The Recipe for Romance

by Lara Van Hulzen

  Any other time he had Annalise to himself she had his rapt attention. However, at the moment, a beautiful dancer named Noelle consumed his thoughts. Noelle. The name fit her. Graceful, feminine. As much as he’d thought about what her name could be, he’d had trouble coming up with anything that fit. But he liked how her named rolled off his tongue, like an uplifting melody.

  He eyed his niece who still jabbered on, unaware of his mind wandering. The little schemer had actually tried to get Noelle to help him learn to bake. When his father first told him he was involved in the Bachelor Bake-Off auction, his head almost came off. He and his father didn’t speak for over a day.

  And he was telling the truth, he hadn’t agreed to anything. Yet. With the possibility of a certain dance teacher helping him, maybe the Bake-Off thing wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

  Chapter Six

  Noelle checked the mirror one more time. There were only so many outfits a woman could come up with in the kind of weather that could chill you to the bone, but her favorite skinny jeans and light blue sweater seemed a good choice.

  “Kind of ho-hum for a first date, don’t you think?” Holly came into Noelle’s room and plopped herself down on the bed.

  Noelle frowned at her in the mirror. “No. It’s my most comfortable sweater and it’s freezing outside.”

  “Comfortable is not the kind of word you want to be using when trying to snag a guy, sister.”

  “I’m not trying to snag a guy, Holly.”

  “You should be.”

  Noelle laughed. It was all she could do when faced with Holly’s way of thinking. It’s not that she didn’t want a guy in her life. She was just fine to wait for the right guy, that’s all. Although she had to admit it did feel like she’d been waiting for him longer than she wanted to.

  “You keep waiting around for Prince Charming but Prince Really Good-Looking And Is Totally Into You may walk right on by. In fact, I believe you danced with him the other night and are meeting him for coffee this morning.” She tapped her lip with her finger, adding the dramatic flair that was all her sister.

  “It’s just coffee. There’s no way for you to know that he’s into me.”

  “Sure there is. I saw how he looked at you when you were dancing. And Jeff told me.” With that, she sprung from the bed and left the room.

  “Wait. What?!” Noelle scooted out of her room after her sister. She found her in the kitchen, pouring herself a mug full of coffee. She moved to the kitchen table, if one could call it that. It was more of a nook table that could fit just two chairs. It worked in the space though. Theirs was a two-bedroom apartment, one bath, with a decent-sized living room, a tiny kitchen, and a space for a table. The one where Holly sat, sipping her coffee.

  “You want some?” She raised her mug to Noelle. “Oh. Right. Coffee date. Sorry.” She sipped again acting as if she hadn’t moments before dropped a gossip bomb in Noelle’s room.

  Noelle claimed the chair across from her sister. “Speak.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t give me that. What did Jeff say?” Although she and her sister were in their late twenties, it wasn’t lost on her that they sounded like junior high girls at the lunch table. She didn’t care.

  Jeff was Wes’s friend that Holly ended up dancing with at Grey’s. The one with the smooth, or not so smooth move that ended up spilling wine on them as a way to ask them to dance. It had worked. Holly and Jeff had gone out twice since then and Noelle was headed to her first date… No. Not a date. Coffee, with Wes.

  Holly shrugged, picking up the newspaper on the table and pretending to look at it. “Nothing, really. Just that Wes was mesmerized by you at Grey’s and the whole bumping into us bit was more for him to meet you than anything else.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Believe it.”

  “Wait. Doesn’t that bother you? I mean, to have Jeff tell you it wasn’t to meet you?”

  “Our third date tonight tells me that I’m completely fine with it. And he did want to meet me. They were in it together. But Wes made himself sound like an innocent bystander. And there’s no innocence there, my dear. He was all in on the clumsy move.”

  Noelle sat back in her chair. If he was so eager to meet her and as Holly pointed out “into her,” then why hadn’t he tried to call her or ask her out?

  “You’re going to hurt yourself one day with your tendency to overthink things.” She laid down the paper and looked at Noelle. “He didn’t contact you because he’s caught up in some big business deal his dad has him working on. Jeff hasn’t even seen or talked to him since that night at Grey’s. But he knew at some point Wes would ask. He comes across as a man who gets what he wants. If he wanted to find out who you are, he’d find out.”

  Noelle had no argument there. In the short period of time she’d spent with Wes St. Claire, it was easy to see he was someone who went after what he wanted. And rarely walked away empty-handed.

  She looked at the clock on the wall. “Crud! I’m running late.” Making Wes wait was probably not something he was used to either. Showing up late made a bad first impression. Noelle shoved her feet in her snow boots, wrapped up in her scarf and coat, and headed out the door, with a wave and “I love you” to her sister as she went.

  *

  Wes St. Claire was not a man used to being stood up. He looked again at his watch and then to the door of the Java Café. Still no Noelle. He’d chosen a table near the back in the corner, giving him the ability to see the entire room as well as offering some privacy for him and Noelle. Wanting to be aware of his surroundings, he didn’t like having his back to a room, and with a small town like Marietta, the less gossip about him and Noelle the better. Not that two people having coffee was much to write home about, but he’d been caught in a rumor mill enough times to know how to avoid it as best as possible.

  The bell above the door jingled. He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding as Noelle walked through the door. Limped was more like it. He was on his feet and by her side in one swift move.

  “What is it?” He put his arm beneath hers and helped her to the chair across from the one he’d just vacated.

  “Ugh. I’m fine. I slipped on the ice like an idiot.” Her attempt to make it sound less than it was fell flat.

  He knelt on his haunches beside her. A hair had strayed from the braid that flowed down her back. Without thinking, he tucked it behind her ear, the gesture causing a surge of heat through him. Her cheeks flushed as she copied his movement, tucking the hair again even though it was unnecessary. It was obvious she was flustered so he stood and took the seat across from her.

  “What do you need?”

  “A hot tea would be nice.” Her smile sent warmth through him as well, but this time as if she’d wrapped a giant blanket around him on a cold day.

  “I was thinking more like ice for your knee, or ankle… I’m not sure what you’ve injured.”

  She waved a hand. “It’s really fine. Tea would be lovely.”

  Her words said she was fine, but her other hand rubbed her right leg as if she’d pulled something. However, Wes knew better than to argue with a woman. Better to take his time, see what he could glean from her over coffee. Or tea, as was the case.

  “Hot tea it is.”

  He ordered her drink and brought it back to her, steam rising from the large orange mug. She wrapped her slim, long fingers around it and breathed in as he claimed his chair once more.

  “I chose a ginger peach tea bag. I hope that’s okay.”

  “It’s perfect.” She smiled at him, her eyes brighter than when she’d first come into the café.

  Yes. Perfect. Of course his thoughts were far from the tea bag and more on the woman across from him.

  “That’s my sister’s favorite tea.”

  “I like her already.” She took a sip and closed her eyes, relishing the moment.

  Wes had seen a lot of women in his life, but none as beautiful as the creature before him. Wi
th little to no makeup, her hair in a loose braid down her back, a blue sweater that brought out the color of her eyes, and skin kissed by the cold air making her rosy-cheeked, she was gorgeous. Like a ray of sunshine on the frigid January day.

  “I apologize for being late. I was looking at the blue of the sky. It’s so beautiful and not quite what I’m used to, and I lost my footing. I slipped on some ice. To be honest, I was running late, but the sky was so perfect, I couldn’t help but…” Her voice trailed off.

  “Please don’t apologize. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “I am. I have some trouble with my leg sometimes and falling aggravated it a bit, but I’ll be fine.”

  Wes couldn’t remember the last time he’d stopped long enough to take in something as simple as the color of the sky.

  “An injury?”

  She tilted her head. “Yes.”

  “What happened?”

  She looked away for a moment as if deciding to tell him the story or not. They hardly knew one another so he couldn’t blame her if she didn’t, but he found himself wanting to know everything he could about her. The women in his world were all makeup and jewelry and perfect hair. They flirted without shame and told him more than he wanted to know most of the time. And yet, with Noelle, he found himself desiring every detail. Maybe that was why. With her there was no facade.

  After another sip of tea, her eyes met his. “I was in a car accident. I broke my leg and dislocated my hip.”

  Before she said anything else, Wes could guess what that meant for her as a dancer.

  “I used to dance ballet in San Francisco. After the accident, my leg healed well, but dancing professionally wasn’t in the cards anymore. I had to…go another way.” She shrugged to play it off as not important but she didn’t hide the truth well. The light in her eyes dimmed as she spoke. The accident took something from her that she loved. He understood all too well. Cancer had done the same for him and his family.

  He ached to pull her to him, hold her close. He took a sip of coffee instead. It was best for now to stay on his side of the table. As intrigued as he was by Noelle, he couldn’t get involved. He was leaving. Going back to New York. Drawn to her or not, he needed to keep things reined in.

  “But I don’t want to talk about me. Tell me more about your being in the Bachelor Bake-Off. Annalise seems pretty excited for you.”

  Her eyes twinkled again, the mug in front of her mouth not hiding her teasing grin as she went to take a sip. Oh man. Reining things in was going to be tough.

  It took a moment for his thoughts to bounce from what she’d told him of her injury, to figuring out his fascination with this woman, to the dread he felt every time he thought of that Bake-Off ordeal his father had volunteered him for. Mike had made no secret of how glad he was Dad threw Wes under the bus instead of him. Merciless teasing by his brother wasn’t making the situation any easier.

  “Oh yes, my dear sweet niece.”

  “Why does she call you Uncle Dubs? And I noticed you call her My Lise, instead of Annalise. It’s cute.”

  “Well, the Dubs nickname came from my brother, Mike, trying to explain to her the double U name for the first letter of my name and I never really thought about what I call her. It just came out one day.”

  “She’s adorable.”

  “She’s a whirlwind. One small child keeps all of us on our toes.”

  “You said you have three siblings. Do they all live here?”

  He leaned forward, his elbows on the table. Unable to remember the last time he’d talked about anything other than work or business, he embraced the easy conversation. “Mike lives here now. He moved here with Annalise after his wife, Anna, died. Lucas moves around and McKenna has a home base in New York but also isn’t one to stay in one place for too long. I’m the only one really left in New York.”

  “So, what brings you to Montana?”

  “We have a family home here. My dad has chosen to make it his permanent home over New York.”

  “And you don’t like that?”

  How could she tell that from what he’d said?

  “Your brow furrowed when you said it. And if I had to guess, you’re more of a New Yorker than someone who sees himself in Montana.”

  “You could say that.” He leaned back in his chair again. Not much rattled him, but her way of reading him so well threw him a bit. “I like it here. I do. But we grew up in New York. It’s what we know.”

  “Change is not for you.”

  It wasn’t a question. “I wouldn’t say that. It was never something for my dad, though, so his decision has been difficult to understand. Anyway, I’m here to visit. The Bake-Off thing was a curve ball he threw at me once I got here.”

  She smiled. “Ah. Wise man.”

  “I wouldn’t say that.”

  Her laughter rang through the air. Wes found himself chuckling as well. Hell if he knew why. Being roped into the bachelor thing by his dad was a nightmare. However, sitting across from Noelle, having her ask him about his family, seeing the situation through her eyes, it was feeling less and less awful by the moment.

  “What brings you to Montana?” She said she didn’t want to talk about herself, but she wasn’t leaving without answering a few of his questions. Fair was fair.

  “My sister Holly and I decided to move here. We needed a new start.” Her eyes wandered again as if deciding on whether to share more.

  Wes waited for her to continue. His mind raced with what she needed to walk away from. An abusive boyfriend? An ex-husband?

  “Our parents died in the same car accident where I was injured.”

  Nothing could have prepared him for that information.

  “After my leg healed, I was struggling to figure out what to do next. My career was over; our world was turned upside down. Holly suggested moving. Opening the dance studio. Holly runs her own graphic design business so she can work from anywhere. We landed here.”

  Wes leaned forward again, the need to be close to her overwhelming him once again. “Noelle and Holly.”

  One corner of her mouth lifted, understanding. “My parents had a thing for Christmas. They got married in December and somehow managed to have both of us girls born in December.”

  A small glimmer of the light in her eyes returned.

  “So are you going to help me learn to bake?”

  Maybe because of a moment of insanity, or simply because he was lost in the blue depths of her eyes, Wes blurted out the question. Funny thing, he didn’t regret it. Questioned it, maybe. But no regret.

  With wide eyes she picked up the mug in front of her again to sip her tea, giving herself a moment to wrap her head around his question and form an answer. Hell, he was struggling to understand himself.

  “Not a baker, are you?” she teased.

  “Nope.” He shook his head. “We’ve had a cook our entire lives.”

  He was used to people reacting to him talk about his life—the spoils of wealth, his father sometimes called it. Noelle didn’t flinch, but rather nodded as if understanding. Or at least accepting his answer for what it was. The truth.

  “I’m no master pie maker. I think you need to know what you’re getting into here. I may be a liability as opposed to an asset.”

  “I highly doubt that.”

  “Your niece has too high an opinion of me.”

  “I highly doubt that as well.”

  She raked her bottom lip with her teeth then pursed her lips into a cute little grin. “All right. You’ve got yourself a teacher.”

  Chapter Seven

  Wes paced the kitchen. He’d checked things a dozen times, maybe more. After their coffee date, he and Noelle agreed to meet at his family’s house to practice the recipe he would make first. His father was happy, although didn’t come across as surprised, when Wes agreed to the Bake-Off. His father handed over the list of things Wes would be making.

  The goal of the event was to raise $25,000 for Harry’s House. Eight bachelors, including W
es, and four judges were involved.

  The first event was cookies. The next one pie, and the final round, cake. He shook his head. What in the world had he gotten himself into? He was more than willing to help raise money for a good cause, but couldn’t his father have just had him write a check? A man who prided himself on being cool and collected under pressure, his heart rate accelerated in his chest over the thought of this whole ordeal. Or maybe it was the woman due to arrive any moment that made his heart flutter in ways it never had before.

  “Get your act together, St. Claire.” He attempted a pep talk to himself as he checked one more time to make sure Glenna had bought all the ingredients necessary for the recipe Noelle had chosen. They’d talked a few times since coffee and when she offered to pick recipes for him to make, he agreed without argument. He didn’t know the first thing about baking. Looking around the kitchen even now gave him a sense of unease. Being in a room he didn’t find himself in often, if ever, caused his confidence to wane, which was by no means an easy feat. The whole situation was messing with his head and he didn’t like it.

  “Stop your pacing and unfurrow your brow, Wesley. Women don’t like a frumpy man.”

  In his mild state of panic, he hadn’t heard Glenna enter the kitchen. Besides his parents, she was the only one who called him Wesley.

  He stopped and leaned his hands on the giant granite center island.

  “Honestly. You look like you’ve been asked to dance the hula in front of thousands of people.”

  “That would be easier than this. I think I’d prefer it. No. I know I would.”

  Glenna laughed. “Maybe. For you, anyway. I’d take baking any day.” She shrugged. “Although I’ve danced the hula quite a bit in my day and that is just as fun.”