The Single Dad's Family Recipe Read online

  Then he took a teaspoon, dipped it into the saucepan and held it out for her. She took the spoon, brought it up to her lips and almost orgasmed on the spot as the flavors melted on her tongue. “I don’t think it needs any more experimentation,” she said. “The balance between bourbon, vanilla and maple is exquisite. It will go perfectly with pancakes.”

  “Then let’s make some and see.”

  She raised an eyebrow at him. “I hope by let’s, you mean you.”

  He chuckled. “Pancakes are easy.”

  She snorted. “Easy for you maybe.”

  He grabbed an apron off a hook on the wall and held it out toward her. “Put this on. I’ll show you. We’ll keep it simple and just make the plain variety.”

  “You’re going to regret this,” Eliza said, but she found herself reaching out and taking the apron from him. Their hands brushed against each other in the process and she tried to distract herself from the little jolt inside her as they did so. The late hour and lack of sleep was obviously messing with her head.

  “How come you don’t have to wear one of these?” she asked as she lowered it over her head and began to knot the ties behind her back.

  “Because I don’t care about my clothes, whereas yours look nice.”

  She felt his gaze on her as he spoke and awareness spread across her skin, but once again, she tried to ignore it. Probably she was imagining the heat in his eyes anyway. His ex-wife looked like a supermodel, so he’d hardly find someone like her attractive.

  “What? These old things?” She injected a lightness she didn’t feel into her voice. But they were old—if she’d known her legs were going to lead her to her boss, she might have made more of an effort choosing a nicer outfit.

  He shrugged one shoulder and gestured to his clothes, which she saw were covered in splashes of various ingredients. “Either way, I think for me the horse has bolted. Now, shall we get started?”

  “Yes.” She averted her gaze from his fitted T-shirt. “But only if you promise not to fire me if I burn down your kitchen.”

  He laughed and shook his head. “I think you’re going to surprise yourself.”

  Together they collected the ingredients from the pantry and got out a frying pan. She was hoping his lessons would be more watch and learn, but he talked her through every step of the process—making her sift the flour three times, add pinches of salt and baking powder, a spoonful of sugar, and then mix milk, egg and a “dash of vanilla” together before whisking the combo into the flour.

  “My arm is killing me. Are you sure this isn’t whisked enough yet?” After two minutes, her muscles throbbed with the unexpected exertion.

  “The secret to fluffy pancakes is in the whisking—no one ever does it as long as they should.”

  “You’re a slave driver.” She pouted as she continued, secretly enjoying the task.

  He grinned as if pleased by this description. “Okay, that’s probably enough,” he said a few moments later. “Now taste the batter to ensure it doesn’t require any more sugar or salt.”

  He passed her a teaspoon, which she dipped into the mixture and then brought to her mouth.

  “Well?”

  She licked her lips. “I think it tastes good, but I’m no expert.”

  “Yet.” He winked as he took the spoon from her. “Now it’s time to cook them.”

  She swallowed. Making batter was one thing, but her hands shook as he instructed her through placing a dab of butter in the pan and then pouring a measure of batter on top. It sizzled as the batter spread out to the edges of the pan.

  “You’re doing really well,” Lachlan said, his voice low as he stood right next to her and encouraged her like he might a child learning to ride a bike. Only she didn’t feel like a child when she was around him. Anything but.

  “Thanks,” she whispered as they both gazed down at their efforts.

  “There, see those bubbles? That’s how we tell it’s time to flip.”

  Thankfully, he didn’t expect her to do some snazzy trick with the pan but handed her a flipper instead.

  She barely breathed as she slid the flipper under the pancake and lifted it, but as she tried to turn it, the whole thing fell into a heap in the pan. She let out a shriek of annoyance. “See, I’m hopeless.”

  “You’re not going to give up that easily, are you? Come on, we’ll do this next one together.”

  He expertly cleaned the pan of her mess, then tossed another drop of butter in. “Try again.”

  And despite feeling as if this was a lost cause and she was wasting his ingredients, Eliza poured another measure into the sizzling pan.

  Neither of them spoke, watching until it began to bubble, then Lachlan said, “Grab the flipper again.”

  But this time when she picked it up, he placed his hand over hers, then gently guided the utensil under the half-cooked pancake and helped her turn it over properly.

  “There, that wasn’t too hard, was it?” As he spoke, his warm breath tickled her ear and undeniable attraction rippled through her. It had been so long since she’d been this close to a man and it left her feeling a little unsteady on her feet.

  Somehow she managed to reply, “But you did that, not me.”

  “Seriously, Eliza,” he said, turning his head to look at her. “It’s not that hard. You just need to have a little faith in yourself.”

  And somehow—under Lachlan’s kind and patient instruction—she lifted this first pancake out of the pan and onto a plate and then continued on to make a more than passable batch.

  She grinned as she stared at the pile sitting there, begging to be eaten, unable to recall such a sense of achievement in quite some time. Maybe she really had just never had the right teacher before.

  They didn’t bother going out into the restaurant to eat them but piled two plates high, poured his special syrup over the top and then ate them right there, leaning back against the countertop.

  “This is the best midnight snack I’ve ever had,” she said after swallowing the first bite.

  “And you didn’t burn the kitchen down. Next time, we’ll try something a little trickier, like mac’n’cheese. If a girl can cook pancakes and mac’n’cheese, I reckon she’s set for life.”

  She laughed and realized that in the last week working with Lachlan, she’d started to laugh a lot more. She’d started to feel a lot more again—emotions other than sadness and grief. Part of her felt guilty about this fact but another part of her wanted to enjoy it.

  “I was thinking,” she said, “about opening night...”

  But he shook his finger at her. “No talking about work tonight. You’re not on the clock now. I want to know about you.”

  She swallowed, nerves suddenly rushing up her throat. “What do you want to know?” There was only one thing that came to her mind and she didn’t want to talk about that with him. Or anyone.

  A pensive expression lingered on his face a few moments. “Let’s start with the basics. What’s your favorite color?”

  “Pink,” she said with an apologetic shrug. “I guess I never grew out of it.”

  “No wonder you and Hallie get on so well. Mine’s brown.”

  “Brown?” Eliza couldn’t help but scoff. “Whose favorite color is brown?”

  “Mine,” he said defensively. “It’s the color of all my favorite things—chocolate, coffee and...caramel.”

  “Fair enough.” She stifled a smile. “I’m not going to judge you on that. What’s your favorite movie?”

  He took a moment, rubbing his chin between his thumb and forefinger as if this was a difficult question.

  “Let me guess. The Sound of Music?”

  He laughed. “No, but close. Mary Poppins.”

  “Seriously?” She raised an eyebrow. “Now you’re pulling my leg.”

  He shook his head. “Uh-uh.
I swear. The bank scene where all the grumpy old men are floating up near the ceiling, laughing their heads off—sometimes I watch that if I’m in a bad mood or sad about something, and it never fails to brighten my day.”

  She frowned, trying to remember the plot—it had been a long time. “But didn’t someone die in that scene?”

  “Yes, but he died laughing. What better way to go?”

  A lump formed in her throat at the notion of there being any good kind of death—she felt tears welling—but thankfully, Lachlan didn’t seem to notice. “My turn.”

  “What?”

  “It’s my turn to ask a question,” he clarified. “Could your ex-husband cook?”

  She blinked, startled that he’d gone from impersonal, almost-silly questions to something immensely personal.

  “If you can’t cook—or couldn’t,” he added, “because I’m pretty certain I could teach you—I just wondered if he could. Or did you guys mostly eat out?”

  Eliza tried to ignore the tightening in her chest that the conversation was heading to a place she didn’t want it to go. “He was a chef, so yes, he cooked—or we ate out at work. As we were both in the restaurant industry, that’s generally what we did.”

  “Did you work at the same restaurant?” he asked.

  “Yes.” She hoped her one-word answer told him that she didn’t want to talk about her ex. She’d come out to try to escape dwelling on the past and up until now it had done the trick. “Most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to you?”

  He took the bait and within moments, she was laughing. “The night I lost my virginity, I walked my girlfriend back to her parents’ place. We were supposed to have been at the movies but instead we made out in the distillery warehouse. Her mom and dad asked me in for cocoa when we got back and then afterward, as I stood up to leave, the used condom fell from my pocket onto their kitchen floor.”

  “Oh, my Lord, no!” Her hand rushed up to slap her mouth. “Why hadn’t you got rid of it? You weren’t keeping it as some kind of trophy, were you?”

  He screwed up his face. “What kind of sick freak do you think I am?” But he was laughing, too. “No, I didn’t want to dispose of it in the distillery in case my parents found it, so I stuffed it in my pocket, wrapped in tissues, to get rid of later.”

  “What did her parents say?” Eliza almost couldn’t ask the question, she was laughing so hard.

  “I thought her dad was going to shoot me, so I feigned shock as if it was the first time I’d ever seen a condom in my life. I said it must have been on the bus and stuck to my butt when I sat on the seat or something.”

  She snorted. “And they bought that?”

  “No. Her dad turned and left the room and I thought he might be off to get his gun, so I hightailed it out of there.”

  “Was the girl Linda?” she asked, knowing they’d got together young.

  “Nope. Her name was Rose. Sweet girl, gorgeous inside and out. But after that episode, her parents sent her away to boarding school. Pity... Perhaps if we’d stuck together, I wouldn’t have met Linda.”

  “But then you wouldn’t have Hamish and Hallie.”

  His expression turned serious. “Yeah, that’s true. And I wouldn’t swap them for the world. What’s your most embarrassing moment, then?”

  “I don’t think I want to tell you.”

  He chuckled. “Come on... It can’t be worse than mine.”

  “Oh, it’s not.” She found herself smiling again at the thought of his. “I don’t know if much could top that, but mine involves a restaurant faux pas and I’m worried you might regret hiring me if I tell you.”

  He leaned back in his seat and rubbed his hands together. “Fair’s fair. I told you mine, now you have to tell me yours. Besides, I like nothing better than a restaurant faux pas—as long as it’s not mine.”

  She sighed. “Okay, then. I threw up on a customer.”

  His lovely green eyes widened. “You mean, like...vomited?”

  She nodded slowly.

  “Hey, that’s not so bad. You can’t help being sick. What was it? Gastro or food poisoning? If it was food poisoning, it’s more an embarrassment for the chef.”

  Pregnancy, she almost said, but couldn’t quite bring herself to do so. They were having such a lovely time and if she told him she’d been pregnant, he would ask her what happened to the baby and that answer would end all easy conversation between them from here on in. She liked that he could talk and even joke a bit with her without worrying that he might put his foot in it.

  It’s amazing how many common, everyday phrases related to dying. She’d found that out soon after Jack died. Friends and family would be chatting away and suddenly say something like “I’d kill for a coffee right now” or “it scared me half to death” and then they’d get all flustered and apologize to her for putting their feet in it, when she wouldn’t actually have noticed if they hadn’t pointed it out.

  “Some kind of twenty-four-hour bug,” she said, hoping Lachlan hadn’t noticed her hesitation.

  “Hardly your fault, but yes, embarrassing.” And then, he started to yawn. He tried to cover it but the action made her realize how late it was.

  “I should be getting home,” she said, pushing back her seat and starting to collect their plates. “We’ve got a busy day tomorrow.”

  For a moment, he looked as if he might try to convince her to stay a little longer, but then he, too, stood. “Leave the plates. We can do them in the morning. I’ll drive you home.”

  “No.” The word came out harsher than she meant it to. “I’ve got my bike and I don’t want to put you out.”

  “Your bike will fit in my truck, or you can leave it here and I can come get you in the morning after school drop-off, but there is no way I’m letting you ride home alone at this time at night.”

  “No bogeymen got me on the way over,” she said.

  But he wasn’t taking no for an answer. “You were lucky. But my mom would never forgive me if I didn’t drive you, and more important, I wouldn’t forgive myself. And I’d expect any respectable guy to do the same for my sisters or for Hallie when she’s old enough to sneak out late at night. Now, are we going to stand here arguing about it, or are you going to let me give you a lift, so we can all go home and try to get some rest?”

  “Okay.” She relented. If he was putting her in the same realm as his sister and his daughter, it wasn’t like he’d expect her to ask him in for “coffee.” Part of her actually felt a little disappointed by this fact, but she told herself it was a good thing. She needed a friend and a job more than she needed to complicate her life any more than it already was. Besides, her surprising physical feelings for him were probably simply because he was the first guy (aside from her dad) she’d spent any time with since Tyler.

  “Great. Let me just switch off the lights.”

  Eliza waited by the door as Lachlan turned everything except the security lights off and then they went outside. It was only as he was locking up that she realized his truck was a few hundred yards away at the house.

  “I don’t want to wake your family,” she said as he gestured for her to follow him that way.

  “The kids and Blair sleep like the dead and Mom’s probably still up watching the late-night movie. No more excuses.”

  And although it was dark and he couldn’t see, she smiled. If she’d told him about Jack, he’d now be berating himself and apologizing to her for that sentence. Instead, they walked easily across the gravel to the main house, like two people who had just enjoyed a pleasant evening in each other’s company. And that felt good. Her heart pinched a little with guilt at this, but she told herself to ignore it—this was why she’d moved to Jewell Rock, to learn to live again.

  “Thanks for keeping me company tonight,” Lachlan said ten minutes later as he lifted her bike out of the bed of his truck and se
t it down on the ground in front of her apartment block.

  “Thank you,” she replied. “It sure beat counting sheep.”

  He laughed. “I’m making chocolate, whiskey and bacon chili tomorrow night if you have trouble sleeping again.”

  “What is that?” she asked, unsure whether to grimace or rub her lips together in anticipation.

  He cocked his head to one side and winked. “I guess if you really want to know, I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

  And with that, he turned, swaggered around to the driver’s side and climbed back into the truck. Smiling, she lifted her hand and waved good-night as she started to wheel her bike toward the building. She secured it out front and then turned back to see him still sitting there, watching her. Only when she went inside and closed the door behind her did she hear him finally drive off down the road.

  Chapter Eight

  “You guys all set in here?”

  Lachlan looked up to see Eliza peering her head around the door to the kitchen. Alongside him worked his assistant chef and three of their new kitchen hands ready for the first ever dinner service. They weren’t open yet—the big day was still two weeks away—but Eliza had had the brilliant idea to have a couple of rehearsals. So tonight and next Friday, he’d invited members of his family and the family of his staff to have dinner at the restaurant on him.

  “Yep. We sure are.” He smiled, loving the sight of her in their new uniforms, the McKinnel’s logo in pride of place on her breast pocket.

  “Good. Because our first customers have just walked in the door.” She winked at him and then turned and hurried into the restaurant to welcome them.

  Lachlan gave his kitchen team a quick pep talk and then took a moment to peek out and watch Eliza and the waitstaff welcoming people and leading them over to tables. Behind the bar, their mixologist was ready and waiting to make magic with the drinks. Everyone and everything was exactly as it should be and Lachlan felt a buzz of pride fill his lungs as he looked on. Granted, they still had a few hours and many dishes of food to get through before they could celebrate their night as a success, but with himself in the kitchen and Eliza making sure everything went smoothly in the dining area, he felt as if he could conquer the world, so a simple restaurant should be a piece of cake.