Rae took off her big, dark sunglasses then brushed snowflakes from her wind-tousled hair. “Short and really red. I know.” She’d lost count of how many times she’d said that in the last few days.
“You look fabulous. Hang your coat on the tree and stay awhile. We have some catching up to do.”
Rae raised the logoed bag she’d been carrying. “Brought coffee from Moose-a-lotta.”
“The best in town.” Casey pulled a cushioned stool next to hers. “Mind if we talk here instead of my office? Fran was supposed to be here today but she called out sick.”
“Just happy for the chat.” They’d caught up a little over the phone this morning. Casey now knew about as much as everyone else regarding Rae’s reason for living a one-year ruse and her reasons for coming back. Rae sat next to the bohemian-dressed woman and passed her a cup of hazelnut coffee.
“So tell me about Luke.”
Rae rolled her eyes. “I knew you were going to ask that.”
“Well, come on. It’s the talk of the town. You bagged Sugar Creek’s biggest playboy.”
“I didn’t bag him.”
“He’s gotta be head over heels in love with you, girl. Why else would he go exclusive?”
Why indeed? Rae didn’t doubt Luke felt something for her. They had a physical and emotional connection. But he’d never mentioned love and she was sure a good part of his feelings were wrapped up in the baby and the prospect of being a dad. Something she understood. The moment she’d learned she was pregnant Rae’s world and her priorities shifted.
She tried to relax and enjoy reconnecting with Casey, but the longer Rae dodged mention of her pregnancy, the more uncomfortable she felt. Her reason for keeping the baby secret no longer outweighed her need to be forthright with all the people she’d once deceived. As soon as Luke got back, they’d have to talk.
Just then her phone rang. “I’m sorry, Casey. Just let me see … It’s my lawyer in L.A.”
“Go on and take it.”
“I’ll just see what he wants … Al?”
“A heads-up would have been nice, Reagan.”
He didn’t sound happy. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve had six calls in the last forty minutes from various organizations, all vying for your money.”
“What?”
“When you announce to the world you’re devoting your inheritance to philanthropic needs—”
“I didn’t announce anything. Hold on,” she said when her phone blipped with another incoming call. “Sorry,” she said to Casey then, “Yes?”
“Miss Devereaux? This is Shawna Frost of Vermont Today. I understand you’re backing several local charitable organizations. We’d like to interview you—”
Beep.
“I’m sorry. Could you hold please?” She thumbed call incoming. “Al?”
“It’s Chloe. I’m worried Daisy unleashed a monster.”
Rae’s pulse tripped. “What do you mean?”
“I’m not a Hollywood gossip monger, I swear. But I confess to the guilty pleasure of checking in now on omg! or TMZ.”
“What’s on the Net, Chloe?”
“You.”
Rae blinked, swallowed. “Thanks. I’ll be in touch.” She looked at the screen, saw one “on hold” and it wasn’t Al. “Miss Frost? Yes. Thank you for your interest. Crazy morning. I’ll be in touch.” She disconnected then redialed Al. “I lost you before. Sorry. About the news blast … I can explain. That’s a lie. I’ll try to explain. Once I’m clear on what’s happening. Stay tuned. And don’t give my money to anyone without my consent. Not that you would. Sorry. I’m … discombobulated.”
“Advise ASAP, Reagan.”
“Will do.” She turned to Casey. “Apparently I’m in the news. Got a laptop handy?”
Ten seconds later a screen was up and singing the praises of one Reagan Devereaux.
omg!
TMZ
E! Online
“Holy cow,” Casey said.
Rae stared in shock as they tripped upon a few more sites, including a string of mentions on Twitter. The headlines read: TRUST FUND BABY TURNS PHILANTHROPIST!
The articles were short blips. Her father was mentioned. Her mother was mentioned—although not in the most flattering way. Rae’s educational background was applauded and the fact that she was so low-key that she’d been off the media’s radar until now was commended. There was mention of her newly inherited fortune and how she’s devoting her time, money, and effort to worthy causes such as a Vermont-based day care center and a cupcake club that supports troops via cupcakes.
“Talk about coming off as the Mother Theresa of the Me Generation,” Casey said. “Who’s your publicist?’
“I don’t have a publicist. Oh, crap. Maybe I do. May I use your office for a sec?”
“Sure.”
“Be right back.”
Rae moved to the back of the store and instead of calling Daisy direct, opted for a more direct answer from Sam. It would be the first time they’d spoken since he’d learned about her and Luke, but Rae was too focused on this media glitch to worry about the potential awkwardness.
He answered on the first ring.
“Sorry to bother you, Sam.”
“No, bother. What’s up?”
“Daisy sent you a text yesterday, right?”
“About you and your offer to throw your money behind the CL recipe book project. Generous.”
“My pleasure. Except, we’re still under contract with Highlife and it hasn’t been discussed or voted on either way by the club. Nothing is settled, yet word is out.”
“You know the Sugar Creek grapevine.”
“No, I mean, word is out, Sam. In a big way. On major entertainment venues on the Internet. Daisy said she was going to ask you to pick Harper Day’s brain regarding potential publicity opportunities. What did Daisy say exactly and did you share it with Harper? What did she do? Who did she contact? This morning I received a call from a reporter at Vermont Today. Should I brace for Good Morning America? I need to know what to prepare for.”
“Give me time to sort this out. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t sound fine.”
“Just caught off guard. Speaking of.” She ignored her unease, needing to get this out of the way. Wanting to smooth things over with Sam. “I’m sorry I haven’t called before now. I know you were blindsided when Luke told you we were involved and—”
“Do you love him?”
“Yes.”
“Enough said.”
Rae collapsed on the one cushy chair in Casey’s office. Why did she keep blurting that? Before long, Luke would be the only one in town who didn’t know the extent of her feelings. “I haven’t told him yet. I haven’t said the words. I don’t know why I told you, except you asked and I … I don’t want there to be hard feelings between us.”
“No hard feelings,” he said in his ever calm tone. “We can’t choose who we love, Rae. Let me talk to Harper. I’ll get back to you when I have answers.”
“Thank you, Sam.”
Rae disconnected, her mind spinning in a dozen directions when Casey cried out, “Oh my God! Someone wrote about you on Huffington Post!”
TWENTY-SIX
Sam reread Daisy’s text from the day before, slowly, word for word.
Just as he’d feared, he’d screwed up.
The text had been so damn lengthy and convoluted and Sam had been distracted. By Harper. Sex with Harper. Kinky sex with Harper.
The roll in the sheets (and a few other places) had been amazing. The moment after, not so much. Harper and her damned rules. He wasn’t supposed to linger. Conversation pertaining to their sex-a-pade, including the sexting, was off-limits. Considering they had nothing in common, aside from an animal attraction and an appreciation for the Rothwell Farm, Sam had been at a loss for words. In fact he couldn’t seem to grasp one cohesive thought. Celibate for two years, Sam had overdosed on Harper’s uninhibited approach to sex.