Anything but Love

She kept her gaze on the cold mountains, hoping to somehow freeze her heart. “Hon. You call every woman hon.”

“I do?”

“All the time.”

He fell silent for a moment then asked, “You think that’s chauvinistic?”

“I think it’s…” She closed her eyes, trying to wrangle a sensible argument. Right now she couldn’t come up with anything better than it made her feel ordinary. As if there was nothing special to set her apart from any other woman he’d ever flirted up or slept with. Which was sort of needy and pathetic on her part. “Never mind.”

They fell into a tense silence.

Luke turned on the radio, though he kept the volume low.

Alison Krauss.

Rae had always liked Luke’s taste in music. At the Shack he pumped in classic rock and country pop. She tried to focus on the soothing ballad, but her mind was fixed on her baby. Was she all right?

“How you feeling, Rae?”

Rae, not hon. A lump lodged in her throat. “Lousy.”

“Need me to pull over?”

“No. It’s not that.”

“Stop thinking the worst.”

“I’m not…” She shook off the lie. “I can’t help it.”

“Think about something else. Tell me what’s up between you and your mom. Why are you on bad terms? What’s up with her husband?”

“I don’t have the energy.”

“All right then I’ll talk. Back in Bel Air, you asked about my family. How about I bring you up to speed?”

Weary, queasy, she sighed and relaxed against the leather seat. “Okay.”

“You know about Gram and Chloe’s cafe, Moose-a-lotta. It caught on like wildfire. Aside from themselves, they now have a staff of five. Chloe and Dev have been living together now for almost five months. She still hasn’t agreed to a wedding date, which drives my brother crazy, but she’s got some sort of superstition thing going on with her pregnancy and his past.”

Rae swallowed. “Chloe must be about six months along now.”

“Mmm.”

“And Monica’s expecting now, too. Sam told me. I’m so thrilled for her.”

“Everyone’s thrilled. Happened when Leo took her to Paris as a way of resparking their marriage.”

“And in the process they made a baby. Twins. How romantic.”

“You know Leo. Not a hearts-and-poetry guy, but yeah. What you said. Speaking of happy endings,” Luke said, skating over baby talk. “Rocky and Jayce are getting married—day after Valentine’s Day—and Gram and Vince are living together in Vince’s house. Daisy’s still copping to the ‘just friends’ living together for companionship thing. No one believes it, but no one pushes. Especially family.” He frowned. “Who wants to think about their grandma getting it on? Not me.”

Rae smiled a little. “Understandable.” She thought about Daisy Monroe, a feisty eccentric, and Vincent, the mild-mannered operator of Oslow’s General Store. They couldn’t be more opposite, yet somehow they clicked.

“Did you know my dad was diagnosed with prostate cancer?”

Rae blinked. “What? No.”

“Thought Rocky might have mentioned. Or Sam.”

“No. No one…” She tried to sit straighter and failed. She did, however, home in on Luke’s expression and tone. “How is he?”

“Recovering. Thank God. The proud bastard kept it to himself. Given he’s a workaholic, we all thought it was fishy when he retired early to move down to Florida with Mom. Turns out there’s a specialist down there. Dad underwent radical treatment and, though it wasn’t easy, he’s beating it. Dev found out first and finally let Rocky and I in on the news not long after you left.”

He flexed his hands on the wheel. “They came up for Christmas. Dad looked thin and worn but he never complained and declared the topic off-limits. Mom seemed in good spirits, but a little twitchy. It was hard seeing them like that. Thinking how they’d weathered the worst part alone. Pisses me off just thinking about it.”

“I’m sure your dad had his children’s best interest at heart. Withholding as a way of shielding.”

“I’m a big boy, Rae. I may have a carefree approach to life but that doesn’t mean I’m incapable of handling hard truths and challenging situations.”

Rae’s pulse kicked. Was he still talking about his dad?

“I just want you to know, I’m here for you.” He glanced over. “And the baby.”

It wasn’t a formal commitment. Certainly not a declaration of love. More like an offer of friendship. She didn’t know what to make of it. Or Luke. Every time she got a whiff of his devotion to family, her insides went all squishy. “You don’t know how lucky you are, Luke. Being part of a big nurturing family.”

“Not all sunshine and roses, trust me.”

She’d take it, thorns and all. Squeezing back tears, Rae palmed her stomach. “This baby is my family.”

He reached over and placed his hand on hers. “Mine, too.”

FOURTEEN

The Rothwell Farm.

It had taken less than three minutes to drive from the intersection of Swamp and Fox to the property now owned by Harper Day. Tucked away in a portion of the woods and butted up against a now-barren cornfield covered with snow, the two-story farmhouse looked nothing like the last time Sam had seen it—which had been almost a year ago.

Beside him Harper yammered on her phone. She hadn’t shut up since he’d buckled her into his truck, only now she was arguing with someone at her PR firm—not that he was paying attention. He could care less about some B-list celebrity bailing on rehab. Why would anyone care?

After parking, he swung out of the cab, desperate for a breath of fresh air. Harper’s perfume had been doing a number on him, a sexy scent that danced up his nostrils and shimmied through his blood. Too bad she was so damned annoying. She had to be hopelessly single. He couldn’t imagine any man withstanding her shallow preoccupation with celebrities, not to mention the incessant phone chatter. When he opened the passenger door she was still at it. He tuned her out and focused on the ground and the house as they carefully navigated her poorly shoveled walkway.

Sam had been intrigued by this property ever since he was a kid. At first, because of the haunted history. Later, because of the house itself. Originally built in 1880, even subsequent renovations hadn’t diminished its charm. The last time he’d been here, the place had been abandoned. Again. The roof had been minus random shingles and the gray clapboard siding had been faded and cracked. Since acquiring the property, Harper had had the roof replaced and the exterior painted—federal blue with snow white trim. Pleasantly historic. The floor of the deep porch that ran the length of the house had been stained red. A bold touch that had Sam itching to detail the stark white eaves with a splash of color. He wondered if Harper would be open to suggestions. Although that would entail spending more time here. With her. Couldn’t say he was up for that.

As impressed as he’d been with the exterior renovations, the interior was a different matter. The walls and floors were bare. Furnishings were a step below sparse. Sam took it all in, holding his tongue as he followed Harper through one unfinished room after another. Rocky had been working on this project since November, yet there was barely any evidence of her presence.

They came to the stairway leading to the second floor. Still talking on the phone, Harper paused, examined the clump of tissues she’d been holding to her head then stuffed them in her pocket and started climbing. Sam assumed the woman wanted him to follow. She didn’t wave him off or ask him to wait. Then again she was so damned focused on her call, maybe she’d forgotten he was even there.