Recipe for Kisses

by Michelle Major

  “My ex-husband had business here,” she said on a rush of breath, “so I came for the first time with him. One morning when he was in meetings, I had a cab drop me off near the site of the old Elitch Gardens.” Ben remembered when the amusement park had been located north of the Highlands neighborhood before moving downtown. “My mom had taken a trip out here as a kid and always talked about coming back to visit. I ended up walking most of the neighborhood and stopped at The Toy Chest. Mr. Butterfield was so nice and welcoming. I felt at home, you know?”

  Ben nodded, even as his jaw clenched. The Stan Butterfield he knew was the opposite of welcoming, but he wasn’t going to argue the point now and risk Chloe not finishing her story.

  “I fell in love with the energy of the neighborhood and lost track of time. It was almost dark when I made it back to the hotel. My husband wasn’t happy, and I decided at that moment that I was leaving him.”

  “Because he hit you?” Ben felt his own fingers tighten around the steering wheel.

  “Because I was done letting him hit me.” Chloe’s words were soft, but he heard the steel in her tone.

  He reached for her hand. “I’m—”

  “Don’t say you’re sorry,” she said, squeezing his fingers. “I don’t want pity from anyone. Shame on me for letting it happen, for staying after the first time.”

  “Chloe.”

  She shook her head. “I want to keep my past in the past, Ben. But with whatever this is . . .” One corner of her mouth curved. “You need to know going in that I’m a little . . .” She paused, looked out the window. “Broken.”

  He turned onto a side street just west of the stadium. The neighborhood was as shabby as he remembered, and Ben knew it like the back of his hand. He drove past houses with groups of kids playing in patchy front yards or running down the sidewalk. His car drew a few whistles and catcalls as he slowed at an intersection. He pulled to the curb and waited until she turned to him. “My dad had some problems with alcohol back in the day, and when he got a good drunk going, he and my mom got into it pretty hard. I tried to stay out of it, but my brother was a year younger and Mom’s favorite. He got knocked around a few times when he got between the two of them.”

  Her grip tightened on his hand.

  “She took off when I was thirteen,” he said, lifting his gaze to hers. “There were a few rough years in there before Dad got his shit together. Cory blamed him for driving her away, and he never forgave Harry.” He barked out a rough laugh. “I never forgave her for deserting us.”

  “She never came back or contacted you?”

  He shook his head. “Cory tried to find her for a while, but it’s like she never existed. Dad won’t talk about it, and I just want to forget every shitty thing that happened to us. It’s no accident that I left Denver as soon as I could. I hear you about leaving the past where it belongs. But you need to know that I’m more than a little broken. I’m loud and I’ve got a temper, so I understand if you can’t deal with it. I’d never touch you in anger, Chloe. Not you or any woman.”

  “How do I know I can trust you?” There was a hitch in her breath as she whispered the next words, “I’ve just started to trust myself again.” She stared at her fingers, which played with the fabric of the seatbelt, flipping the edge of the nylon back and forth.

  “Chloe.” He waited until she looked up at him before he said any more. When she did, the uncertainty in her eyes made him want to track down her ex-husband and see how tough the scumball was when facing a man instead of a tiny sprite of a woman. “You can trust me,” he said and placed his hand on top of hers.

  She started to pull away then stopped, lifting her fingers to his cheek. They were cool against his heated skin and he let himself be drawn toward her until their mouths met. He should have been comforting her but instead relaxed under the sweetness of her touch. He wanted her closer, to pull her into his lap, but he understood that he needed to take careful steps with this woman. There was also the problem of the seatbelt cutting across his chest and the console between them and then . . . “Was that your stomach?” He pulled back just enough to look into her eyes.

  “I guess I’m ready for lunch,” she said with a small smile, but didn’t let go of him. Her eyes were shining and bright as she pushed away the hair from his forehead. She didn’t look at him as she whispered, “I can deal with all of you, Ben.”

  His heart swelled at the words and he kissed her again before straightening. She added a complication on top of all the other complications in his life, but he didn’t care. All that mattered right now was how alive he felt with her next to him, how the darkness and anger he’d lived with for so long seemed to fade away when they were together. Her stomach rumbled again. “It’s a good thing you’re hungry,” he said, shifting the car into gear. “Because this food will blow your mind.”

  The food wasn’t the only thing blowing Chloe’s mind. Although it was as good as Ben promised.

  They sat on a dilapidated picnic table next to the brightly painted food truck where they’d ordered sandwiches. The sun was shining, but, thanks to a few passing clouds and a gentle breeze, the temperature was perfect for lunch outdoors. Denver had its share of trendy food trucks around the city, but the white-haired man who owned the place proudly told her he’d had the business for almost twenty years.

  To Chloe’s surprise, the man, Artie, had greeted Ben like a long-lost son then made both of them step up into the trailer to proudly point out the updated deep fryer and cooking surface he’d recently installed. There’d been a line of people waiting to order the melty sandwiches, but Artie had ushered them to a table and promised to bring out something special. That had ended up being one chicken and one steak sandwich, filled with meat, cheese, and onions and slathered in a homemade sauce.

  She’d taken one bite and moaned with pleasure, making both Artie and Ben smile. When she’d thanked the older man for the best lunch she’d had in ages, he’d told her he couldn’t have done it without Ben’s help.

  Ignoring Ben’s suggestion that Artie get back to the customers still waiting, the man had explained to Chloe how a small grease fire a year ago had damaged the interior of the oversize vehicle, but Ben had paid for all of the equipment to be replaced, as well as Artie’s insurance deductible. Ben tried to shrug it off, but Artie clearly believed Ben responsible for the fact that the food truck was still in business.

  “Remember the deal,” Ben said when Artie finally stopped singing his praises. “I get all the recipes after you finally retire.”

  The old man laughed. “I’ll retire when I’m dead.”

  “Leave ’em to me in the will,” Ben shot back.

  “I’ll do that, Benny.” Artie clapped Ben on the shoulder and headed back to the small kitchen.

  “You can’t be finished already,” Ben said, pointing with his sandwich at the half she’d placed on the table. “You only took a few bites.”

  “When was the last time you either saw Artie or ate here?”

  Ben shrugged. “Not since I left for New York when I was eighteen.”

  “How did you know about the fire?”

  “My dad keeps me updated on the neighborhood.”

  “Why did you pay for the repairs?” She sipped her iced tea.

  “I want the dipping sauce and spice recipes,” he answered but didn’t look at her.

  “You could figure it out if you tried.” They were sitting across from each other at the table and she nudged his leg with her foot. “Why?”

  “Like I told you, after my mom split, things were a mess. I felt guilty, like I hadn’t given her enough of a reason to stay. I was angry and it made me stupid.”

  Ben finished the last bite of his sandwich and wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. “That first summer, I was hanging out with a bad group of kids, getting into trouble. We ran by here one day and knocked over Artie’s big garbage can out back. He grabbed me and made me clean up the mess then put me to work. I wasn’t old enough for a real job,
so he’d slip me a few bills at the end of every week. The money didn’t matter as much as having a place to go. I don’t know what made me different from any of those other boys. He’d give me the leftover food at the end of the day.” He wadded up the yellow paper the sandwich had come wrapped in. “Cory and I had grinders for dinner every night for almost three months.”

  “This was your start with food,” she whispered.

  His eyes flicked to hers. “His setup isn’t fancy, but Artie always bought fresh ingredients from the local market. After a while, he let me go with him. The smells and colors of everything . . . yeah, it made an impression. Even when my mom was around, she didn’t spend much time in the kitchen. I learned to cook for Cory and my dad. It was one of the few things I could do to make our house seem normal. Artie had a friend who owned an Italian restaurant about a mile from here. When I turned sixteen, he helped me land a job as a line cook.”

  A small smile played at the corner of his mouth. “My first real kitchen. I busted my ass there, and the owner, an old-school Italian who could have been cast on The Sopranos, still had a lot of friends back in New York. After I graduated from high school, he set me up with one of his buddies in the city and away I went. None of what’s happened to me would have been possible if Artie hadn’t taken a chance on me.”

  “No wonder he’s so proud.” She flipped her sunglasses onto the top of her head and studied him. “Ben Haddox, are you blushing?”

  “Hell, no.” He grabbed her chicken sandwich and took a bite.

  “Hey,” she protested with a laugh. “I’m not done.”

  Still chewing, he held it out to her. She wrapped her fingers around his and leaned forward to bite off an edge then grimaced when sauce dripped down her chin. Hard to make eating look sexy when the food was messy.

  Before she picked up her napkin, Ben ran a finger over her chin then brought it to his mouth. Scratch that. Messy food was sexy as hell. Her chest tightened. Ok, not just her chest. Her nipples pulled taut under her blouse, making her squirm, and from the way Ben’s gaze darkened, he knew it.

  She pressed the napkin to her mouth and stood, stumbling as she slid off the bench. “What time are we meeting the realtor?” she asked.

  He glanced at his watch. “Fifteen minutes in downtown. The first building is two blocks from Union Station. Plenty of time.”

  Grabbing her tea, she gulped it as she made her way to the rubber trash can near the side of the trailer. What she really needed to do was dump the leftover ice over her head and cool herself down. The attraction she understood. The man was too gorgeous for his own good.

  Today he wore a crisp white button-down shirt rolled to his elbows and tailored trousers. She’d guess his shoes cost more than her monthly grocery budget. But it was his complexity that drew her to him. The flashes of kindness and the understanding of what he’d overcome to get where he was. Despite his reputation, he obviously cared deeply for the few people who’d been in his corner from the start.

  She still didn’t understand why opening a restaurant in the space occupied by The Toy Chest was so important to him. Yet she had a feeling there was a reason for it, a deeply personal reason and one that might influence how hard she worked to win their bet.

  Chloe couldn’t afford that. The store was all she had, and she didn’t want to start over somewhere else. She had to remember that at the end of the day Ben was the enemy, although the more time she spent with him the harder that was to believe. Since her marriage to Jonathan ended, Chloe had kept herself walled off emotionally and physically from intimate relationships. Other than Kendall and Sam, no one knew the full extent of her history. Not even the women who worked for her at the store. It hadn’t always been that way, but her desire to be loved and to devote herself to the happiness of the people she cared about had led to bad decisions—both with relationships and life in general.

  She’d shared more with Ben today than she had with any man since her ex-husband. Although Ben warned her about his temper, she believed him when he said he wouldn’t physically hurt her. But Chloe had been so focused on the emotional scars that came from abuse, she’d forgotten about good old-fashioned heartbreak. If she wasn’t careful, Ben might be dangerous to her in a whole different way than her ex-husband.

  She took a deep breath and shook off those ugly thoughts. She’d spent too long hiding out, and it felt good to be out with a man. With this man. The important thing was to remember that this was temporary. Either way, at the end of the month, things between them would be over. It would give her a way to dip her toes back in the water of relationships. As long as she remembered not to dive in head—or heart—first.

  Ben finished off the last of her sandwich, waved to Artie, and they headed back toward the car.

  When they got closer, he took her hand and pressed the keys to her palm. Anticipation revved in her for an entirely different reason as she grinned up at him. “You trust me to drive?”

  He closed his eyes, took an exaggerated breath, and nodded. “Be gentle with her.”

  Without giving him a chance to change his mind, Chloe rushed to the driver’s side. She’d heard the expression “purred to life” before and now she understood because that’s exactly what the engine did when she pushed the button to start the car. She ran one hand along the dashboard as she adjusted the seat so she could better reach the gas pedal. “Hi, baby,” she whispered. “You and I are going to be fast friends.”

  “Not too fast,” Ben said as he climbed in next to her.

  “You trust me,” she reminded him and threw the car into reverse. It took a minute to get used to how the car handled, but once she did, adrenaline raced. She wished she were on the interstate but still had fun maneuvering such a responsive car through the city streets.

  A few blocks later she stopped at a red light, glancing at Ben from the corner of her eye. “How’d I do?”

  “Where did you learn to handle a car like that? Is your father a NASCAR driver?”

  She smiled at the surprise and appreciation in his tone. “My dad died when I was a baby, but we’d visit my mom’s family in Nebraska every summer. My uncle fixed up old muscle cars as a hobby, and he taught me to drive out on the dirt roads and county highways the summer I turned sixteen. He made sure I wouldn’t drive like a girl.”

  “I need to thank him,” Ben said, his voice rough. “Because that was hot.”

  She smiled at the flirtation, but a little of her excitement dimmed at the thought of her extended family. “I haven’t seen him since Mom died a few years ago.”

  “Was she still alive when you got married?” he asked softly.

  The light turned green and she hit the gas pedal harder than she meant to then slammed on the brakes when the car lurched forward. “Sorry,” she whispered and took off again at a steadier pace. “We were married by the hospital chaplain a week before she died. She had pancreatic cancer and it had spread by the time they found it. She was in and out of the hospital for a few months and eventually we brought in hospice. Jonathan was her oncologist.”

  “It was a whirlwind courtship.”

  “More like heavy-duty matchmaking on my mother’s part. It made her happy to think my future was secure. As much as she loved me, she never believed I could make it on my own. In turn, I didn’t either. It made both of us an easy target for a man like my ex-husband. He played the part of a white knight perfectly—right down to his lab coat. I didn’t notice what was under the surface until it was too late and I was left alone with him.”

  “Do you have brothers or sisters?”

  She shook her head, easing into a turn as she headed toward downtown. “It was just the two of us. What’s the address?”

  Ben glanced at his phone then gave her the street and building number.

  “Is this the first location you’ve looked at other than the toy store?”

  “It is, and you’re changing the subject.”

  “Do you want to tell me why my store is the space you must
have for your restaurant?”

  His shoulders stiffened. “Are you a baseball fan?” he asked, ignoring her question. “My dad loves setting people up with Rockies tickets.”

  She found a place to park around the corner from the building and opened the door to climb out. “I guess both of us want to keep our pasts behind us,” she said over her shoulder.

  He grinned at her as he came around the front of the car. “We’re quite a pair.” His tone was so sweet she couldn’t help but return his smile.

  Chloe had forgotten how much she liked being part of a pair until she’d met Ben. “Promise you’ll keep an open mind,” she told him as she handed him back the keys.

  “My mind’s open to all kinds of arrangements involving the two of us,” he answered, pulling her closer for a kiss. It was still gentle and controlled, and while Chloe appreciated him taking things slowly, her body craved more.

  Her flight instinct was strong, but being held by Ben felt good enough to tamp down the fear that usually rose in her chest, hot and suffocating. She wrapped her arms around his neck, nipping at his bottom lip and exploring his mouth with her tongue when he let out a surprised gasp. He recovered in an instant, threading his fingers through her hair.

  They stayed like that for minutes that felt like hours, until Chloe heard a throat clear nearby.

  “Um, Mr. Haddox?” The voice was deep and more than a little amused. “I’m Mark Chevers, the realtor.”

  Chloe tried to pull away, embarrassment washing over her. She’d just been caught in a PDA. Maybe Ben was used to that, but it was a first for her. He held her against him, strong but not forceful, and looked over his shoulder at the realtor. “Give us a minute. We’ll meet you inside.”

  “Of course,” the man said and disappeared past them.

  “I can’t go in there now,” Chloe said, wrenching away when they were alone. She glanced both ways down the street. “Do you think anyone else saw us?”

  Ben reached out to straighten her clothes. “Who cares?” he said, skimming his fingers under the loose hem of the cotton shirt.