Recipe for Love: A Sweet Collection

by K. C. Lynn

  Grace

  I walk into the kitchen the next morning with Chuckie trailing behind me, and find Sawyer sittin’ at the table with a sandwich in front of him. The sight of him this early in the morning brings warmth to my heavy heart.

  “A sandwich for breakfast, Sawyer?” I ask, lifting a brow at him.

  “Nothing beats a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.”

  I hold out my hand for his plate.

  He covers the sandwich, hugging it closer to him. “Get your own sandwich, woman.”

  Giggling, I snatch the plate from him. “I’m not gonna eat it, silly.” Walking over to the stove, I pull my frying pan out, then start buttering each side of the bread.

  “What are you doing? You heard me when I said it was peanut butter and jelly, right?”

  “Trust me, you’re gonna love this.” After buttering it, I sprinkle cinnamon and sugar on it then place it in the pan.

  Sawyer drops his head in his hands, acting as if I just ruined his whole breakfast.

  Whatever, he’ll see.

  While the bread is grillin’, I fill Chuckie’s dish. I’m bent over at the waist, scooping his food out of the massive bag when a deep groan fills the air. I peek over my shoulder to find Sawyer staring directly at my ass. The hungry look in his eyes has my pulse kick starting.

  I clear my throat, forcing his eyes up to mine.

  He flashes me one of his panty droppin’ smiles, not the least bit apologetic.

  I shake my head.

  “What?” he asks, mock innocence coating his tone.

  “Don’t you ‘what’ me, Sawyer Evans, you know what I’m shakin’ my head at.”

  “You can’t expect me not to stare at your ass in those small shorts, Grace, that’s just impossible not to do. And those fucking socks… Jesus.”

  “What’s wrong with my socks?” I ask, insulted.

  “Baby, there isn’t a thing wrong with them, that’s the problem.”

  “You have got to be kiddin’ me. I have a feeling it doesn’t take much to get you worked up, Evans.”

  “Not when it comes to you, Cupcake.”

  Rolling my eyes, I move back to finish his sandwich. It’s not that I don’t want to believe him, because I do, desperately. But I have a hard time when I’m still hearing Jenny’s moans in my head.

  Don’t think about her, Grace, I scold myself.

  Once the sandwich is done, I cut it in half and watch the peanut butter and jelly ooze out. I bring the plate over to Sawyer then turn to grab myself something but he snags my wrist, halting me in my tracks. I look down at him, finding all his earlier amusement gone.

  “How did you sleep last night?” he asks.

  “No worse than I usually do.”

  It’s a lie. I slept horribly, only because I knew he was down the hall. The temptation to flee my bed and join him was strong. I wanted to be held by him, wrapped in his protective arms and feel safe.

  “How about you?” I ask.

  His response is a grunt.

  “Is the spare bed uncomfortable?” The last thing I want is for him to be getting no sleep when he’s already doing so much for me by being here.

  “The bed is fine, Cupcake. It just would have been better if you were in it with me,” he says, gracing me with a sexy wink.

  Heat invades my cheeks, hating how close his thoughts are to mine. “Be quiet and eat your breakfast of champions.”

  His chuckle sounds behind me as I grab a banana from the counter before taking the seat across from him. I watch him eye the sandwich before he finally takes a bite.

  A deep groan rips from his chest. “Marry me,” he says with a mouth full.

  I take a triumphant bite of my banana. “Told ya.”

  “That you did, Cupcake.” His smile fades, a look passing over his face that I can’t decipher. “I want to take you to the gun range today to teach you how to shoot.”

  My eyes flare in surprise, the entire thought giving me anxiety. “I don’t think so, Sawyer. I hate guns. I don’t like any kind of violence.”

  “This isn’t violence, it’s self-defense,” he argues. “Look, I don’t plan on leaving your side until that fucker is back behind bars, but anything can happen, and I will feel a lot better knowing you can at least shoot a gun if you need to.”

  He makes a good point. The last thing I want is to ever be vulnerable and helpless again, especially to that monster.

  “Okay,” I relent. “I guess it’s not a bad idea.”

  “Good. We’ll head out after we eat.”

  “I need to stop by the diner at some point today; I have to talk to Mac about my schedule.”

  “You can’t work right now.”

  I rear back at his bold statement. “I have no choice. I need the money.”

  He shrugs. “Don’t worry about that. I have more than enough to help out.”

  I gape at him, flabbergasted by the outrageous comment. “I’ll pretend you didn’t just say that.”

  His eyes narrow and I feel an argument brewin’ but I don’t give him one. I refuse to fight about this.

  My hands press on the table as I climb to my feet. “I’m gonna go ahead and get dressed. I’ll be ready soon.”

  Without another word, I walk away, feeling his disapproving gaze on my back like a lingering caress. Even when frustrated with the man, he still makes me hot and bothered. It’s incredibly unfair.

  The amount of guns that line the walls are intimidating. My eyes are wide as I take in the impressive selection while I stand next to Sawyer at the counter. He grabs us ear protection and safety glasses, handing me mine before leading me out back into an open space.

  I slip my headset on and take in the black piece of paper that hangs before me. The white outline of a human body makes me feel like I’m in one of those CSI episodes.

  A tap on my shoulder startles me. I spin around to find Sawyer wearing a smirk, amusement dancing in those sexy green eyes of his. He slips my ear protection off and hangs them around my neck. “Baby, you don’t need these on until you shoot. Otherwise you can’t hear me.”

  “Sorry,” I mumble, feeling embarrassed.

  His cocky grin softens into a heart-stealing smile. “It’s not a big deal.”

  Maybe not to him because he’s not the one who looked like an ass.

  He opens the steel case that he brought with us and pulls out two nifty looking guns. As much as I hate weapons, I have to admit he looks damn good holdin’ one.

  While he locks and loads, my eyes wander over him, taking in what I’ve come to realize is his standard worn jeans that hang in all the right places and basic T-shirt molding to his lean, muscular frame. There’s nothing outstanding about the apparel except for the man wearing them.

  The sound of a throat being cleared has my eyes yanking to his.

  “Whenever you’re done looking, Cupcake, I’m ready.”

  My eyes narrow, hoping to hide the blush heating my cheeks. “I’d be careful how smug you are, Evans, considering you’re puttin’ a gun in my hands.”

  Chuckling, he turns his black hat backwards then puts his own glasses on.

  Sweet Jesus, it just got a whole lot hotter in here.

  He places the gun in my hand and it takes everything in me not to recoil at the cold hard feel of the deadly weapon.

  “All right, turn around.” He grabs onto my shoulders and turns me himself. “Spread your legs shoulder-width apart.”

  I follow his instruction.

  “Wider.” Grabbing my hips, he kicks my feet further apart.

  Oh man, that was so hot.

  “All right, now hold up the gun.”

  I raise it.

  “Forward, baby. You’re going to shoot the goddamn roof off holding it like that,” he says, laughing.

  “Stop making fun of me. You act like I should be an expert or somethin’. It’s not like I’ve ever done this before.”

  “I’m not making fun of you,” he argues.

  “Yes, you ar
e.”

  “All right, I am.”

  I elbow him in the stomach, which only makes him chuckle more.

  Sexy jerk.

  “Okay, no more. I promise. Now hold your arms in front of you, and I’ll reposition your hands.”

  I raise the gun again, this time directly in front of me.

  Sawyer crowds my back, his hard body covering mine as he begins explaining things but I hear nothing. The heat of his body and his warm breath tickling my ear short-circuits my brain. My pulse skips as pleasure races over my hot skin.

  For a girl who’s never had an orgasm before, I’m pretty sure I’m about to finally know what it feels like.

  “Grace!” Sawyer’s warning growl yanks me back to the moment. His fingers dig into my hips as he pulls me back against him, his erection nudging my bottom.

  Oh god.

  “Be careful, Cupcake. My control is really fucking thin when it comes to you. Keep it up and I’ll bend you over right here and fuck you within an inch of your life.”

  My chest rises and falls with heated breaths, the war within my body strong.

  He ends up stepping back, a curse fleeing past his lips.

  I grab on to the wall to steady myself. My head twists to the side, eyes meeting his over my shoulder. The hunger in his gaze mirrors my own.

  I’ve never felt like this with someone before, never felt this strong of a pull. My body craves to feel his skin upon mine. The urge to know what it’s like to be at the receiving end of his touch, even for just a night, has heat exploding through my body.

  “Get into position again,” he orders, voice gruff.

  I comply, my knees feeling weak.

  Instead of coming up behind me, he stands to the side and adjusts my hands to where they need to be. “It’s important to keep your arms locked tight, do not loosen your stance.”

  I nod, but don’t feel very confident, my hands visibly shaking with nerves.

  “You got this.” After the vote of confidence, he puts on his ear protection then he reaches over and slips mine in place. Resting his hand on my back, he gives me the go-ahead.

  I remain frozen, unable to move. My entire body begins trembling as bad as my hands and it’s not long before tears form in my eyes. It’s a ridiculous reaction but for some reason I’m terrified to pull the trigger.

  Sawyer presses a kiss to my temple then moves in behind me, wrapping his arms around me. He locks up our stances and places his finger over the trigger with mine then does what I couldn’t do on my own.

  The first shot we fire off, I flinch. The second is a little less jolting. Sawyer keeps our stances locked, his finger never faltering as he squeezes off five additional shots before he steps back to reload.

  This time when he hands it to me, I take it with a little more confidence. He remains behind me but doesn’t help. I aim at the target, focusing on the white outline and picture Miguel. The memory of dark, malicious eyes that stole my mother’s last breath has all my pent-up anger bubbling to the surface. It gives me the push I need to pull the trigger.

  The first shot, I stumble back but regain my footing quickly and lock my stance up tighter. I continue firing off consecutively, hitting my target each time until the clip is empty.

  I stare at the black paper, a little surprised at how good that felt. My lips lift into a smile and I turn around to see a matching one on Sawyer’s face.

  “Did you see that? I shot that shit up.”

  His laughter fills the air as I launch myself at him.

  “I can’t believe I just did that,” I say, hugging him tight.

  “You did good, Grace. I’m proud of you.”

  His praise has my throat growing tight. “Thank you for teachin’ me this. It makes me feel a little safer.”

  He pulls me in closer, his arms banded tight around me. “You are safe. I’ll never let anything happen to you.”

  For the first time in three years, I feel a small measure of peace; one I haven’t felt since my mother was ripped away from me.

  Grace

  Sawyer and I have a nice dinner at the diner. Once the supper rush clears, I head into the back and speak with Mac privately about my schedule. He tells me not to worry about it and says he wants me to make the pies from home then deliver them to the diner in the morning.

  My eyes narrow, suspicion rearing its head. “Sawyer put you up to this, didn’t he?”

  I can tell by his expression that I hit the nail on the head. “Now don’t go getting all mad, you stubborn girl. Sawyer may have brought it up to me, but I had already thought about it and it’s my decision.”

  I shake my head. “I can’t, Mac. I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I can’t accept paychecks when I’m not workin’, it’s not right.”

  “You’re still working, darlin’, you’re just doing it from home.”

  “My pies ain’t worth what you’re trying to pay me.”

  “The hell they aren’t,” he counters. “Listen, you’re going to accept this, Grace. I need you to worry about yourself right now. I can’t have anything happen to you, it would break my heart.”

  My throat tightens at the concern in his eyes.

  He steps forward, wrapping me in one of his famous bear hugs. “You have people who love and care about you, darlin’, let us help you.”

  “I love you too, but what are you gonna do for help?”

  “Don’t worry about me. Shelly is doing better now, and Ruby said she would come help out. I also have another interview tomorrow.”

  “I hope they catch him soon,” I whisper. “Then my life can get back to normal.”

  “I hope the son of a bitch comes in here,” he seethes. “I’ll fry the motherfucker’s ass right there on my grill.”

  I chuckle at the image, my arms hugging him tighter. “Thanks for everythin’, Mac. One of the best things that ever happened to me was meeting you.”

  “Me too, girl. You’re like the daughter I never had.”

  His sweet words have me blubberin’ like a fool. Oftentimes, I’ve found myself wondering how different my life would be if Mac had been my father.

  “Now go on and get out of here,” he says, stepping back, his own eyes red with emotion. “I’ll see you tomorrow when you bring in the pies.”

  Nodding, I wipe the remainder of my tears then walk out of the kitchen, coming to a hard stop when I find that bitch Jenny with Sawyer. They seem to be in a heated conversation but it’s hard to tell since Sawyer’s back is to me.

  Jenny glares over his shoulder at me, a smug smile lifting her lips.

  My blood heats with jealousy, a sick feeling forming in my gut.

  Sawyer turns around, finding me by the kitchen door that I’ve become glued to. “You ready to go?” he asks, walking away from her without a second thought.

  It should make me feel better, but it doesn’t. All I can hear are her stupid moans from weeks ago.

  “Yep!” I walk out the door, my feet quick as I leave him behind. By the time I reach his locked truck, I’m fighting to dispel the anger gripping me.

  His gaze is on me as he walks over but I avoid eye contact. Once he hits the locks, I climb up into the truck, slamming my door.

  Silence fills the truck as Sawyer pulls away, heading back to my house.

  “Did you get everything worked out with Mac?” he asks, side glancing me.

  “Yup.”

  “Is he giving you some time off?”

  “Yup.” My answer is just as short and clipped as my last, my attention anchored ahead of me as I stare out the window.

  “Is there a goddamn problem, Grace?”

  “Nope.”

  He grunts, knowin’ I’m full of it, but thankfully he leaves it alone.

  I feel bad for taking my anger out on him. I’m more mad at Jenny. She’s the one who’s always so darn mean to me, but Sawyer hurt me more and it’s a pain I’m having a hard time letting go of. Just thinking about the night they shared makes my stomach churn.

>   When we pull onto my driveway, I hop out of the truck and hurry into the house. Chuckie greets me like always; his wet kisses bringing a small reprieve to my hurting heart.

  Sawyer charges in seconds later, his expression tight with anger as he slams the door behind him. “You want to tell me what has you so pissed off so we can get it the fuck out of the way?”

  I stare up at him, and consider telling him everything. How angry it makes me feel to see them together, how much it still hurts to know he was with her, but I know it’s pointless because what’s been done is done. It can’t be taken back, no matter how much I wish it could.

  Shaking my head, I stand. “I don’t wanna talk about it. I just want to go to bed.”

  He doesn’t stop me as I head into my bedroom and close the door.

  In the quiet dark, the silence taunts me more and I end up lying awake, wishing for what could have been.

  Sawyer

  A clanging noise pulls me from my restless sleep. Glancing at the clock, I see it’s three in the morning.

  What the hell is she doing in the kitchen at this time of night?

  I debate whether or not to go check on her, unsure if it’s safe to do so. She was so pissed off at me tonight for god knows what. I’ve endlessly racked my brain trying to figure it out but I can’t. I’m at a loss over what I did wrong.

  When I hear more banging around, I give up and decide to go find out. It’s time to sort this shit out because I do not like fighting with her. Not unless there’s makeup sex involved but I have a feeling I’m not anywhere close to that with her.

  I throw on my jeans from earlier, not bothering with the button and almost forgo a shirt too but then remember the scars that mark my body. She hasn’t seen them yet and now is not the time to reveal them to her.

  My strides are purposeful as I make my way to the kitchen, but I pull up short when I find her pacing angrily, a wooden spoon clutched in her hand as she grabs everything she needs to bake a pie. The dog’s head moves from side to side as he sits in the corner, following her every move.

  “Oh my god, really?” she says dramatically, talking to the air in front of her. “You like my boobs? Well thank you, they’re fake, just like me.”