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or via dating services. Sam had assured his brother, Max, and his various male cousins that he’d joined Cupcake Lovers in order to cozy up to one of its members, Rachel Lacey, but that had been six months ago and Sam had yet to ask Rachel out. Meanwhile, he’d developed a troubling fondness for baking as well as a curious addiction to cable cooking shows.
    “I don’t want anyone, including Sam, gossiping about the state of my house and how it would benefit from the touch of a lady.”
    “The owner would benefit from a lady’s touch, too.”
    “Don’t start on that.” The only woman who interested him just now was Chloe Madison, and no way in hell was he going to pursue that physical attraction—not knowing what he did about her fickle tendencies and questionable morals. Maybe she wasn’t an outright gold digger, but she had no problem taking advantage of rich men. Not to mention her expunged record (Jayce had yet to supply details) and her penchant for bailing when things got tough or boring. Daisy had hired her for a three-month stint. Devlin would be surprised if Chloe lasted three weeks.
    “We don’t gossip.” Rocky cracked six eggs into a bowl in rapid succession. “We discuss our lives—”
    “And the lives of everyone else in Sugar Creek.”
    “—share cupcake recipes and thoughts on how we can benefit soldiers abroad and charities on the home front.”
    “You don’t have to sell me on the club.” The Monroe women had been involved in Cupcake Lovers since its conception in 1942. What had started off as a purely social gathering, a specified place and time to commiserate with other women whose husbands or sons were away fighting in WW II, had eventually evolved into a group of women shipping their cupcakes to soldiers overseas as well as organizing local charitable events. He supported the efforts of Cupcake Lovers 100 percent. That said, growing up he’d been privy to occasional meetings at his mom’s and grandma’s houses and the members of the club absolutely indulged in gossip. “Just saying, the club talks about more than cupcakes.”
    “Since we meet once a week every week, it would be sort of boring if we didn’t.” Rocky snagged a frying pan from his oven drawer and clanged it to the gleaming stovetop. “What do you want? Omelet or scrambled?”
    He glanced at his watch. “The store opens in five.”
    “The store will open with or without you, Dev. Hate to break it to you, but you and Dad trained your people well. J.T.’s is a well-oiled machine. Sit. Eat. I need to talk to you.”
    Something in her voice. No, her energy. When stressed, Rocky tended to move at an accelerated pace. He’d been so wrapped up in his own thoughts, he hadn’t noticed until now. “What’s wrong?”
    “Nothing’s wrong.” She tossed four pieces of bread into the toaster oven and whizzed back to the skillet, beating the eggs with ruthless determination.
    “Guess we’re having scrambled.” He parked on the edge of a stool. “What do you want to talk about?”
    “Chloe Madison.”
    “What about her?”
    “Luke called me last night. Said Chloe stopped in for dinner with Monica and that they appeared to be having a fine time.” She frowned. “Until you joined them.”
    “Just wanted to meet the woman, the stranger, who’ll be living with our grandmother.”
    “You interrogated her.”
    “I tried to get to know her.”
    “You made her nervous.”
    “How would Luke know? He was across the room, behind the bar.”
    “Monica told him, just before they left, just after Chloe slipped into the powder room. She said, and I quote, ‘ Your brother is an ass. ’” Rocky wrenched open the pantry and cursed. “You’re out of coffee filters.”
    “Use a paper towel.”
    She looked to the empty holder and raised one brow.
    “Must have used them all when I cleaned.”
    “Never mind. I brought Earl Grey for tonight.” She rooted through her stash and snagged a box of tea bags.
    Devlin passed her