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out and get her mind off of the inn for a while. She needed to do something physical. She thought about Dev’s place. He’d told her she could borrow his house tonight, since her stove was on the blink and it was her turn to host Cupcake Lovers. He’d probably tidied up, but her idea of clean differed greatly from both of her brothers’. Men. The kitchen and bathroom could probably use a good scrubbing and she’d vacuum under the furniture. God only knew what lived there—dust bunnies, rogue pretzels. But first she’d stop at Oslow’s and purchase the ingredients for her featured cupcake and the vegetable beef stew she’d promised to make for Dev.
    She was midway to Sugar Creek when she heard an ominous clunking in the engine of her Jeep. Damn. “Whatever’s wrong, please hold out until I get the oven fixed.”
    *   *   *
    Dev blew out of his house at— Christ —8:37 a.m. and nearly barreled into his sister. “What are you doing here?”
    “You said I could borrow your house.”
    “Tonight.”
    “I have to prepare. What are you doing here?”
    “I live here.”
    “But it’s”—she glanced at her watch—“eight thirty.”
    “Eight thirty-eight.”
    “You’re always out of here by six thirty or seven.”
    “I overslept.”
    “You never oversleep.”
    “First time for everything.” Anxious to be on his way, Devlin relieved his sister of three recyclable grocery bags. “Any more in the Jeep?”
    “One more. I’ll get it.”
    He hoofed it back up his porch stairs and whizzed into the kitchen. He dumped the bags on the counter, then turned to hurry back out.
    “You look like shit,” Rocky said with a scrunched brow.
    Compliments of two hours of sleep. “Gee, thanks.”
    “Did you have breakfast?” she asked as she set down the last bag and opened his fridge.
    “I’ll grab something at work.”
    “Meaning a donut and a pot of coffee.” Rocky snorted while pulling out a carton of eggs and half a loaf of bread. “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, you know.”
    “What is it lately with women lecturing me about my eating habits?”
    “Another woman lectured you?” Rocky asked wide eyed. “Who? Tell me. Any woman who tried to advise you must be something special.”
    She was something all right. Devlin was still fuming over his dinner chat with the enigmatic Chloe Madison. Getting her to reveal anything about her past without letting on that he already knew her background, thanks to Jayce, had been impossible. She’d been flustered when Devlin had first approached, which struck him as cute, but then as soon as she’d found out who he was she’d shut down completely. As if she knew he was savvy to her type and she wouldn’t be able to sweet-talk or manipulate him. Monica had made things worse by trying to talk for Chloe, bragging about her culinary diploma, then focusing on their childhood in Indiana. No mention of her life in NYC or the endless school and career shifts or the sugar daddy boyfriend who’d left her high and dry.
    It also bothered Devlin that they’d ordered several dishes and that Chloe barely touched the food. When he’d commented, she’d mumbled something about not being hungry. Why then had she ordered so much to begin with? Had she tasted the food and found it lacking? Was the former food critic, newly degreed chef, that critical of other people’s cooking? Since he’d personally helped Luke interview chefs and since he considered the Sugar Shack’s menu top-notch (as did everyone else), Chloe’s snooty palate irritated the hell out of him.
    “I smell Lysol,” Rocky said, breaking in on his thoughts.
    “I cleaned.”
    She inspected the counters, sink, and floor. “You scrubbed.”
    “You’re having a houseful of women over.”
    “Don’t forget about Sam. He’s an official member of Cupcake Lovers now, so we’re officially coed, so to speak.”
    Their cousin. Sam McCloud. Widowed for two years and opposed to meeting women in bars