Recipe for Kisses

by Michelle Major

  Ben gave a curt nod. “Take your plate to the sink.”

  The boy did, and Abby stood as well. She looked at Ben and, for the first time, Chloe didn’t see an ounce of teenage snark in her eyes. “One time Zach ate nothing but bagels and peanut butter for a month. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner for four weeks. Mom didn’t even notice, but I figured he was going to get some kind of weird bad nutrition disease. It was all I could do to get him to take the chewy vitamins every day.”

  “You shouldn’t have to worry about what he eats,” Ben said through clenched teeth. “It’s not your responsibility.”

  Abby rolled her big eyes. “My point is it’s a big deal he’s willing to eat real food, Ben. I know you want us to like all your fancy stuff, but this is way better.” She didn’t wait for an answer but picked up her plate and glass, placed them in the sink, then followed Zach out of the kitchen.

  “That girl is wise beyond her years,” Harry said, rocking back in his chair. “She gets it from me.”

  “She’s not related to you,” Ben answered.

  “She’s still right.” His father stood. “I’m going to catch the last couple innings of the game. I’m happy to clean up the kitchen if you leave everything.”

  This seemed to shock Ben more than anything else. “You never offer to help.”

  “You cook, I clean,” Harry said, as if it were the most natural setup in the world. “We’re a team here, Benny. I’ve grown up enough to do my part. I would have done more for Cory if he’d let me, you know?”

  “I know, Dad,” Ben said softly.

  Chloe watched the two men, knowing she could add nothing to whatever this moment was between them. After a few long beats, Harry nodded, as if their silent conversation was officially over. He took his plate to the counter then headed for the door that led to the backyard.

  “I bet this dinner makes you grateful the DVR is still waiting at your house,” Ben said, standing abruptly from the table but not meeting her gaze. “We’ve got so many issues, there isn’t a topic of conversation we can’t turn toxic.”

  He stalked to the sink and flipped on the water, porcelain clattering as he loaded the dishwasher like the appliance had wronged him in some way. It felt like a dismissal, and Chloe wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do next. That had always been part of her problem, letting life happen to her. In her own way, she was as uncomfortable as Ben with deep emotions.

  While he responded with his temper, her fallback was just to slink away, retreat deeper into her private shell. Her mother had taught her that, to hide away instead of facing trouble. Judy Daniels’ life had been ruled by fear, mostly the worry of a single mother. She didn’t want to risk losing her job or the apartment they could afford, so she’d been a doormat to the people in her life and had inadvertently taught Chloe to do the same thing.

  It was tempting to slip out of the house now and pedal back to her quiet home. But she didn’t want to just yet. It wasn’t about this family needing her, although Zach was right that they could use some help coping with what the kids had been through. She stood slowly and cleared the rest of the table, stacking everything on the edge of the counter. By this time, Ben had given the plates and glasses a reprieve. He stood gripping the edge of the stainless steel sink, steam rising around him from the water still pouring from the faucet.

  Her desire to touch him outweighed her fear of reaching for someone so obviously filled with anger and frustration. She placed her fingers on his T-shirt, the lightest weight on his back. She prepared herself for whatever response it would elicit, him whirling or jerking away or shouting at her to leave him alone.

  The muscles twitched under her hand, but otherwise he remained a living statue. She drew closer until the front of her was pressed to the back of him. She reached forward with one hand and shut off the faucet then wrapped both her arms around his waist and rested her cheek against his spine.

  After a minute of standing silent together, she felt his head slump forward. “I’m fucking lost here,” he whispered, but instead of anger, his tone was filled with misery. “Nothing that I’ve worked for, all the things that make me a success, mean a damn to them. Where does that leave me?”

  She lifted his arm and slipped under it, easy enough with his height advantage, but she knew she was only able to move him because he let her. With her back to the sink, she looked up at him. His eyes were dark, intense and distressed in a way that spoke to her hidden fears. “It leaves you here, in this kitchen, this house, and this town. It leaves you trying, Ben, which counts for more than you could imagine with both of those kids. Even if none of you realize it yet.”

  He blew out a breath, lifted his hand, and wound one of her curls around his fingers. “What if I can’t make it right?”

  “You don’t have to make it right,” she told him and he quirked a brow.

  “Is that your experience as a social worker or a toy-store owner talking?”

  “Both,” she acknowledged. “You heard Abby. Zach is eating real food, probably for the first time in his life.”

  “I bought a pineapple at the grocery last week. He’d never seen one that wasn’t already chopped before.”

  “You’d be shocked at how little fresh food kids have access to, especially ones with backgrounds like Abby and Zach.”

  “I shouldn’t be shocked. It’s how I grew up.” He squeezed shut his eyes. “It shouldn’t have been that way for them. If I’d intervened before things got this bad . . .”

  “You came when they needed you. That’s important. You’re important to them.”

  “Thank you,” he said softly. “Sometimes I feel like I’m climbing a mountain and the summit keeps getting farther away.”

  “Baby steps,” she whispered. “That’s what all of you need.”

  But what Chloe found to be a bigger revelation was that she needed them. Somehow the healing of this family was tied to her own, as was the future of the toy store and the women who worked there.

  “I’m going to trust your professional judgment, Ms. Toy-Store Owner slash Social Worker. Sometime you’re going to tell me the details of who you were before Denver, right?”

  Someone I don’t ever want to be again, she thought to herself. “I’ll tell you about me when you figure out who you’re going to become now that you’re in Denver.”

  “Apparently I’m going to be someone who cooks family dinners.” His mouth kicked up a notch. “That’s a first, but I like it. It’s a challenge to figure out recipes with ingredients that bore the hell out of me but that Zach will eat. The people who worked for me in Vegas and on the show would have a field day with that.” He threw a look over his shoulder. “They wouldn’t believe any of this. I swear this kitchen hasn’t been updated since the seventies. If you knew what I was used to . . .”

  “That doesn’t matter to Zach and Abby,” Chloe reminded him. “Kids have different standards than food snobs. I can’t speak to your gourmet snot recipe, but tonight’s dinner was some of the best food I’ve ever had.”

  “Do you know how long and hard I worked for my success?” He huffed out a laugh as he spoke the words.

  She leaned over his arm and scooped her finger in the sauce left over from the chicken. “I know it was worth it if you learned how to make something this delicious.” She licked her finger without thinking about it then stilled at the look of raw desire he gave her.

  “You made a noise.”

  “What noise?”

  He flashed a sexy grin. “A food noise. When you took a bite. You did the same thing at dinner. Little moans and sighs. Because it was that good.”

  Embarrassment flooded her, and she tried to step away, but his hands clamped down on the counter on either side of her.

  “Did not,” she mumbled. “I think your ego is making you hear things. Dinner was amazing, but I didn’t make noises.”

  His smile widened. “Did so. Like this,” he said and pressed his lips to her ear, sucking the lobe into his mouth.

&
nbsp; She kept her mouth shut, but even with her teeth clamped together a sound erupted in her throat that wanted to be a moan.

  “I bet you make sex noises, too,” he whispered against her skin.

  She jerked back, arching over the edge of the counter, and glared at him. “Rude of you to comment on my noises—food or bedroom or whatever.” She pushed at his chest, but now he didn’t budge.

  “Bedroom or shower or pressed up against the wall.” The deep timbre of his voice did wicked, hot, melty things to her insides. “They’re sex noises because I want you way more places than just on a bed, Chloe.”

  She bit down on her lip as tremors rippled through her at those words. Ben’s gaze flared in response. “We’re talking about food,” she said, trying to keep her mind on anything but how much she wanted to attach herself to this man like a barnacle.

  “Food and sex.” He inched his hands closer to her sides, his thumbs hooking into the waistband of her jeans. “My two favorite subjects.”

  She tipped up her face as his mouth lowered. But just as his lips grazed hers, a loud curse and crash came from the backyard. Chloe jumped, the top of her head banging against Ben’s chin.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled, feeling like an idiot. First she shot him with mace and now tried to break his jaw. No wonder her only standing date was with her television. She couldn’t be normal with a man even when she tried.

  Ben stepped away, rubbing his chin. “Rockies must have lost.”

  She started to turn away, but he caught her again, crouching so that they were at eye level. “A bump on the chin doesn’t make me want you less.” He gave a strangled laugh. “Hell, I wish something could make me want you less. I feel like I could die from it.”

  “Really?” She felt a smile tug the edge of her lips.

  “You have no idea.”

  “Maybe you should walk me home tonight,” she suggested before she could think better of it. “If you want to . . .”

  He tugged her away from the counter. “Let’s leave now.”

  She laughed, digging in her heels. “Your dad will wonder where we went.”

  “He’ll guess.”

  “That’s worse.”

  “Nothing’s worse,” he said, wrapping his arms around her, “than how much I need you and not being able to have you.” He lifted her, and his kiss was no longer gentle. It was hot, demanding, and promised so much more than Chloe had imagined.

  “Delayed gratification,” she said as she broke the kiss. “Right now, we’re cleaning the kitchen.”

  He looked at her like she was crazy, and maybe she was. But this feeling, the anticipation of what was to come, was new for her. It was meant to be savored like the first bite of a delicious meal. She wanted to go slow so she could notice every nuance of it. This might be the only time she’d experience a man like Ben Haddox, and she wasn’t going to waste any part of the moment.

  Darkness had fallen by the time Ben and Chloe headed toward her house. True to his word, Harry had come into the kitchen after the baseball game to help clean. Both Abby and Zach wandered in and, to everyone’s surprise, Abby had suggested they play a game of baseball in the backyard. One of the few purely happy memories Ben had from childhood was the hours his dad spent pitching a baseball to Cory and him.

  Apparently his brother had done the same thing because both Abby and Zach had great form. Chloe tried to refuse, but Harry demanded she be on his team with Zach. When she finally connected bat with ball and rounded the bases, her excitement had been contagious. As awkward as so many moments with his family had been, a summer evening playing ball felt weirdly normal and right.

  “You missed that ball on purpose,” Chloe said, giving his fingers a squeeze.

  They held hands as they strolled along the sidewalk. He balanced her bike with his other hand and listened to the click of the wheels as he walked it.

  “You earned the home run, Chloe. I’m a competitor. Why would I let you win?”

  “Because you’re a nicer guy than you want anyone to realize,” she answered simply.

  He laughed. “You might be the only person in America who thinks I’m a nice guy.”

  “Then maybe I’m the only one who really knows you.”

  The thought wasn’t as scary as he would have expected. “I’m still the loud-mouth jerk who’s going to shut down your store. Don’t forget that.”

  As soon as the words were out, he waited for her to pull away. He wasn’t sure why he’d reminded her, except that if this night was going to lead where he wanted it to, he needed Chloe to have her eyes wide open as to the man he was.

  For so long, people had only seen the parts of him they wanted to, whether his temper or the trappings of his success. Women were interested in the Beast persona, especially in the bedroom, but Ben had long ago tired of angry sex and jockeying for power between the sheets.

  If this was going to happen, Chloe had to choose all of him. At least that was what his head understood. His body was telling him to shut the fuck up and be grateful for this chance with her. He hadn’t wanted anyone this much in a long time.

  “I haven’t forgotten,” she whispered but kept her fingers laced with his. “My house is at the end of this block.”

  This time of night was quiet, the muted sounds of the nearby busy streets only adding to the intimacy. Although she only lived a mile from his dad’s place, most of the houses here looked as though they’d been updated and remodeled. It was a nicer section of the neighborhood, with only an occasional car driving by. The temperature had cooled a few degrees, which was one of the few things he’d missed about Colorado. Summer in Vegas was scorching morning, noon, and night. The hiss of sprinklers filled the quiet, rhythmic and soothing as they sprayed mist over the lawns they passed.

  “Here we are.” She pointed to a redbrick duplex. It was one story, each side the mirror image of the other. “I’m on the left.” Her porch was tiny, but planters of brightly colored flowers sat on the steps, and there were two whimsical plant stakes of flowers and butterflies in front of the row of shrubs that bordered the foundation. “The woman I rent from owns the house. Her daughter just had a baby, so she’s up in Wyoming for a month helping.” She let go of his hand and reached for the handle of the bike. “I can move this to the shed out back. I know this house isn’t much. It’s really small but—”

  “Are there two kids plus an old man who likes to walk around in nothing but ratty boxers inside?”

  She huffed out a laugh. “No.”

  He placed his hand over hers on the bike. “Then it’s perfect.”

  “Hardly.”

  He wanted to pull her to him and prove her wrong. The idea of making her his, of how close they were to that moment, made lust stab through him, short-circuiting his brain until it could handle only primal emotions. But Chloe deserved more, and he was going to do this right, even if it killed him. “I’ll take the bike around back and meet you inside.”

  “There’s a lock on the shed,” she told him and gave him the combination.

  He saw lights flicker on in the house as he undid the latch on the privacy fence that surrounded the backyard. By the time he’d put the bike away and turned, she was standing on the small concrete patio. His chest hurt at how beautiful she looked framed by the glow coming from the open doorway behind her. But she also seemed to be standing guard, as if letting him into her house was crossing some threshold that had more meaning than he realized.

  Being with Chloe was something he needed to earn, and the way his heart was pounding with more than lust—with a feeling that was tender and new for him—made him realize that she was worth whatever it took. He wanted her trust, her secrets, and to make her feel safe. As he walked toward her, he almost laughed at the irony. Despite his warning to her, damn if he didn’t want to be a hero right now.

  She wrapped her arms around her waist and gave him a smile that was all nerves. “Ok, well, this is it, then.”

  This is it, goodnight? Or this is it; let�
�s go inside? Ben didn’t wait to find out which she meant. Hell, he doubted she knew.

  He folded his legs and took a seat on one of the concrete steps leading from the house. “Join me,” he said and couldn’t help but trace one finger over the delicate bone of her ankle. The feel of her skin made him want to tug her down onto his lap, but he patted the cool cement next to him.

  She plopped down, covering her face with her hands. “I’m sorry,” she said for the second time that night. “I’m terrible at this.”

  “At what?” he asked casually, resisting the urge to reach for her.

  “Being with a man.”

  “Being the man in question, I disagree.” He shifted toward her. “Before this goes any further, Chloe, I need to know what’s going to work for you. I told you I wouldn’t touch you in anger, and I meant that. But—”

  “Jonathan always wanted to have sex after he hit me,” she said, the words coming together so quickly he wasn’t sure he’d heard her right. “He said it was how he knew I forgave him, because we could be intimate again.” She held her hands fisted tightly together in her lap.

  He could imagine how difficult it was for her to share that detail with him. Although anger ripped through him, he stayed silent, giving her a chance to finish what she’d started.

  “But I hadn’t forgiven him, and the sex ended up being the worst part. I was angry and humiliated, and that heaped more onto it. It was the lack of control, the feeling of him having that power over me.” She shook her head, pressed her knuckles to her eyes. “I should have let you drag me out of the kitchen earlier. That’s how it needs to happen, fast and mindless so I don’t have time to think. Thinking about it kills me.”

  “No way,” he answered, and her hazel eyes shot to his, shining in the shadows that surrounded them. “Not fast. Not mindless.” He shrugged. “Not that I don’t like those options, too, but we’re not going to force you through this, Chloe. I won’t force you to do anything.”