Cory held up the paper with the instructions she’d been writing. “I have a list for you here with his feeding schedule and other pertinent details, but let’s start with the first lesson.” She winked at him. “Diaper changing.”
Jordan shook his head slowly. “I’ve never changed a diaper.”
“I figured as much by the way you conveniently disappear any time he needs to be changed.”
“It’s not convenient. It’s purposeful.”
She laughed as she walked past him and squeezed his arm. “Get ready to become an expert.”
Jordan had never considered becoming an expert on diapers, or anything to do with fatherhood, but he dutifully followed Cory. She was right. He did tend to pick and choose the parenting duties he was comfortable performing.
Mostly he liked being in the role of entertainer, making both Ben and Cory smile with his funny faces or games of peekaboo. Although Cory told him Ben was big for his age, the baby still seemed so breakable to Jordan, especially after what he’d been through.
As soon as they walked into the bedroom, Cory began to talk to Ben, telling him in her soothing voice that he’d be spending the afternoon and evening with Daddy and she knew they’d have lots of fun.
Jordan found her words oddly reassuring, as if hearing her say them out loud made him able to believe they were true.
She stopped in front of the crib that Jordan had borrowed and put together. He needed to do more to make this room welcoming. Before Ben, it had been an overflow storage room, and it certainly didn’t look like a nursery. No doubt Jordan’s mom would notice that immediately.
“So you have to pick him up to change the diaper,” Cory explained in a patient voice.
“He likes you to get him up from a nap,” Jordan argued. “That’s what he’s used to.”
“He’ll get used to his daddy.”
Jordan felt like the biggest fool. How hard was it to be a father? He had plenty of friends who raised kids, both in Starlight and back when he was in the NFL. Huge, hulking bruisers on the field who’d cradle their babies in their arms, mostly like a football, in Jordan’s opinion. But they’d done it.
What the hell was wrong with him?
He swallowed back his irrational fear and leaned over the crib. “Don’t cry,” he commanded, earning a chuckle from Cory.
Ben shoved his fist in his mouth and stared as Jordan lifted the baby into his arms. “Okay, that was easy enough.” He made a face as a rancid scent rose in the air. “Oh no. I think something crawled into the crib with him and died.”
“He probably woke up because he pooped.” Cory smoothed a hand over the boy’s head. “Did Mommy’s big man make a big poopy?”
“I hope Mommy’s not going to make Daddy run the poopy gauntlet his first time out of the gate,” Jordan said, matching her singsong tone.
“One hundred percent you are changing this diaper. Don’t be a wimp.”
He raised a brow. “I have never been accused of being wimpy.”
“I think I just made the accusation.”
“Fine.” He gripped the baby’s torso and held him at arm’s length. “Let’s do this doo-doo duty.”
“So clever,” Cory murmured with a soft laugh.
Jordan shouldn’t like making her laugh as much as he did. Or take so much pleasure in the way she smiled at him. She smiled a lot. He needed to keep reminding himself that he wasn’t special. Not to her.
He placed Ben on the changing pad Cory had brought with her, which sat on top of the pine dresser in the baby’s room. The boy kicked up his feet like he wanted to give Jordan easy access to his dirty bottom.
“I believe in you,” Cory said, placing a hand on Jordan’s lower back. The words were said in a teasing manner, but they meant something. Like her laugh, the vote of confidence made him feel like he could do anything.
He unbuttoned Ben’s one-piece romper but frowned as he pulled the baby’s legs out of the soft fabric, exposing his chest. “He doesn’t have a scar.” Jordan glanced at Cory. “If he had heart surgery...”
“They went in through his back,” she explained, her tone tight. “After you finish the diaper, you can undress him and see it.”
“I wasn’t doubting you,” Jordan quickly told her. “It just surprised me.”
“I understand.”
But it didn’t sound like she understood. “Grab a few wipes,” she told him and proceeded to walk him through changing a dirty diaper while Jordan did his best not to gag or make faces at the mess and the smell.
“How does a kid that small produce so much poop?” he asked as he placed the final wet wipe into the bag Cory had given him.
“You should have seen the blowouts he used to have when he was really young. At least the poop is somewhat contained now.”
Jordan cringed, then picked up a clean diaper as Ben continued to wriggle on the table. He seemed in a much better mood now that the mess had been taken care of, and Jordan couldn’t blame him.
As he started to place the diaper under the baby, Cory moved forward and turned it around. “Tabs go from back to front,” she told him, but he was struggling to focus because she was so close that she was pressed against his side. Awareness zipped through him. They might have only spent one night together, but his body remembered hers.
Damn, he needed to get out more. There was absolutely nothing sexy about changing his baby’s diaper, but he couldn’t seem to stop his reaction. He wanted to be closer to her. He wanted more—more than he knew was right based on their arrangement, and he’d guess far more than she was willing to give.
As they made it through the diaper-changing lesson, Cory patted Jordan’s arm. “Nice work for a newbie,” she said, not meeting his gaze. “I’ll take him while you wash your hands.” Had she sensed his awareness of her or noticed the unexpected intimacy of the moment the way he did?
While he finished washing, she took Ben into the family room, where he sat on a blanket playing with a toy piano in front of him. She’d taken off the baby’s romper, and Jordan sucked in a breath as he noticed the one-inch scar from an incision that ran next to the boy’s spine. “I can’t believe what he went through.” He dropped down on the blanket next to his son and traced one finger along the scar. It had healed but was still pink and looked tender, but Ben didn’t react to Jordan touching it. “He couldn’t have understood what was happening to him.”
“No,” Cory agreed. “But at some level he had to know it was a huge trauma. He fought for his life, Jordan, and he survived. Your son is a survivor. I know you think he’s fragile, which in some ways all babies are. But he’s tough, too. Think about his strength and determination instead of his size or that he’s helpless.” She crouched down next to Jordan and kissed the top of the boy’s head. “I think he gets a lot of that strength from his father.”
When their gazes met, hers was tender. Once again, she seemed to understand exactly what Jordan needed to hear—reassuring him both that the baby was strong and that Jordan had a place in his life. He didn’t understand how Kade had let her go. The guy might have a hell of a throwing arm, but otherwise he was a complete fool.
With her so close that he could feel her breath against his face, it seemed the most natural thing in the world to lean in and brush a gentle kiss across her sweet mouth. It was different from the way he’d kissed her at the bar. This was a vow, a quiet promise that they were in this together. It was a question about what they could mean to each other if they tried.
A question that was answered when Cory pulled away so fast she fell on her bottom, then scrambled to her feet.
“I’m sorry,” he said immediately, even though he didn’t regret kissing her. He couldn’t regret it.
She pressed two fingers to her lips as if his touch had burned her. “I need to go. The instructions are written on the paper on the counter. Call if there’s a
problem.”
“Cory, I didn’t mean to upset you.” Jordan made to stand, but she held out a hand.
“It’s fine. I’m fine.” She flashed a wan smile. “Have a fun boys’ night in.” With a last look at Ben, she hurried from the room.
* * *
“A customer at table five wants to talk to the chef.”
Cory looked up from where she was chopping a celery stalk two hours later as the waitress, Misty, ducked her head like she thought the boss might throw something at her.
Cory didn’t blame her. Madison didn’t speak to her staff as much as she did growl and command. She rarely raised her voice but didn’t need to. Her rigid tone reminded Cory of a military commander—one who wouldn’t tolerate being questioned.
Cory had discovered that the hard way when she’d asked a series of questions about how the different menu items were prepped. Madison had looked at her like she was the biggest fool on the planet. Cory wasn’t sure what it said about her that she didn’t flinch in the face of so much silent condemnation. If the surly chef was trying to chasten Cory, she’d have to work a lot harder. Cory’d grown up with a mother who enjoyed tearing her down for sport. She could handle almost anything.
The same couldn’t be said for Misty, who’d told Cory she’d taken the part-time waitressing job while attending a nearby university. Misty was the first in her family to attend college and wanted to give her parents a little relief on tuition by making extra money.
Cory knew what it was like to work to put herself through school, so she admired the younger woman’s dedication. Actually, Misty was only a few years younger than Cory, although Cory felt decades older. But Misty had also confided that she was thinking of looking for work elsewhere just so she didn’t have to deal with the woman who ran the kitchen.
“Why?” Madison’s eyes narrowed as she pointed a spatula at the waitress. “What did you do?”
“N-nothing,” Misty stammered.
“Are they complaining about the food?”
“I’m not sure. It’s a woman. She seems happy enough. Maybe she wants to pay her compliments to the chef.”
“The chef doesn’t need or want compliments.”
“I’ll go.” Cory wiped her hands on a towel and stepped out from behind the counter. “I can accept a compliment on your behalf and explain that the chef is so humble and shy she doesn’t like to leave the kitchen.”
Misty smothered a burst of laughter as Madison glared at Cory. “I don’t have a shy bone in my body.”
“Or a heart,” Chuck, the other line cook, called from where he was deep-frying wings at the far side of the kitchen.
Cory saw the briefest instant of pain in Madison’s blue gaze before she shuttered it again. “My heart goes into the food. I don’t bother sucking up to customers,” she shot back, then flicked her fingers at Cory. “See what Ms. High-Maintenance wants. If she complains or asks for a comped meal, dump a beer on her.”
“Interesting tactic,” Cory said as she headed for the front of the bar. “But I think I can handle this. Point me to table five,” she told Misty.
The bar was even more crowded than last night. She liked the energy of the place, groups of people together laughing and having fun.
Tanya, who was tending bar on her own tonight, gave her a questioning gaze as she walked by. Cory waved and smiled, then placed a hand on Misty’s arm. “You’re doing a good job handling Madison,” she told her.
“She’s awful.” Misty shook her head. “I know she cooks great food, but is it worth it?”
“Have you tried the fried cheese?” Cory sighed. “It will change your world.”
“I heard you were Jordan’s fiancée,” Misty said as she glanced at Cory. “You must be titanium strong. He’s scary, too.”
“Jordan?” Cory chuckled. “Nah, he’s a big teddy bear.”
Misty snorted, then pointed to a two-topper in the corner. “That’s her. I’m sorry I didn’t figure out what she wants. I got flustered when she said she wanted to talk to the chef, knowing I’d have to ask Madison to come out.”
“It’s fine.” Cory approached the woman with a smile. She’d worked at a diner just off campus all four years of school. There was no customer complaint or irritation she couldn’t handle.
“Hi, I’m Cory. Is there something I can help you with?”
“You aren’t the chef.” The woman frowned at her. She had long, wavy brown hair and was dressed in a bulky cable-knit sweater and leggings. She looked comfortable and still stylish, with understated diamond hoops in her ears. Cory guessed she either had or came from money.
“No,” Cory agreed. “I’m one of the sous-chefs.” To be honest, she didn’t exactly know what that meant, but it sounded better than glorified slave in the kitchen. “The head chef is in the middle of something, so if I can be of assistance—”
“I need a recipe.” The woman pointed to her bowl of beer-braised chicken stew, of which there were only two bites left. “This recipe, to be specific.”
“I’m not sure that’s how it works at a restaurant.” Cory had watched in awe earlier as Madison toasted anise seeds and then blended them in a food processor with a variety of other spices, bathing the kitchen in their heavenly aroma. She’d put together the seemingly simple chicken dish, tonight’s special, in a way that seemed effortless but would have been impossibly demanding to a chef with lesser talent.
The woman shook her head and narrowed her hazel eyes. “Trophy Room isn’t a restaurant. It’s a local dive bar that happens to currently serve the best food I’ve had on three continents.” She held out a hand. “I’m Ella Samuelson. I grew up in Starlight, and I guarantee you can’t get a meal like this anywhere else in town.”
“We’re glad you like it, but I highly doubt the chef will share her recipes. What would keep you coming back?”
Ella’s jaw set in a hard line. “You don’t understand. I have to cook something this amazing in two days. It’s imperative.”
“Why?” Cory asked, and Ella frowned.
“The reason is private.”
“So is the recipe.”
Ella closed her eyes for a moment and drew in a deep breath. “I have a friend coming to town. Toby doesn’t think I can cook. He doesn’t think I can do anything remotely wifeish.”
“Is that a bad thing?” Cory asked, genuinely curious.
“He sees me as one of the guys,” Ella said, her shoulders slumping slightly. “We worked together.”
“Doing what?”
“I’m a nurse. I was a nurse. I’m not anymore.”
“You’re the woman Mara mentioned,” Cory murmured. “Her friend who works as a nanny.”
“Sometimes,” Ella admitted, almost sheepishly. “I’m trying to figure out what my next move is going to be.”
“And you want to put the moves on your former coworker?”
“That sounds pathetic.” Ella scooped up another bite of chicken. “But maybe. Can you get me the recipe?”
Cory opened her mouth to say no, then had an idea. “I might be able to if you join our cooking club.”
Ella blinked. “I gave up clubs in middle school.”
“Don’t be silly.” Cory clapped her hands together. “It will be great.”
“I just need a recipe to make before my friend gets here.”
“Are you normally a good cook?”
“I’ve been a traveling nurse for the past five years. Cooking skills weren’t much of a priority for me.”
“Then learning to cook the dish will be the perfect start.”
“By Saturday?” Ella looked skeptical.
“Our first meeting is this week in the Trophy Room kitchen.”
“Jordan is letting you use his bar for your club?”
Cory laughed, hoping it sounded casual and not manic. “I’m his fiancée. H
e can hardly say no.”
“And the chef will agree to teach me?”
“All of us,” Cory said, nodding.
“How many of us are there?”
“Well, just you and me for now. But Madison’s reputation is huge in Starlight.”
“Her reputation or her food’s reputation? They aren’t the same thing.”
“Do you want to learn how to make the dish or not?” Cory glanced over her shoulder. She was going out on a limb. In fact, she half expected Madison to come charging out of the kitchen to see what was taking her so long.
“I’ll be here to learn to cook.”
“You have to commit to four meetings. Twice a month.”
“Are you making this up as you go along?”
“Maybe.”
“I respect your honesty. Two months of a cooking club. If things work out this weekend with Toby, I’ll need more than one recipe.”
“Yay.”
“Don’t say ‘yay.’ You sound like you’re twelve.”
Ella handed Cory her cell phone. “Text me the details and I’ll be there.”
Cory clasped her hand to her chest as she turned back toward the kitchen. For a person who didn’t like to lie or be assertive, she was certainly turning over a new leaf in Starlight.
It was a leaf she quite liked.
Chapter Nine
“Thanks for coming,” Jordan told Josh Johnson as he stepped back to let the local contractor into his home. Josh had done some work at the bar, and he was Mara’s brother-in-law plus a Starlight native. Although everyone in town was a fan of Josh’s easygoing nature, Jordan didn’t know him well. He’d been somewhat surprised at Josh’s willingness to help with the project Jordan had planned.
“I have insane painting skills,” Josh answered, holding up a bucket filled with brushes and rollers. “My employees are going to love having a staff appreciation happy hour at the bar. That woman you hired is a unicorn in the kitchen. Everything she makes tastes like sunshine and roses.” He grimaced. “Although, I saw her the other day in the grocery and tried to give her a compliment about the mango salsa she served with her fish tacos. She practically ripped my head off.”
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