The Husband Recipe

“Why not?” Justin asked.

Yeah, Cole thought. Why not?

“I’m a very busy woman,” Lauren said. “I have no time for dating.”

“Oh,” Justin said. He looked more than a little relieved, and surely Lauren noted the fact. “Dad doesn’t date, either.”

Just a few minutes later, Meredith and Hank ran out of the house. They were both dressed in khaki shorts and plain T-shirts, and Meredith carried a towel, a clean T-shirt for her dad and a well-worn blanket.

“I locked the door,” Meredith called as she ran for the backseat and her little brother.

Lauren took charge without missing a beat. She took the towel from Meredith, peeled back the bloody T-shirt and placed the towel against Justin’s wound, pressing down with one hand while with the other she snatched away Cole’s keys without even glancing his way. Sneaky woman.

“You can’t possibly drive,” she said. “You’re shaking like a leaf.”

Cole wanted to argue that he was perfectly capable of driving, but he didn’t. She was right.

“Besides, they’re doing construction on Governor’s Drive, and I know a shortcut to the E.R.”

Cole climbed into the backseat with Justin and Hank, and Meredith took the front seat, beside Lauren. He pulled on the clean T-shirt before repositioning Justin so he could hold him as he put pressure on the wound. Cole was grateful to be able to hold on to his son while someone else drove them to the E.R., but at the same time a little warning bell went off in his head.

He could do this alone. He didn’t need anyone but his children. And to become dependent on his pretty neighbor at this point in his life would be foolish beyond belief.

Lauren shivered. Knowing how cool the E.R. would be, she should’ve grabbed a sweater. Her toes were cold. Her arms were cold. At the same time, she knew if she’d run inside her house to collect anything, Cole would’ve taken off without her.

Without a shirt. Was it wrong of her to have taken note of how amazing he looked without a shirt? Sculpted muscles, wide shoulders, slightly hairy chest, not even a hint of a pot belly. This was a crisis, and all of her attention really should’ve been on the injured child. And to be fair, she’d only given a shirtless Cole Donovan a small bit of her attention. Just enough to note that he must still work out, because muscles like that did not come from folding laundry and eating chicken fingers. Just enough to be surprised that he had a tattoo on his shoulder—a small baseball with flames shooting out behind it, as if it were flying past a particularly nice muscle.

Cole and Justin had been taken back a while ago, leaving Lauren in the waiting room with a sullen Meredith and a scared Hank. Meredith actually leaned away from Lauren, and probably would’ve taken another seat if there had been one available. On a holiday weekend the E.R. was packed, and the only empty chair was next to a dubious-looking character. Lauren was relieved that she ranked above a constantly mumbling man with a scraggly beard and a nasty rash.

Hank was another story entirely. He leaned into Lauren, resting his head on her arm, taking her hand and holding on. Somehow he managed to hang on without ever being entirely still. He hadn’t said much, but his attitude toward her was decidedly warmer than his sister’s.

Eventually he lifted his head and looked up at Lauren with the biggest blue eyes she’d ever seen. He had his father’s eyes. In fact, Hank and his younger brother were both little carbon copies of their dad. And he whispered, “Justin’s not going to die, is he?”

Lauren’s heart broke for the child. “Oh, no, honey. Justin is going to be just fine.” She should’ve said something before now, should’ve soothed the child’s fears hours ago, but she hadn’t even considered that they’d be worried the injury was more serious than it was. Deadly serious. “He’ll have a boo-boo on his head, and he might have a headache for a while, but he’s going to be just fine.”

Meredith scoffed and muttered, “Boo-boo?”

Lauren ignored her.

“My mother is dead,” Hank said. “I don’t remember her, but Dad shows me pictures and tells me stories about her.”

Lauren felt as if a brick had settled in her chest. She didn’t know what to say, what to do to soothe a child who knew more about death than he should. “I know,” she whispered.

“Dad told us not to run around the pool,” Hank said, relaxing visibly. “But one of the other kids started chasing Justin, and he just …”

“She doesn’t care, Hank,” Meredith said coolly. “Don’t talk her ear off.”

It would be easiest just to ignore Meredith and settle back into silence. But these kids and their father were going to be her neighbors for a long while. It would be easiest if they could find a way to get along.

Lauren didn’t let go of Hank’s hand, but she turned toward Meredith and gave the young girl her full attention. Meredith must look like her mother, because she didn’t look much like Cole at all. The nose, maybe a bit through the mouth. But she had blond hair and dark brown eyes, and a heart-shaped face that was almost pixielike. She was almost as tall as Lauren. And right now there was so much anger on that pretty face. “I do care,” Lauren said softly.

“You’re just trying to impress my dad.” Meredith turned her head so she was no longer looking at Lauren. “He’s famous, and you don’t have a husband or a boyfriend, and if you’re nice to us it’s just because you want to impress him.”

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