans. “The wine can wait. I can’t. But first, I’ve got some rules.”

Sam shut the door and set aside the wine while Harper launched into a laundry list of do’s and don’ts and within the first five seconds he knew her kink didn’t extend to S&M, although she wasn’t opposed to D&S or B&D. She added a couple acronyms he didn’t recognize, but he wasn’t really listening at this point so much as thinking about that lush mouth wrapped around his—

“No sleeping over. And when we’re done, we’re done. We won’t discuss it after or ever. I—”

“We doing this?” Sam asked as tossed his jacket. “Or are you going to talk it to death?”

Blue eyes sparking, Harper grabbed the wine bottle then launched herself at Sam, wrapping her legs around his middle and using her mouth for something other than yakking. Holy hell, this woman could kiss. Counting his lucky stars and cradling her beautiful ass, Sam opted to move this party upstairs, pronto.

“Bad time to talk?”

“Great time to talk.” Rae lowered the volume on the television via remote, repositioned her laptop, and rested back against her pillows. She was beginning to think she wasn’t going to hear from Luke again today, so she’d immersed herself in work, rather than dwelling on his absence. “How’d it go with your dad?”

“Believe it or not the old man put up a fight even with the four of us and mom facing him down.”

“Who gave Jerome more grief? You or Dev?”

“That would be Rocky.”

“Really?”

“She lost it, Rae. I mean big-time. She was all up in his face, accusing him of being a selfish SOB. What if he took a turn for the worse by not addressing this present glitch? What if he died? Then she’d forever associate her wedding day with the day that killed him.”

“Wow.”

“Then the zinger. How dare he potentially ruin what should be the happiest day of her life.”

Rae cringed. “That’s—”

“Harsh? You should’ve been there. It was worse in person. I mean, yeah, I’m pissed at Dad for the way he’s handled a lot of this,” Luke said, “but it’s hard to take a tough stance when he looks like a shadow of his former self.”

“Not hard for Rocky apparently.”

“I don’t know. I think she went bonkers for a few seconds. Right after she gave him hell, she burst into tears and threw herself into his arms. That’s when the old man broke.”

Rae’s eyes burned as she imagined the scene, the emotions. She thought about the intense love between the Monroe siblings and their parents and acknowledged a gaping hole in her heart. She’d never had that kind of connection with her mother. She couldn’t remember her birth father. She’d never had a chance to bond with her second and third stepfathers because Olivia kept sending her away. As for Geoffrey … there would be no bonding there. Ever.

“Rae.”

“What?”

“I asked if you were okay.”

“Yes. Yes, of course.” She palmed her forehead, gathered her wits. “I was just thinking about how your father’s illness has impacted everyone. I thought he was beating this thing.”

“He was. And there’s still a strong chance he will.”

“So where do things stand?”

“Dad buckled regarding the test. Dev called the specialist and I don’t know who did what, but they were able to move the CT scan up to tomorrow. Whether Rocky and Jayce postpone the wedding hinges on the results.”

“Awfully close to the wire,” Rae said.

“Things are a little tense,” Luke said. “So how was your day? How’d it go with the publisher? How’s it looking with Sugar Tots?”

Rae snuggled back against her pillows, smiling and jazzed to share her day with Luke. Hoping she could brighten his mood with uplifting news. “Everything went great. Just as I’d hoped Brett, our editor, was intrigued with the concept of exploiting my name, or rather my fortune and my mother’s name, to give our cupcake book an edge over every other cupcake book saturating the market right now.”

“I would think that the history of the Cupcake Lovers, the military angle and charitable aspect, would be edge enough,” Luke said.

“A celebrity tie-in is a guaranteed sales boost. Not to mention it ensures free publicity. Brett’s taking this new angle—Daisy calls it our gimmick—to a marketing meeting tomorrow. Except, my wheels started turning while we were talking and, I have to say, Luke, I’m not sure it’s in our best interest to go for forward with Highlife.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just don’t sense they believe in our cause the way we do. I don’t trust Highlife will do right by the CLs. Which got me to thinking … what if we self-published the book instead of going through a conventional publisher? Cut out the middle man allowing us more profit for the charities?”

“The Cupcake Lovers signed a contract.”

“There might be a way around that. Especially since they’ve fudged on their end. Chloe said she’d have Dev look into it.”

“You spoke to Chloe about this?”

“And Daisy. The opportunity was there and I was dying to run the idea by someone. Chloe and I are researching self-publishing so we’ll be able to present a strong and educated case to the club on Thursday.” Rae got all tingly just thinking about it. The prospect of taking control, in playing a vital role in furthering such a great cause.

“If you cut out the middle man,” Luke said, “someone else will have to take on that work.”

“It would mean hiring some freelance help.”

“The club’s nonprofit, Rae. They, we, can’t afford that kind of upfront investment.”

“I can.”

Luke fell silent for a moment and Rae frowned.

“I sense apprehension,” she said.

“Seems like you’re taking on an awful lot. Financing and overseeing the publishing of a book plus purchasing and reorganizing, hell, running the day care center. We’re talking about a lot of money.”

“I have a lot of money.”

“And time and energy.”

“I have that, too.”

“What about as you get further along in your pregnancy? What about after you have the baby?”

“Did you think I was going to be a stay-at-home mom?”

“You can afford to be.”

She didn’t know why that statement bothered her. It was true. And there’d been no sarcasm in Luke’s tone. He’d just stated a fact. “By the time the baby comes, the Cupcake Lovers’ book will already be out—one way or another. As for Sugar Tots…” Her mind whirled with all her plans—the renovations and expansion. The programs and staff. She didn’t want to skimp on one single aspect and yet she knew it would be a lot of work. Frustrated now, she blew out a breath. “I’ll figure it out. Lots of women juggle motherhood and a career.”

“Don’t get angry.”

“I’m not—”

“You are. I hear it in your voice. I’m not telling you what to do, Rae. I’m just pointing out that you have some pretty aggressive and time-consuming plans. I know you’ll do right by the baby. I guess I’m wondering how you’ll make time for us?”

Rae blinked.

“You know what? Forget I asked. That was … never mind. I’m not myself tonight. This thing with Dad. I should go.”

“Luke.”

“Did you scope out any rental properties today?”

Off balance now, Rae palmed her forehead. “Although that had been my plan, no. The day got away from me.”

“Good. Hold off.”

“Why?”

“I hope to be back by Wednesday. Just hold off.”

“Okay.”

“I love it when you say that.”

And just like that Rae sensed a change in Luke’s mood. She smiled a little, arched a brow. “You love it when I say ‘okay’? Why?”

“Mostly when you say it to me, it means you’re putting your faith in me. Trusting my judgment. My abilities.”

She frowned now. “Why would I doubt—”

“I know you know about my reading problem.”

Rae pushed off of the pillows, shocked and primed by the turn in conversation.

“Are you going to pretend otherwise?”

“No. That is, I suspected.” Rae licked her lips, choosing her words carefully. “I have a stepbrother who struggled with dyslexia. Plus part of my studies involved the complexities of learning disabilities,” she said straight on. “I picked up on signs most people wouldn’t. You cope well.”

“If by cope you mean I hide it well, then yes. I do. It’s always been enough for me. But now … now I worry it won’t be enough for you. Or our child.”

“Luke—”

“Regardless of my … challenge, I can take care of you, Rae, and our baby. When I said you could afford to be a stay-at-home mom, I wasn’t thinking about your fortune. I’m a hard worker and more than capable of being a good provider.”

Her heart swelled and ached knowing his pride was taking a monumental hit. “You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know.”

“I just wanted to get it out there.”

“Okay.”

He laughed a little. “Did you say that on purpose?”

“Yes.” She hugged a pillow to her aching chest, wishing she could hug Luke instead. “I can help you. If you want. I just need to know what type—”

“Visual.”

Her shoulders sagged with relief. Not trauma or primary. “I can definitely help.”

“I appreciate that, but … I have to tell you that would be hell on the ego.”

“Not me then. Someone else. You can tackle this, Luke.” His silence quickened her pulse. She knew enough not to push. Not now. That he’d admitted the problem at all was huge. “How about we leave off for now and discuss this more in person?”

“That won’t come easy for me.”

“Whenever you’re ready.”

After a moment, Luke said, “I should let you get some sleep.”

“It’s been a full day, that’s for sure.” She scraped her teeth over her lower lip, praying she was handling this right. She knew his disability didn’t necessarily factor into business sense, but did he? Generally those who suffered dyslexia were highly intuitive. Uber street-smart. “Luke?”

“Yeah.”

“When you get back, I was hoping I could get your two cents on Sugar Tots. My meeting went well at the bank and if everything goes smoothly the day care center will be mine—lock, stock, and barrel—by month’s end. I’ve never owned a business. You run one of the most successful establishments in town. I’d appreciate your input.”

“You don’t have to patronize—”

“I’m not.”

“All right. First thought? Change the name. You mentioned launching after-school programs for older kids. I can tell you right now, if I were a ten-year-old boy, I wouldn’t be keen on spending my afternoons at a place called Sugar Tots.”

“Good point.” Truly it was. “Any suggestions?”

“Not off the top of my head. Maybe we can brainstorm when I get home.”

“Sounds good.” She tamped down a whirlwind of emotions, thinking this would be a good place to stop for the night. “I’ll say a prayer for your dad.”

“I appreciate that. Goodnight, Reagan.”

“Goodnight, Luke.”