The Husband Recipe

by Linda Winstead Jones

  Cole woke to the smell of coffee. He’d thought the kids would sleep late, but apparently Meredith was up, at least. He opened one eye and found his daughter standing by the bed, steaming mug in hand. Justin slept on, with his pillow tossed to the floor and his head halfway under the covers. His breathing was deep and even.

  Meredith kept her voice low. “I thought you might be in a bad mood this morning, so I decided to bring your coffee to you so you’d, you know, feel better.”

  Cole swung his legs over the side of the bed. He’d gotten accustomed to the pajamas he’d once refused to wear. As the sole parent responding to all late-night calls, they’d become a necessary addition to his wardrobe even though he’d once believed that real men didn’t wear pajamas. “Thanks, Mer. Justin’s accident did put a damper on the evening.” He took the coffee, cradled the mug, sipped.

  Meredith’s eyes widened. “I wasn’t talking about the accident.”

  Cole glanced up. “What, then?” Was there something going on he didn’t know about? Another disaster looming?

  “I thought you might be in a bad mood about Miss Lauren.”

  The name alone was enough to make him perk up. “What about her?”

  “You like her.”

  He made a point of not lying to his kids, even when he knew they wouldn’t like the truth. “Maybe a little.”

  Meredith shuffled her feet, looked down at the floor, then cast her eyes to his. “Last night when y’all were talking, she did tell you that she has a boyfriend, didn’t she?”

  “She does?” Why was he surprised? Women like Lauren didn’t stay single for long. If ever.

  “Two of them. One travels a lot, so sometimes she dates the other one when he’s out of town. She said something about keeping all her options open.”

  Had he misread the occasional interested look Lauren had cast his way, the spark of interest he’d noticed last night? No, he was pretty sure he hadn’t. At his kitchen table she’d seemed friendly enough; more than friendly. Talk about wishful thinking! Though she’d said she didn’t “date,” if the woman had two boyfriends, maybe she wasn’t opposed to taking on a third. Huh. He never would’ve taken Lauren Russell for a man-eater.

  “How did you end up talking about her boyfriends?”

  “She had to call one of them to cancel. She told him she was stuck in the hospital but she’d see him later. That’s why I figured she’d mention it to you, since she was probably rushing off to meet him.”

  The word that caught Cole’s attention was stuck. Dammit, he hadn’t asked Lauren to come along. She’d insisted. She’d snatched the car keys out of his hand! Had Boyfriend One or Boyfriend Two come over last night, had one of them been there while Cole had watched her sashay home? Had she made some sucker wait while she shared a sandwich with her new neighbor or had she run home, changed clothes and gone out to meet him somewhere?

  If she’d had plans, why had she insisted on going to the hospital with him? Why had she made herself at home in his kitchen as if she had no other place to be? Like he was going to try to figure out how a woman like that thought.

  He took a deep breath, exhaled, then took a long drink of coffee, enjoying the taste before he spoke. “She can have a hundred boyfriends, for all I care. Miss Lauren is just a nice neighbor, that’s all.”

  “You don’t want to, like, date her?”

  Not anymore…“Sugar, how many times do I have to tell you. I don’t have time for dating.” And even if he did, he didn’t share. Not where women were concerned.

  “I’m going to make eggs for breakfast,” Meredith insisted, her voice lighter and brighter with the subject of Lauren behind them. “How do you want yours?”

  It didn’t matter how he answered, he was going to get scrambled and burned. And he’d eat every bite. “You pick.” Cole drank a swig of coffee and stood. “I’m going to get a shower, then I’ll be ready for breakfast.”

  “Dad!” Meredith called as he walked toward the hallway.

  Cole turned and his heart almost broke. Meredith was so serious, so earnest. “We don’t need her,” she said.

  “I know that.”

  “We don’t need anyone.”

  He winked. “You’ve got that right.” But inside, he felt a tiny sense of loss he couldn’t ignore. What on earth had made him think, for even an instant, that he could afford to get involved with a woman at this point in his life? His life was not his own, and it wouldn’t be for several more years.

  Lauren had stopped by the drugstore and picked up a few teenage-appropriate cosmetics. A light blush, a natural lipstick, a brown mascara. She’d never had a sister to play dress-up with, had never really learned much about the application of makeup except by trial and error. So she’d bought a teen magazine that had tips on applying makeup.

  She shouldn’t be so excited. She definitely shouldn’t wonder if she was excited about working with Meredith or about seeing Cole again.

  Lauren was crossing the yard, heading for the Donovans’ front door, when Meredith stepped out of that door and onto the front porch with a spring in her step. The young girl sprinted across the lawn, a surprisingly determined expression on her pretty face.

  “Hi,” Lauren called in a bright voice. She lifted the drugstore bag high. “I picked up a few things for us to experiment with. Is this a good time?”

  Meredith glanced back toward her house. “Not really. Dad is expecting one of his girlfriends tonight, and we’re trying to get the house clean. I saw you headed this way, that’s why I came out to meet you. He is such a bear when we don’t do things the way he tells us to. You really don’t want to interrupt him when he’s like this.”

  Lauren frowned. She hadn’t seen that side of him. And girlfriends? Plural? She shouldn’t be surprised, but she was. She was also oddly disappointed. “I didn’t know your dad had girlfriends.”

  Meredith nodded her head. “Lots. Women pretty much fall all over him. Tiffany? The woman who’s coming over tonight? She’s gorgeous. And she makes the best lasagna I’ve ever tasted.” Her brown eyes widened. “Not that your lasagna wasn’t good, too.”

  Lauren’s spine straightened. Maybe this Tiffany was prettier than she was, but better lasagna? Impossible. “Well, we’ll do it another time.” She offered the bag of cosmetics to Meredith. “You can go ahead and take this, if you’d like.”

  The young girl shook her head while she looked at the drugstore bag as if it might have a snake in it. “No, thanks. I’ll…I’ll call you when I have a chance to, you know, play.”

  Lauren had never before gotten the “Don’t call me, I’ll call you” brush-off from a twelve-year-old, but she supposed there was a first time for everything. “Sure,” she said as she took a step back. “I’ll talk to you later.”

  Meredith turned and ran back to her house, loping gracefully on coltish legs. Lauren spun around and headed toward her own front door. It was just as well, she supposed, that matters had been halted before they went too far. She didn’t want to get involved with a man who had girlfriends. She really didn’t want or need a man at all! Good-looking or not, she didn’t need a complication like Cole Donovan in her life.

  It wasn’t like they had anything in common. In fact, if she’d ever met a man who wasn’t right for her, it was Cole.

  Lauren stored the cosmetics she’d bought for Meredith under the sink in the hall bathroom, then made her way to the kitchen. She’d put a lot of thought into decorating each and every room of her house, but it was the kitchen where she felt most at home. It was the kitchen she turned to when she needed soothing. She put the kettle on the stove and snagged her favorite porcelain teacup, chose a decaffeinated tea bag from the wide variety in the pantry and waited for the water to boil. Some people boiled water in the microwave, she knew, but Lauren had never been a fan of the microwave. She had one, because these days it was a requirement in any kitchen, but she didn’t use hers often. When she was in a hurry she’d use it to warm up leftovers, but otherwise… It seem
ed a little like cheating.

  Cole Donovan probably didn’t even own a teakettle, and likely wouldn’t know what to do with one if it showed up in his kitchen. She imagined his microwave saw lots of use. Something else to hold against him.

  Lauren sat at the breakfast nook with her tea and cradled the warm cup in both hands. It was soothing, the way the smell of fresh baking bread or the scent of vanilla was soothing. It made her angry that she felt the need to be soothed simply because Cole Donovan hadn’t turned out to be exactly as he’d initially seemed.

  She wasn’t looking for more in her life. She didn’t need more. Her life was near perfect, her career proceeding exactly as planned. But as she sat there she still felt, inexplicably, as if she’d lost something.

  Chapter Six

  Somehow the noise from the neighbor’s backyard wasn’t as distracting as it had once been. Just a few weeks ago the screams and laughter and thumps had dragged Lauren completely out of the zone she needed to be in to work. Maybe she was just used to the commotion, and had relegated it to another part of her brain. As long as they didn’t break another window…

  She was almost finished with her article about squash recipes, which included a story about Sunday dinner at her grandmother’s house. Newspaper sales were down, but the paper she wrote for maintained a healthy circulation, their website was popular, and the ads on her own website added to her income. If the book she’d written was a success, another would follow in two or three years and she’d be in great shape, financially. Maybe she’d never be rich, but she could make a very nice living doing what she loved. More than anything, she wanted to be self-sufficient. She didn’t ever want to have to depend on a man—or her family—to take care of her. She’d take care of herself, thank you very much.

  Maybe one day she’d meet a man who wasn’t a snake, one who would accept that she had a career she intended to nurture, that she was a little old-fashioned, that she wanted things in her home and her life to be a certain way and while she was willing to compromise she wasn’t willing to change for any man. Was it too much to ask that a man not drink out of the milk carton, that he put his socks in the hamper and for goodness’ sake put the toilet seat down when he was finished?

  Her list of requirements changed and morphed as she grew older. No jocks, no kids, a height of less than six feet tall—wait, that was now five foot ten—neatness, a sense of humor. Good strong genes, an awareness of his own health—she could not abide a man who lived on cheese doodles and beer—and they really should be sexually compatible. It wasn’t enough to know what went where; she wanted fireworks in the bedroom. She wanted a man who could blow the top of her head off.

  Nearly thirty years old, and she’d had two serious relationships and one that could’ve been serious if it had lasted more than six months. None of them had come even close to fulfilling all her requirements. She was always disappointed. Did she expect too much? No, she didn’t think so. Compromise was a part of life, but when it came to the all-important choice of a life mate, compromise was not a good idea. She’d tried that, hadn’t she? It was like a recipe and though there was room for experimentation, using the best ingredients gave the best results.

  No one had ever come close to blowing the top of her head off.

  The current train of thought was not helping her to finish her article.

  Lauren had to consider the possibility that she’d never meet the right man, that she was too demanding, too difficult, too set in her ways to make room for any man in her life. She hadn’t relaxed her standards in recent years. In fact, the list of requirements was growing longer, not shorter. Perhaps she should just settle on remaining unwed and devoting herself to her career. It wasn’t like she was lonely. She had friends, family, coworkers she didn’t see often, since she did most of her work at home. All she was really missing by not having a man in her life was sex.

  Yes, she missed sex, but she wasn’t willing to sleep with just any man to satisfy that particular itch.

  Naturally, thinking of sex took her mind directly to Cole Donovan. In fact her mind whipped in that direction entirely, and her hands quit moving over the keyboard. She could not think of squash casserole and hold the image of her neighbor naked in her mind at the same time. Not that she had the actual memory to hold on to, but her imagination was quite vivid, and she had seen him shirtless. Once. The way his jeans fit gave her a very good idea of the shape of his butt, the strong thighs, the narrow hips. Those memories gave her more than enough to build on, a solid base upon which to expand. The resulting imagining was enough to take her mind off squash and Gran’s Sunday suppers.

  It was true enough that she didn’t have time for a romantic relationship, and goodness knew Cole had his hands full with…life. He already had girlfriends, plural, and she was not one to put herself in a position where she had to compete for a man. But at the same time, it would be a shame to ignore what they obviously felt. Her mind took a huge and unexpected leap. Was it possible that they could be neighbors with benefits?

  Lauren took a deep breath, dismissed the thought from her mind, and did her best to return to the subject of squash casseroles. What was wrong with her? Cole Donovan had a series of girlfriends, and she wasn’t about to try to compete with the gorgeous Tiffany. Or any of the others. If he wanted benefits—and what man didn’t—he didn’t have to turn to her. He had options. Besides, even though her mind had taken that unexpected leap, Lauren wasn’t the type of woman to get involved in casual sexual relationships. Never had been. Honestly, without love, why bother?

  Not that Cole was interested. Even though there had been a moment—okay, more than one moment—when their eyes had caught and she’d felt a wash of something unexpected and exciting, Cole hadn’t come over or called since Justin’s accident almost a week ago. He’d left the lasagna and cobbler dishes on the front porch and departed without even ringing the bell. She’d just found them sitting there, scrubbed clean and waiting for her to discover them when she went out for the mail. He’d walked into the backyard to talk to the kids a couple of days ago, while she’d been working in the garden, and he hadn’t even called out a neighborly hello. She’d peeked at him out of the corner of her eye, but all his attention had been on his children. Which was as it should be, she supposed, but still, was a wave of his hand in her direction too much to ask for?

  He wouldn’t even look at her, much less…

  Just as well. Cole probably never put the seat down, and she was almost positive he was the kind of man who drank out of the carton. He failed miserably in regards to several very important details on her list—in fact, he was the antithesis of her list! His life and hers were so different, they were so entirely incompatible, that it was foolish of her to sit here and imagine him naked.

  She tried to turn her thoughts to squash, again, but her mind continued to wander.

  Sadly, she’d really hoped to catch a glimpse of Tiffany, or one of the others, just to see for herself what Cole Donovan’s type was. She expected big hair and big boobs. She’d seen nothing. Maybe he waited until his kids had gone to bed before he had his women over. It was the least he could do, in her opinion. Unfortunately that meant such visits were also made past her bedtime.

  Lauren almost decided she should probably—maybe—let Gran set her up with the grandson of one of her friends at the retirement home, maybe the divorced lawyer, Buddy Whatshisname…. Fortunately, she wasn’t yet desperate enough to allow herself to be set up by her grandmother.

  The operative word being yet.

  Lauren was momentarily distracted by a particularly piercing scream from next door. Not only did she not jump out of her skin, she didn’t even bother to go to the window and look outside to see what had happened. Already she could distinguish the screams of pain from the screams of delight, even though there was little difference in pitch and volume. That scream had been one of joy. Hank, if she was hearing correctly. The one child of the three who actually liked her.

  Yet a
nother reason to keep her distance from Cole Donovan. His life was complicated. Nothing and no one would ever come before those kids, and she could only admire him for that. Still, she was very aware that there was no room in his life for her. Not even as a neighbor with benefits.

  Her life wasn’t entirely bereft, socially. Tomorrow night she was having dinner at Summer’s house, just a little something to make up for the fact that Lauren had missed the neighborhood barbecue because she’d run off to help Cole when Justin had been hurt. Summer had two girls and a full-time job, so they didn’t get many chances to really talk.

  Lauren never went to anyone’s home for a meal empty-handed. She’d told Summer that she’d provide the dessert. Chocolate cake, maybe. Or banana pudding. Maybe she’d make another peach cobbler. Maybe all three.

  Once this article was off she’d need something to do, something that required all of her brain cells in order to keep her mind off Cole Donovan. Her grandmother’s recipe for double-chocolate triple-layer fudge cake would require a trip to the grocery store and hours in the kitchen. Just what she needed—a high-calorie distraction.