Recipe for Kisses (11 page)

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.

C
HAPTER EIGHT

“D
id 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?”

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.

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.”