Recipe for Kisses

by Michelle Major

  “I’m fine.”

  “Sorry, sweetheart.” Harry threw his arms around her and planted a wet kiss on her cheek.

  “Dad, what the hell?”

  “Do you know what this ball is?” Harry asked, holding it up in front of Ben’s face. “It’s part of Stan’s prized collection. He guarded those damn balls like . . . well, you know, Benny.”

  “There’s more stuff in the box,” Chloe offered then noticed that Ben had gone rigid. “If you want to come take a look.”

  “No,” Ben growled at the same time Harry shouted, “Hell, yes.”

  “Butterfield would roll over in his grave,” Harry said with a wink, “to know part of his prized collection now belonged to a Haddox. You’ve made my night, Chloe.”

  “Dad, don’t be an ass.”

  “As if Stan wasn’t,” Harry shot back.

  Ben shook his head. “Not to Chloe.”

  The two men squared off, neither giving an inch as they glared at each other.

  “There’s something I’m missing,” Chloe whispered into the tense silence. If Harry had known Stan Butterfield, Ben probably did, too. Whatever the reason he wanted the toy store location, this confirmed her suspicion that it was personal.

  Harry lifted his hands then turned his attention to her. “I’ve already said more than Ben would want me to, but thank you for the gift.” He flashed a wide grin. “I’m going to show it to Zach. That boy doesn’t appreciate America’s pastime half as much as he should. Despite my best efforts, neither of my sons is a baseball fan.”

  He trotted off down the hall, leaving Chloe and Ben alone in the front entrance. She couldn’t see much of the house from where she stood—a staircase leading up to the second floor and a darkened living room to one side of the hall. While many of the houses around the neighborhood had been updated in the past few years, the ones on this block remained a bit shabby around the edges. She guessed there were hardwood floors original to the house under the well-worn beige carpet, and the architectural details of the house would come into focus if the wall color was freshened, but in a way she liked stepping back in time.

  It reminded Chloe of her mother and the lace doilies and old-fashioned tchotchkes that had decorated their small apartment when she was a girl. The overflowing coatrack and stacks of newspapers on the floor under it gave the house a homey feel that appealed to her, yet it was hard to imagine Ben being happy here. Based on his choice in vehicle, clothing, and watches, he liked things modern and expensive. This house was neither, and she guessed the childhood memories of the home did little to welcome him back.

  “Did I mess up with the baseball?” she asked, making her voice light.

  Ben had tipped his head up, staring at the ceiling, and she could almost see him silently reining in his reaction to his father’s comment. “You made his whole fucking night,” he said after a moment. The words were soft, but she flinched at the anger in them.

  “But ruined yours?”

  “I loved playing ball with my dad in the backyard, but Harry’s relationship with baseball is complicated.” He ran a hand over his face, as if he could wipe away any emotions the memories brought to the surface. “He started working at Mile High as soon as the Rockies came to town then moved to Coors Field when it opened. There was almost always a pit stop on the way home—for a drink or twelve after his shift. The area wasn’t as gentrified as it is now, but Mom would send me down to retrieve him. Those streets in LoDo scared the crap out of me when I was a kid.”

  “You’d walk a couple miles downtown when you were a boy?”

  He nodded. “Eight or nine.”

  “Oh, Ben.” The thought of a boy younger than Zach being sent out on his own late at night and saddled with that kind of responsibility made her heart ache. She reached for him, threaded her arms around his waist, and pulled him close. She pressed her cheek against his chest, felt his heart beating like crazy under the dark green T-shirt he wore. He let her hold him but didn’t hug her back. He was like warm concrete against her. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t know.”

  “Of course not,” he said in a hoarse voice. “It was a nice thing to do, and he loves it.”

  She waited a moment then said, “It’s not just because he likes baseball. It has something to do with it being Stan Butterfield’s baseball.” He shifted, but she didn’t let go. “Are you going to tell me why?”

  “No.”

  She lifted the hem of his T-shirt, smoothed her hands up his back.

  “Are you trying to make me change my mind?” he said with a rough laugh.

  “I want to make you feel better.”

  He took a shuddering breath and scooped her up, burying his face in the crook of her neck. “God, you smell so good.”

  “I doubt that.” She wiggled as his nose tickled the sensitive skin below her ear. “I rode my bike over here and it didn’t cool down as much as I expected tonight. I probably smell like sweat.”

  “You smell sweet,” he whispered then ran his tongue along the column of her throat. “And you taste better.”

  She could so easily lose herself in this man, in the moment. When he touched her it was easy to forget the bet, her past and his, and the fact that there were so many things she didn’t know about him. All that mattered was how he made her feel. Alive and desired in a way she hadn’t been before. “Speaking of taste, you invited me for dinner.”

  He chuckled, the vibration skimming along her heated skin. “You with the appetite.”

  She blushed, thinking that food wasn’t what she was craving at all. But his family was waiting, so Chloe forced herself to step away. “I’m sorry I made this evening tough on you.”

  He leaned forward and dropped a tender kiss on her mouth. “You also made it better.”

  She smiled. “Then mission accomplished. Now it’s your turn. I’m ready to be impressed.”

  At that he swallowed, looking almost nervous. “Like I said, it’s a casual dinner and the options are limited with Zach.”

  “I’m joking, Ben.” She followed him down the hall. “Mostly I heat up soup or spaghetti for myself. Whatever you serve is better than anything I could make.” As they came into the kitchen, she saw Abby bent over a laptop at the Formica table, her back toward them. She wore colorful headphones and so didn’t turn at their entrance.

  “Working on your website and social media presence,” Ben explained, pointing to his niece. “It’s become her mission to make sure this is the most profitable month in the history of the shop.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said automatically.

  “You shouldn’t be,” he answered with a wry smile. “I like a good figh—” He paused, took a breath. “Competition.”

  It was easy to return his grin. “Then let the best woman win.”

  At that he laughed so loudly that Abby spun around in her chair. Her eyes softened when she saw Chloe. “Hey, I’ve linked the website to your social media accounts and posted the new specials you told me about on all the Denver parenting websites I could find.”

  “You two plot my demise,” Ben said with a wink. “I’m going to check on the food.”

  Chloe stepped closer to the table. “What you’re doing for the store is amazing, Abby, but I don’t want it to take up all of your time.”

  The girl shrugged, pulling the headphones from around her neck and setting them on the table. “I don’t mind. It’s summer so I’ve got plenty.”

  “Less if you’d actually do any of the chores I give you.” They both turned to see Ben pointing to the trash can.

  “Cory never made me do work around the house.”

  “He should have,” Ben countered.

  Chloe held up a hand before the two of them could really start in on each other. “Chores first,” she told Abby. “But take some time for your friends, too.”

  Abby closed the computer. “I don’t see many people over the summer.”

  “Aren’t there kids around the neighborhood?”


  “I don’t know any of them. My school’s on the other side of town.”

  “You don’t attend East?” Chloe asked, referring to the neighborhood high school.

  The girl shook her head. “I go to Summit Hills Day School. Zach and I both do.” She pointed at Ben. “He pays for it.”

  Chloe recognized the name of the most exclusive high school in the city. A few of her wealthier customers sent their kids there. It was nestled in the exclusive enclave of Cherry Hills in south Denver. She didn’t know what tuition ran per year, but it gave her another insight into just how rich Ben must be to pay for both Abby and Zach’s education.

  Ben kept his attention trained on whatever he was stirring in the bowl on the sink. “It’s not the biggest hardship you’ve ever faced. Where do you think all that techie training came from?”

  “I hate wearing a uniform every day.” Abby picked at the tattered edge of her denim shorts. “And the girls there are bitches.”

  “Language,” Chloe said.

  “I told you,” Ben yelled, now chopping a ripe tomato, “that once we figure out where we’re going to live for good, you can look at the district high school.”

  “Volume,” Chloe called to him, exchanging an eye roll with Abby. She was quickly realizing that Ben didn’t even notice when his voice rose. “You won’t stay in the Highlands neighborhood?”

  He shrugged one big shoulder. “I haven’t thought that far ahead, but I’m not going to be in this crap shack indefinitely.”

  “This is the nicest house we’ve ever lived in,” Abby said with a sniff. She picked up her laptop and tucked it under one arm. “Maybe you should leave all us crap behind. It’s what you want, anyway.”

  “That isn’t true and it’s not what I said.” Ben turned and stalked forward, still gripping the knife.

  “Don’t point a knife at me,” Abby shouted.

  Ben dropped it to the counter immediately. “Abby—”

  “Zach and I don’t need you.” She wiped at her cheeks with the back of a hand. “I can take care of him. It’s what I’ve always done. I’m the one he needs.”

  Ben threw a helpless glance at Chloe.

  She put a gentle arm on the girl’s shoulder. To her surprise, Abby leaned into the embrace instead of pulling away. “Your uncle knows how important you and Zach are to each other.”

  “He’s not my uncle,” Abby mumbled with a sniff. “I’m not even a real part of this family.”

  That’s what this outburst was about. Chloe gave Ben a pointed look, hoping he’d understand what she was trying to tell him.

  He gripped the edge of the counter, and from the set of his jaw Chloe knew this was the last conversation he wanted to have. “Of course you’re a real fucking part of this family,” he yelled.

  “Language and volume,” Chloe ground out but saw one side of Abby’s mouth curve.

  Ben returned the girl’s small smile, and Chloe realized that in his own way he’d managed to lighten the mood and the tension. His voice was softer as he continued. “You’re as much my niece as Zach is my nephew, Abby. Not because you take care of him or he needs you. You just are. I’m no prize and neither is Harry, but you’re stuck with us for the long haul.” He was standing in front of them now and tipped up Abby’s chin. “Are we square on that?”

  She nodded. “Summit isn’t that bad, I guess. They have a sushi bar on Fridays.”

  “Seriously?” Ben asked. “In a school cafeteria? What happened to tater tots and mystery meat?”

  Abby made a face. “Disgusting.” She glanced around his shoulder. “Do you need any help with dinner?” she asked, almost shyly.

  Ben’s mouth dropped open before he snapped it shut. “Sure. It’s almost ready, but you can whisk the vinaigrette for the salad.”

  “I’ll see what Harry and Zach are up to out back,” Chloe said quickly, feeling another wave of affection for this big, bumbling brute of a man who was trying so hard to make his family whole again.

  “About fifteen minutes until dinner is served,” Ben said, offering her a grateful smile that warmed her heart even more.

  She headed for the back door off the kitchen as Abby placed her laptop on the counter and moved next to Ben. Watching him with the girl made it even harder for Chloe to remember why he wasn’t the right man for her.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “Did you always want to own a toy store?” Harry asked around a mouthful of food.

  “Gross,” Abby muttered. “Don’t talk with your mouth full.”

  “Then how am I supposed to carry on a conversation?” Harry shot back and opened his mouth wide to display the half-chewed food inside.

  Abby groaned while Zach dissolved into a fit of giggles.

  Ben shook his head and Chloe couldn’t help but laugh. His family was loud, boisterous, and often brash. She loved being a part of all the commotion, although normally it would make her nervous. For so long her life had been quiet and contained, especially after her divorce, when keeping control of her world had been the most important thing on her priority list. Now she realized how much it had cost her to keep up all of her walls for so long. She was ready to let some of them down.

  “Not until I walked into The Toy Chest,” she told Harry. “I had no background in retail.”

  “Definitely none in e-commerce or marketing,” Abby added.

  Ben shot his niece a glare that she gleefully returned.

  “Don’t you two start at each other again because of me.” Chloe took a sip of her beer. “Abby’s right.” She kept her gaze on Harry. It was easier to concentrate her attention on him than think of how much she was revealing to Ben with this conversation. “I was a social worker in Chicago.”

  “Like you took kids out of their homes?” Zach asked, his face going pale. “A social worker came to see us after Dad got arrested. She had really red hair.”

  Chloe made her smile gentle. “No, I worked in a small private practice. That means I met with families who needed a little extra help in life.”

  Zach stabbed at a sweet potato fry. He’d almost cleared his plate, and Chloe had noticed Ben watching with obvious pride several times during the meal as the boy took bites. “Maybe we should get a social worker.”

  Ben and Abby spoke at once. “We don’t need help.”

  Zach rolled his eyes.

  “Besides,” Harry added, “we’ve got Chloe now.”

  That comment gave her a start. She’d walked away from her career after getting married, partly because of the shame of allowing herself to be bullied and manipulated by her husband.

  How was she supposed to help anyone else when she was stuck in such a dysfunctional relationship herself? Yes, she informally counseled the women who worked for her, but that almost felt like penance for failing so miserably at her own life. She’d loved her career in social work but had made that a part of her past when she came to Denver.

  “I think the four of you don’t give yourselves enough credit,” she announced to the table.

  “At least we all agree that Ben is the one with the most problems,” Harry told her.

  “Excuse me?” Ben dropped his fork to the table while Abby snickered. “I’m the one with problems?”

  “His cooking is getting better, anyway.” Zach dipped another fry into the aioli sauce.

  Chloe laughed at the look of pure disbelief that crossed Ben’s face. “Your uncle is famous for his cooking,” she told Zach. “I’m sure everything he makes is fantastic.”

  Zach shook his head. “No way. He tried to get us to eat fish balls with soggy lettuce.”

  “It had the texture of cooked snot.” Abby shuddered. “It was like we were eating somebody’s leftover boogers.”

  “It was seared scallops and wilted kale,” Ben roared as Harry and Zach nodded their agreement with Abby’s assessment. “That dish is one of La Lune’s signature menu items. It’s been recommended in every food critic’s review of the restaurant.”

  “It still sucked,” Zach
said.

  “Language,” Ben, Harry, and Abby said at once.

  “You three say way worse words than suck.” Zach looked at Chloe. “They say bad words all the time. We need help.”

  She tried not to smile at the boy’s angelic face and mischievous eyes. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “But not with the food if you keep cooking like this.” Abby speared a piece of chicken. “It actually beats Pop-Tarts.”

  Harry nodded. “For the first time, I see why people think you’re such a big deal in the kitchen, Benny. This is the best chicken potpie I’ve ever had. Way better than that complicated crap with the ingredients I can’t name that you usually try to feed us.”

  “I can’t believe it.” Ben ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m glad everyone is willing to actually eat something that doesn’t come from a box and have a two-year shelf life, but anyone can make a potpie.”

  “Not like this,” Chloe added. It was true. In addition to the tender chunks of chicken, the dish had caramelized onions and fresh spinach encased in a flaky crust with just a hint of nuts.

  “You too?” Ben asked, a vein throbbing on the side of his forehead. “I’ve worked for years in some of the most prestigious kitchens in the world.” He was yelling again, but it didn’t bother Chloe at the moment. It was all volume, no heat. She knew he was glad to have made his family happy with this meal, even if he didn’t understand why. It was almost like shouting was easier for him than dealing with the real emotion of how it made him feel to bring his family together around the table. “This is food someone’s mother could cook.”

  Harry barked out a laugh at that. “This is not your mama’s cooking, Ben, and you know it.”

  “Not ours either,” Abby added.

  Ben looked at Chloe. “Or mine,” she confirmed. “I loved my mom very much, but she was more the macaroni-and-cheese-type chef.”

  “Did you have the kind from the blue box?” Zach asked her. “That’s my favorite.” He glanced at Ben. “Could you make mac ’n’ cheese better than that?”

  “Yes. I. Could.”

  “Awesome.” Zach nodded, as if making a decision in his mind. “I guess I could try more of what you cook if it’s good like this. Can I be excused?”