Love Knows No Bounds (9 page)

Chapter Four

Once we came back into the kitchen, Bowen darted for the restroom. I politely reminded Leo that glancing at his watch every twenty seconds while an eight-year-old peed was rude. Once the bowls and whisks came out, they got off to a great start.

I planted myself in the corner with a book, catching a glimpse of my newly trimmed and highlighted hair in some of the stainless steel, and rolled my eyes. Talk about a waste of money. Even if I were attracted to Leo, I’d just seen him at his worst, and wouldn’t pursue it further. No way.

“Wow,” Leo said, an hour later. I looked up from the book I was reading in the corner. Bowen was standing on a footstool in front of the stovetop, stirring a large pot of homemade caramel, while Leo watched him in awe. Leo had put a long white apron and tall chef’s hat on my son, and the white fabric of the apron pooled around his sneakers.

“What?” I couldn’t help but smile.

“It’s just that I picked making caramel because it’s pastry school 101.” He glanced over his shoulder at me, and I tried to ignore how my stomach warmed to a simmer when his brown eyes reached mine. “Bowen seems to already know what he’s doing. I might let him help me make some macaroons before dinner service.”

“Bo really likes cooking. Dinner prep is our favorite time of day.” I put the paperback into my purse and stepped closer to where the two “chefs” were stirring the fragrant bubbly mixture slowly. “It seems to be the one activity that Bowen can focus on completely. When he does other activities, he is easily distracted. Sometimes he gets upset by different textures or things that feel particularly cold. But when we cook, he doesn’t seem bothered by that.”

Leo looked temporarily perplexed. “That’s baffling. My sister describes some of her cases to me, but I never put a face with the impairments. So he isn’t normally focused like this?”

Shaking my head, I shifted on the stood I was sitting on. “No. He’s normally very uptight. His tactile issues are a real burden.”

He watched Bowen for a few beats, then smiled at me, making my stomach twist. “He really has a knack in the kitchen.”

“I’m glad he enjoyed himself.”

Leo checked the candy thermometer. “I’m surprised that I enjoyed myself, too. I guess my sister was right. My whole family gave her such a hard time when she chose her line of work. I’m starting to see why she loves her job.”

“What did your family want her to do?” I pictured the giant Italian family Gianna had described.

Leo looked into the pan and patted Bowen’s stiff shoulder. “Good job, buddy.” He focused back on me. “My family owns a bread bakery in Lincoln City, Oregon. I think my parents wanted her to take over when they retired, especially after our two older brothers went off to college in other states, and I went to New York for culinary school.”

Bowen pulled the spoon out of the simmering caramel, and cast a cautious glance at Leo. “More?”

Leo reached underneath the countertop and produced three plastic spoons. “Well, every good pastry chef tastes his food. You’ll never know if you’ve cooked it correctly if you don’t taste it.”

He dipped his spoon in the caramel, then twisted it between his fingers a few times until the string of candy broke. Bowen mimicked him, not flinching when a string of caramel landed on his knuckle, and Leo nodded at me so that I would come closer and do the same. Together we all put the spoons to our mouths and tasted. Tears sprang to my eyes when Bowen took a small bite of the treat. This was the kid who hadn’t voluntarily eaten an unfamiliar food in years.

“Oh, this is incredible. It’s so buttery.” I licked my spoon.

Bowen nodded stoically, and Leo clapped a hand on his back. “Well done, Chef Bowen. You’ve made your first caramel.”

There was a hit of a smile teasing the corners of my son’s mouth.

“I was expecting to have to rein him in a time or two, at the least.” Leo threw away his used spoon and held his eyes on mine for just a beat too long, a tiny spark flickering between us. “The way Gianna described Bowen, I thought that this was going to be more of a struggle. But he cooks like a champ.”

I beamed. “I know. He even collects cookbooks.”

“Cookbooks?” Leo looked at Bowen with raised eyebrows, and turned the gas down underneath the pan. “How many have you got, kid?”

Bowen glanced at him, but quickly focused back on the caramel. “Eighteen.”

Leo’s lips pulled upward, revealing a startlingly straight, white smile. “Eighteen? Wow. Impressive. Maybe someday you’ll have one of my cookbooks on your bookshelf.”

“I don’t keep them on a bookshelf,” Bowen said matter-of-factly. “They’re under my bed.”

“You don’t have a bookshelf for your cookbooks?” Leo was quiet for a beat. “Hmm. I don’t know if I can give you a copy of my cookbook someday if you don’t have a shelf to put it on.”

Bowen swung around to face me, his face pure white. “I need a bookshelf.”

I would have laughed, except that the expression on his face spoke of pure terror. “We’ll work on it, buddy.”

“I need a bookshelf, Mom.”

Leo observed Bowen’s wide eyes. “It’s okay. I was just kidding.” He looked up at me and smiled sheepishly. “I just threw off his whole afternoon, didn’t I?”

I shrugged and squeezed Bowen’s wiry shoulders. “It’s okay. He’s been pretty focused for a while. Maybe it’s time to take off for the afternoon. What do you think, Bo? Should we head home to make some dinner?”

Bowen shook his head. “I need a bookshelf for Leo’s cookbook.”

Pressing a kiss on his blond head, I glanced at Leo, who had taken a step backward to observe me as I pressed my hands down on Bowen’s shoulders again and again. The sensory input my hands offered his little body didn’t seem to be working as well as it usually did. “Say, Leo, where can we get a copy of your cookbook?” I asked.

Leo’s expression darkened. “I actually don’t have one.”

“Oh, I thought you—”

He shook his head, removed the pan from the flame, and turned the burner off. “I was unclear. It was my intention to put one out after I opened my restaurant.”

“Are you opening a restaurant?” I asked cheerfully, peeling the apron down Bowen’s torso. “Gianna didn’t mention that.”

“I’m not.” I could practically feel the icy wind rolling across the kitchen as Leo’s mood shifted. When he looked up from the caramel he gave one last stir to, his brown eyes were filled with resentment.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” My words came out quickly, as I helped Bowen off of the footstool. “I must have misunderstood.”

He glanced at his watch again. “Okay, so we’re done now. What do you think about Monday, same time?”

What just happened? For a few seconds, it was almost like he and I were getting along, and now…the moment had crashed and burned.
Note to self
:
don’t bring up his dreams of opening a restaurant
.

Bowen’s stared down at his sticky fingers with disdain, and I fumbled to wipe them off with a wet towel. “Um, yes. Monday is fine. Maybe you two can try that macaroon recipe you mentioned earlier.”

He nodded. Just once. “Monday it is.”

This man’s mood swings were worse than a premenstrual teenage girl’s. “Well then, thank you for your time. Bowen, tell Leo thank you.”

Bowen looked up at Leo’s face. “Can I have a cookbook?”

Leo’s frown twitched. “Sorry, kid.”

I squeezed my son’s hand. “Bowen, say thank you.”

“Thank you,” he said robotically.

Embarrassed by the sudden shift in his demeanor, I turned and headed toward the door without another word. I didn’t know if I was coming or going with this man, and it was giving me a stomachache. I heard Leo pulling pots and pans out from the metal racks as we walked, and my stomach turned uncomfortably.

“Hey, Anna,” Leo called across the kitchen, right when my hand touched the door. I turned around, tension squeezing my muscles tightly. When our eyes connected, his frosty exterior melted, and one side of his mouth tugged upward.

My eyebrows rose. What in the world was he pulling now?

“Your new haircut looks great.”

Chapter Five

Bowen managed to impress Leo the following Monday by practically making the huckleberry macaroons single-handedly—though Leo was the one who put them in and took them out of the oven. And while adding the huckleberry extract had been a mistake in the beginning—Bowen had grabbed the wrong bottle—they’d turned out to be an impressive treat. When we bit into them, the tops had just enough of a crackle before melting into the soft, meringue-like middles.

We stood there munching, while Bowen watched us with a smile teasing the corners of his mouth.

Leo’s eyes widened. “Holy cow. This is really excellent.”

Nodding, I brushed a few crumbs off the front of my shirt. “I know. Bo, you did a great job.”

He was biting the insides of his cheeks to keep from smiling. “My hands are sticky.”

Leo tossed him a wet towel. “Here you go, champ. Anna, I’m impressed. I barely had to help him measure a thing. I basically just had to tell him what to put in.”

I beamed at my son, who was sitting on top of the stainless steel tabletop, diligently scrubbing between his fingers.

“It took me months to perfect my macaroon recipe.” Leo helped himself to another cookie. “This kid’s got it down at the age of eight.”

“Good macaroons don’t have cornstarch,” Bowen said to no one in particular.

Leo and I laughed, and I picked up the small brown bottle that was resting nearby. “So you make your own huckleberry extract?”

Leo nodded and stepped closer to me, igniting the air between us. It was clear that he felt the warmth, too, because his breath quickened before he replied, “Yeah. I make all of my own extracts. Almond, lemon, orange.”

“That’s fascinating. How do you make extract?” I bit into another macaroon.

“It’s not difficult at all. It just takes time and patience. You have to cook fruit down until it’s reduced to syrup, then combine it with alcohol.” Leo crossed the room to where a row of bottles were lined up on a shelf, and returned with three. He uncapped one and held it under my nose. “Orange.”

I sniffed it, ignoring how close his hand was to my face. “Smells divine.”

The next bottle brought his fingers even closer. The hair on the back of my neck stood up, and I had to suppress a shudder. “Oh, is that grapefruit?”

He smiled, his full lips stretching across his white teeth. “Good nose. Try this one.”

“Mmm, is that lemon?” I asked, my heart somersaulting.

“Key lime.” His hand dropped, but his body remained close to mine. “You, um…”

When he paused, his eyes locked on my mouth, making my head swim. Through the corner of my eye, I saw Bowen pick up a second cookie and start nibbling. Leo’s stare was heavy, and I could feel myself softening underneath its gaze like butter on a griddle. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing a sleeve of colorful images that wove together like a tapestry.

Leo brushed a finger across the corner of my mouth, making my stomach hurtle. “You’ve got some cookie right there.”

“Hell.” I wiped it away and skirted back around to the other side of the table. He had no interest in me. He was probably dating a tall, tattooed model that posed on the hood of hot rod cars for a living. In fact, she was probably waiting for him back in their shared brownstone apartment in…in…where was he from?

“So you’re from Oregon?” I asked as Leo watched me with a heavy gaze.

“Actually, I’ve been living in Seattle the last few years.” Leo popped a bite of the blue-hued cookies into his mouth. “You know, I may use these for dinner service tonight. I’ll make a lavender vanilla ice cream to go with them.”

“Sounds good.” A few more afternoons in this kitchen, and I was going to have to buy bigger jeans.

Bowen looked at me longingly. “I want to make ice cream.”

Laughing, I pointed at Leo. “Well, tell Leo. He’s the chef.”

Bo’s head spun in Leo’s direction. “I want to make ice cream.”

When Leo grinned, the hair on the back of my neck stood up. He really did have a lovely smile. Every bit as charming as Gianna’s, but with a naughty edge.

“Sure thing, kid.” He wiped down the metal tabletop. “We can make some pumpkin ice cream this Friday. I’ll get a good one at the farmer’s market.”

Bowen didn’t even try to hide his smile, and my chest swelled. “I can’t wait to try it.”

Leo looked at me for a few seconds longer than necessary, then winked. “It’s a date.”

I had to grab the edge of the table to keep from tipping over. One glance at the clock told me that it was time for Bowen and I to leave. I could already smell the main dishes simmering at the far end of the massive kitchen, and hear orders being called out by the savory chef and his sous.

“Did you hear that, Bo?” I said overenthusiastically. “It’s a date.” When Leo raised an eyebrow at me, I quickly added, “I mean, er,
you
have a date to make pumpkin ice cream.”

Bowen turned toward me and blinked a few times.

Leo watched me shifting uncomfortably, and laughed. “Maybe you can help this time, Anna.”

“I wouldn’t want to get in the way.” I pretended to be busy picking at the nonexistent polish on my nails.

“You wouldn’t be in the way,” he replied, taking the dirty bowls and spoons to the sink. “I like it when you come out of the corner.”

“You do?” I cleared my throat. “Well, I should give you and Bo that time to cook.”

He moved closer to me, wiping his hands on a white towel. “Oh, I don’t know. I kind of like being in the kitchen with a pretty girl.”

There was something about the way he looked at me. The way the corner of his mouth tugged while he waited for me respond. I sort of felt like I’d sat in an office chair and spun myself until I was so dizzy that I couldn’t walk straight.

“You’re one of those guys, aren’t you?” I took a step backward. He practically exuded heat.

He leaned against the table just a few inches away from me, and I saw the bluebird on his neck. “What kind of guy?”

I fiddled with the zipper on Bowen’s coat. My eyes rolled from Leo to Bowen, who was now bouncing in place next to the exit.

“Hey, Bo? Why don’t you make a trip to the restroom, and we’ll leave as soon as you’re done?” When he pushed through the door, I shrugged at Leo. “He always announces that he has to go when we’re halfway home.”

Leo smiled knowingly. “I see.”

Bo pushed open the kitchen door, and I turned back to Leo. “So you said that you lived in Seattle?”

“Yup.”

“Is that where your restaurant was?”

A cloud passed over Leo’s face, and his expression immediately fell. “That’s where my restaurant was
supposed
to be.”

I waited for him to explain, but our corner of the kitchen fell silent. Scratching behind my ear, I squeaked, “But it didn’t work out?”

“No,” he growled, and moved away from me.

“What happened?”

Leo removed some cream from the walk in, snatched a bowl off the rack, and slammed them both on the tabletop. After that, he retrieved an oversize whisk from a nearby rack, and slammed that down as well. When he finally raised his eyes to meet mine, his brows were pinched together. “Why do you want to know so bad?”

Yikes. What happened to the handsome guy who’d been flirting with me for the past hour?

“I…I’m just curious. Your sister told me that you are an excellent chef, and that you’ve worked under some big names. She says you’re very talented and respected. So what brought you to Podunk, Idaho?”

“My sister is entirely too confident in me.” Leo’s voice dropped a few octaves, and the anger on his face was replaced with what appeared to be sadness. “She is unwaveringly loyal, even when she shouldn’t trust me anymore.”

I watched Leo for a few minutes. His movements as he poured the cream into the bowl and began whisking it were quick and succinct, making the muscles in his forearm flex as he worked. There was no denying the twist of attraction in my gut as he moved, but all of these mysteries around Leo were enough to give me a headache.

The limb I was going out on was weak, and I could feel it buckling. “Well, why wouldn’t Gianna trust you?”

The kitchen door swung open, and Bowen appeared before us. Leo looked at him for a few beats before catching my son’s eye and offering him a halfhearted smile. The temperature in the kitchen cooled, despite the running ovens and all of the flirting that’d taken place, and I knew right then that the moment was definitely over.

Finally Leo raised his chocolate brown eyes to mine. “See you on Friday, Anna.”

And like that, I was dismissed.