His to Taste

by Winlock, Jacqueline

  George led all the introductions as I quietly cleared away the platters and small plates.

  “Lynn,” said George. “Now that the gang’s all here, is everything all ready for us to start?”

  “Of course,” I smiled. “If you all would please take your seats, I’ll bring out the starter.”

  The men waited politely for Patty and Helena to select their seats.

  “Are we really dining in the kitchen?” she scoffed. “Isn’t this where the help eats?” She flounced into her chair, pouting beseechingly at Jake.

  “It’s where Lynn and I share our meals together,” said Jake. There was a hard edge to his deep voice. “You’re welcome to take a doggie bag home with you instead.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Given the circumstances, it would be entirely appropriate.”

  Before Helena could start sputtering her outrage, I rushed over with their plates of caprese salad. “These heirloom tomatoes were too beautiful for me to resist at the farmers market yesterday.”

  “Plump and juicy,” said Vince, leering at my cleavage.

  Ignoring him, I noticed Jake’s jaw tighten dangerously. I shook my head slightly, imploring him to leave it alone.

  Once everyone had their plates, I grabbed mine and headed towards the last available seat. Jake and I sat at opposite ends of the table. Helena sat on his left while George sat on his right. I was flanked by Patty and Vince. It felt odd sitting so far away from Jake.

  “This looks delicious,” said Patty. She flashed me an encouraging smile. “Jake tells me that you recently graduated. What did you study, dear?”

  “English,” I said. “I’ve always been a voracious reader. I think it’s from growing up without any siblings.”

  “Oh, how terribly interesting,” said Helena. “I had no idea you needed a college degree to cook these days. Are you going to get a masters to wash cars, too?”

  “Helena!” Jake barked. “You’ll be civil, or you can get the hell out of my house.” He glowered at her until she wilted.

  “God, I was just asking,” she sulked. She stabbed at a mozzarella chunk, sniffing it suspiciously.

  “It’s fine,” I said, with a hesitant smile. “Mr. Cochran was so kind to give me this opportunity and I’m grateful to him.”

  “And we’re grateful to you for keeping him well-fed and for fueling his writing,” chuckled George. “This is some of his best work yet!”

  “With Lynn as my muse, it was an embarrassment of riches in terms of inspiration,” said Jake. Watching me, he deliberately wiped his mouth with his napkin, his gaze burning into mine.

  Feeling my cheeks flush, I quickly excused myself to get started on the shrimp. Tying on my apron, I turned on the stove, and pulled out the shrimp, butter, and fresh lemons. While I waited for the pan to heat, I finished the creamy avocado sauce, thoroughly tossing it into the pasta to ensure that the rich, lemony sauce coated every strand.

  I could hear snippets of the table’s conversation. Helena and Vince were getting animated. Jake’s handsome face was impassive, but I could see the tension in his stiff shoulders as he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed.

  After a quick saute, I plated the shrimp on the mounds of cool pasta. I heard the scrape of a chair and was startled to see Jake approach me, setting aside the dirty appetizer plates in the sink.

  “Everything okay?” he asked, quietly.

  “Yup, the pasta is all ready,” I said, avoiding his gaze.

  “No,” he said. “I meant with you, love. Are you alright?” He lifted his hand to caress my cheek, but I jerked back.

  “Please, Mr. Cochran,” I said, tugging off my apron. “I’m fine. Just let me serve your guests.”

  I carefully balanced four plates and walked back to serve everyone else. I knew he wanted to comfort me, but I couldn’t stand the thought of having our private relationship viewed as something sordid. It felt dirty now, as if I was his kept mistress playing house instead of his employee.

  When I turned back to the kitchen, he had already set my plate down for me. He stalked back to his seat without a word.

  Other than the clink of silverware, the table fell into an awkward silence as we all tucked into our entrees. I could feel Jake’s searing gaze, but I stared at my plate.

  Patty broke the tension by complimenting me on the pasta.

  “I’m so glad you like it,” I said, smiling gratefully. “I thought it would be a nice, lighter alternative to regular cream-based sauces. If you want, I can send you the recipe.”

  “That would be lovely,” she said.

  Helena must have become bored of her attempts to persuade Jake. “That’s a pretty dress, Lynn,” she said, her voice saccharine sweet. “It’s Armani, isn’t it? My stylist pulled a yellow one for me a few weeks ago.”

  “Oh,” I said. “Thank you. Yes, I suppose it is Armani.”

  “How interesting,” she said. “I had no idea that cooks get paid so well that they can afford designer outfit.” Her unnaturally plump lips curved into a sly smirk.

  “It was a gift,” said Jake. His tone was mild, but his jaw was clenched.

  “A gift?” she asked, with a shrill little laugh “I give my maids gift cards for coffee. What kind of dessert does she give you that earns her an Armani dress?”

  I jumped when Jake slammed his fist on the table. “Goddamn it—”

  “Fine,” I interjected. “Why don’t you be the judge of that Helena? Now is as good a time as any for dessert, isn’t it? Maybe it’ll sweeten that sour tongue of yours.” Without a backward glance, I strode to the fridge and yanked on my apron.

  I viciously attacked the heavy whipping cream with my whisk, wishing it was Helena’s Botoxed face. Once soft peaks formed, I plated the tropical shortcakes. Without hesitating, I poured myself a shot of spiced rum and knocked it back, sighing as the liquid heat warmed my belly. Patty caught my eye. Winking, she toasted me with her wine glass, and I cheerfully reciprocated with my empty shot glass.

  I balanced the small dessert plates on a tray. I served Helena last, resisting the urge to smash it into her perfect blonde bob. As I cleared away the dirty plates, I heard the moans of appreciation from Patty and George.

  “Oh, this is just marvelous,” said Patty. “It’s like eating ethereal little clouds.”

  “Forget the pasta,” said George, around a hearty mouthful. “You have to give us the recipe for these cream biscuits!”

  I grinned at them as I returned to my seat. “Of course!”

  Helena glared at me, but kept a sullen silence. I gave her a cool little smile when I saw that she had already demolished her dessert. I pointedly dropped my gaze to her empty plate, staring at her until she flushed and looked away.

  “Sweetheart, this could definitely earn you a role in one of my movies,” said Vince. “But I still wouldn’t mind seeing your other talents on my casting couch.”

  “You rude little shit,” growled Jake. “Talk like that again and I’ll knock out every last one of your veneers. Apologize. Now.”

  “Jesus!” whined Vince. “Take it easy—I was just joking!” He glanced at me nervously, his beady eyes darting from Jake to me. “I apologize.”

  “George,” said Jake. “I tried, but I’ve had enough of this bullshit.”

  George nodded knowingly, shrugging.

  “Vince, you’ve been misled,” said Jake. “I’m not interested in your offer and Helena’s name will never be attached to any of my work, regardless of her petty machinations.”

  “But, Jake, darling,” sputtered Helena. “Please—”

  “That was your cue for the two of you to get the hell out of my house.”

  “I will not be spoken to like that!”

  Ding dong.

  “Now what?” groaned Jake.

  “I’ll get it,” I said, grateful for the reprieve.

  My jaw dropped when I opened the door and found Grandma and a sheepish-looking Mrs. Rowland.

  “Hello, dear!” Gran
dma breezed past me, clutching at a grocery bag,

  “I’m sorry, sweetie,” whispered Mrs. Rowland. “I just couldn’t dissuade her.”

  “It’s nice to see you both, but what’s going on?”

  “Oh, it’s just a quick visit, dear,” Grandma smiled. “I felt so guilty pulling you away from poor Mr. Cochran tonight so I brought him some goodies to help ease his pain.” Before my bewildered brain processed her words, she had bustled towards the kitchen. “Mr. Cochran,” she called.

  Oh, shit.

  By the time Mrs. Rowland and I caught up with her, she was already the center of attention.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” said Grandma. Turning to George, she said, “You poor, brave man! Hosting a dinner party in your condition. Tsk, tsk.” She plopped the paper bag next to his empty dessert plate. “How are your bowels? When I had my hemorrhoids removed, only prunes, Metamucil, and these witch hazel compresses did me any good. Here, I made you some.”

  Speechless, George could only stare as she rummaged through her bag. Patty started chuckling which made him finally erupt with hearty belly laughs.

  “Thank you for your consideration, ma’am,” he chuckled, wiping away tears. “But I’m not Mr. Cochran.”

  “What?” said Grandma.

  “I am,” grinned Jake. “And my bowels are just fine, thank you.” He winked at me and I prayed that a sinkhole would magically appear in that second to swallow me whole.

  “What?!” squawked Grandma. “I thought you were an old coot! Have you been taking advantage of my innocent grandbaby?!”

  “Grandma!”

  “Lynn Strickland,” she said. “Have you been lying to me all this time?!”

  I opened my mouth to respond, but no words emerged. All their faces started to blur together, forcing me to shut my eyes. Between Helena’s sniping, the sordid insinuations, and my heartbreak over leaving Jake, Grandma wagging her finger at me was the final straw.

  “Grandma, we’ll discuss this later. George and Patty, it was a pleasure meeting you both. Helena and Vince, it was not. Mrs. Rowland, happy birthday.”

  Jake stood, heading towards me. I held up my hand and he stopped, frowning.

  “Mr. Cochran, thank you so much for everything,” I said. “Goodbye.”

  Turning away before he could see the sheen of tears in my eyes, I fled out of the kitchen. Grateful that I had already loaded my suitcase into my car that morning, I grabbed my purse and headed out the door for the final time.

  CHAPTER NINE

  After a couple weeks of giving myself permission to mope, including wailing along to melodramatic breakup songs, I forced myself to reflect on the craziness of the past couple of months. There are only so many times you can sob along in the shower to Adele’s cover of “I Can’t Make You Love Me” before you start questioning your sanity.

  I was so focused on just paying the bills that I never asked myself what type of work would bring me the most joy. While I wallowed in self-pity, baking my favorite cream biscuits became a welcome, familiar distraction. It was soothing to work with the delicate dough. I ended up stuffing Grandma, Mrs. Rowland, and Julia full of them with my baking sprees—not that they were complaining. I started experimenting with different savory flavors, like bacon and cheddar, and parmesan and rosemary. For sweet variations, Grandma loved the chocolate chip version, while Julia kept hoarding the strawberry biscuits. I was partial to the strawberry ones just because Jake always loved my strawberry shortcake; these cream biscuits were the foundation for that particular dessert.

  It was easy enough to do a bit of market research as I contemplated starting a small business. If I could have people like the Brooks complimenting my food and asking me for my recipe, then why the hell couldn’t I do this full-time? Other than falling hopelessly in love with my boss, I honestly had a blast feeding people professionally. I could deliver my biscuits to local cafes and restaurants, set up a booth at the local farmer’s market on the weekend, and do private orders.

  As soon as I created a business plan, everything fell into place. Once my permits and licenses were processed, I put together a basic website, printed business cards, and started marketing my services online. For a small fee, Mrs. Rowland’s sister gave me access to the kitchen in her diner to bake.

  Putting in the hours for baking was the easy part. I hit up every single restaurant and cafe within a ten-mile radius, brandishing a box of fresh samples and a confident smile. Although I garnered plenty of great feedback, I only earned five contracts, but it was a great start. I received tons of referrals from Grandma’s friends at her senior center, while Julia and our other girlfriends generated orders for their offices. With every passing week, I earned more positive reviews online. For two months, Lynn’s Biscuits was my baby and I was so grateful for not only the distraction, but for also having something that was wholly mine.

  Initially, it was nearly impossible for me to pretend that I wasn’t devastated. Everything reminded me of Jake; I couldn’t even cook some of the meals that I had made for him. Every little notification from my phone made my chest feel tight in hopeful anticipation, but I knew it was ridiculous to hope it was from him. He obviously had moved on quickly, and it crushed me to know that I was only another notch in his proverbial bedpost. I couldn’t really blame him, though. It was my own fault for reneging on our arrangement; it wasn’t his problem that I had fallen head over heels for him.

  Julia took me under her wing and nursed my broken heart with plenty of Haagen Daaz ice cream and glasses of sweet, bubbly Moscato. Grandma refrained from her lectures and I found myself seeking her non-judgmental advice more and more. Once Jake transferred my payment into my checking account, a weight had been lifted from our shoulders along with our financial strain.

  As I was checking out the competition’s posts on Craigslist, one of the older headlines caught my eye. Nearly choking on my coffee, I hastily gulped down a swig as I clicked on the link.

  Lord Moreland still seeking his AWOL chambermaid. If she doesn’t come back and resume her duties, he’s going to waste away into a pale shadow of a lord. The care packages from the little gray dragon aren’t enough to appease his manly appetites.

  Oh, my god. I burst into horrified giggles and scrolled further down.

  Officer London seeking his speeding co-ed. She missed her standing appointment with him. If she fails to make her next appointment, he’ll be forced to bring her into his custody with no chance of bail.

  Jake. This was unreal. I checked the dates on the listings; they were nearly a month old. I searched for “Moreland,” and came up with a few more posts. The oldest one made my jaw drop.

  Lord Moreland desperately seeking his AWOL chambermaid. He found her tower, but her little gray dragon shooed him away. Since the dragon was too adorable to slay, he’ll just have to make do with sending her these missives instead, and hope she’ll forgive him someday.

  What the hell. Jake had actually showed up here to find me? The realization stunned me and I could only stare blankly at the screen. I kept re-reading those three sentences until the words ran together. Shock gave way to anger. Why the hell didn’t that adorable little gray dragon bother to tell her damn granddaughter that Jake Cochran had come asking for her?

  I found the little gray dragon puttering in the garden. I crouched down beside her.

  “Grandma,” I said. “Did I have any visitors recently?”

  “You mean your boss, dear?” She continued nonchalantly pruning her tulips.

  “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me! When was he here? What did he say? Oh, god…what did you say?” I had to force myself to take a few deep breaths; I knew I sounded like a hysterical teenager.

  She finally turned to me and pulled off her gardening gloves. “Calm down, dear.” I let her tug at my arm to go sit beneath the shade. “That gorgeous man showed up on our doorstep a week after you resigned. You were out with Julia. He was polite and contrite, and so very eager to find you.”

  “
But—”

  “No, dear.” Her smile was gentle. “You weren’t ready to see him yet. What you needed was a little time to grow up and find yourself on your own two feet before rushing into anything with him, or with anyone else for that matter.”

  “I wish you had let me make that decision myself,” I sighed. My irritation had already dissipated and I knew she was right.

  “Your wounds were too raw, dear,” she said. “Trust me. If this man is willing to wait and work for you, then you’ll have the rest of your lives to figure that out. You both needed time away from each other to appreciate what you had. In the meantime, you’ve been blossoming into a mature young woman. I’m so proud of you.”

  “I love you, Grandma.” I wrapped her up in a fierce bear hug and she giggled, returning my squeeze.

  “I love you, too, dear,” she grinned. “Now go find your hunk. If you don’t want him, then I just might have to schedule my own interview. Where the heck does he think you learned how to make those biscuits, anyway?”

  Cracking up, I gave her a quick peck on the cheek, and headed back into the house to change. If I was going to confront Jake Cochran, I was going to look damn good.

  CHAPTER TEN

  His SUV was parked in the driveway when I pulled up to the curb. I tightened the sash on my trench coat. There was no looking back. My strappy black heels clicked determinedly up the steps. Goosebumps pricked my skin as dusk settled, but my entire body was hot from anticipation. Underneath the coat, my naughty bits were only clad in tiny wisps of black lace.

  I pictured Jake staring at my curves in the matching bra and boy shorts. My nipples felt tight and a familiar heat spread low in my belly. With my thick hair straightened into a sleek dark curtain down my back, I knew I looked like I had jut stepped straight out of his novel. I didn’t feel like unsure little Lynn Strickland anymore; I was a confident sexpot.

  And I was ready to claim my man.