The Husband Recipe

“Lasagna and peach cobbler,” she said. “The cobbler can sit out for a while, but the lasagna needs to go in the refrigerator.” She gave him quick instructions on how to heat it up for supper, then backed toward the door.

“Wait one minute,” Cole said, and he turned toward the back of the house and called the kids’ names, one at a time. They came running, smiling and laughing, their usual boisterous selves, but when they saw Lauren they skidded to a stop and their smiles died.

“We didn’t do anything!” Justin said indignantly.

“Yeah,” Hank agreed. “We’ve been playing video games and Meredith is reading some stupid book.”

Meredith didn’t say anything, but her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

Cole let them stew for a minute, then said, “Even though you broke Ms. Russell’s window and stomped all over her garden, she’s brought you supper. Lasagna and peach cobbler. What do you say?”

“I hate lasagna!” Justin said vehemently. “Yuck!”

Hank shuffled his feet and looked at the floor, and Meredith rolled her eyes in that maddening way young girls had. Twelve years old, and he could already see the woman she was going to become. Soon. That vision scared the crap out of him. He wasn’t ready for her to grow up, wasn’t ready for boyfriends and dates and short skirts and makeup. But like it or not, those things were coming.

“I was going to make chicken fingers for supper,” Meredith said.

Like frozen chicken strips could hold a candle to homemade lasagna—an observation he didn’t dare make out loud. “The chicken fingers can wait for another day. I want you all to thank Ms. Russell.” He gave them a glare his neighbor couldn’t see, since his back was to her. It was a rarely used glare that told the kids he was serious. He’d spoiled them for too long; he’d indulged them, trying to make up for the fact that he was all they had. Just last year he’d realized that he’d done that, and he was trying to undo the damage. It was a slow process.

Meredith was the first to speak. “Thank you, Ms. Russell.” Her chin was lifted a touch too high, which made her appear defiant even though her words were proper enough. Her eyes were anything but friendly.

Hank was antsy. The middle child was never still, unless he was sleeping. “I like lasagna,” he said, taking his eyes off the floor to peek up at their neighbor and give her a gentle, oddly charming, mostly toothless smile. “And I’m really tired of Meredith’s chicken fingers. Thanks.”

Justin, the stubborn one, sighed. “Thank you, Ms. Russell. For the peach cobbler.” The youngest—who would live on chicken strips and honey mustard if given the option—was doing his best not to look directly at his father.

“Why don’t y’all call me Miss Lauren,” their neighbor said. “After all, I imagine we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.” She looked directly at Justin. “I’m very sorry to hear that you don’t like lasagna. Tell me, what do you like? Just in case I cook for you again, I should know.”

Justin wasn’t shy about answering. “I like chicken fingers, hot dogs and Pop Tarts and chocolate chip cookies and ice cream.” He lifted a stubby little finger. “But not butter-pecan ice cream. Yuck. That’s worse than lasagna.”

Lauren worked to suppress a smile. Her lips firmed as she resisted, but Cole could see the laughter in her eyes. It was a good—and oddly enticing—look for her. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Cole dismissed the kids and they returned to their activities, leaving him alone with Lauren—and the food. She took a step back, toward the door. It was almost as if she was trying not to look directly at him.

“Thank you again,” he said. “You really didn’t have to, but we’ll enjoy it.”

She nodded, and still her eyes were everywhere but on him. Had he done something to piss her off? He couldn’t think of anything he might’ve done to make her nervous, but she was definitely uncomfortable. Out of her element. She’d been fine when he’d answered the door, okay when the kids had been with them, but now that they were alone again it was like she couldn’t wait to get away.

“You can just drop the pans off on the porch when you’re finished with them,” she said. “No rush. I have more than enough cookware.”

Cole peeked beneath the warm cloth that covered the food. Sure enough, the food had been prepared and delivered in heavy glass dishes instead of disposable aluminum foil. No wonder the basket weighed so much!

When he returned his gaze to Lauren, he found her no longer avoiding him. In fact, she stared right at him and for a moment, a long, lingering, uncomfortable moment, she looked as if she were completely and totally lost and confused. He recognized the pained expression on her pretty face because he saw it in the mirror almost every day.

It took all of Lauren’s discipline not to run home and slam the door behind her. She walked with purpose, almost positive that someone was watching her through a window or from the front porch. Tempted as she was, she didn’t run and she didn’t look back.

She should’ve just let things go. If she hadn’t decided that the family next door could use a good meal and she needed to make amends, she might not have suffered that moment of clarity. She might’ve simply resigned herself to the increased neighborhood noise and looked forward to school starting in a few weeks. Once school began she’d have several quiet hours every day.

But for a moment, a long, horrifying moment, she had suffered. Her life was perfect. She loved her job. She loved her house. She had friends and family, though in her small family only Gran lived close enough to see on a regular basis. Lauren never ever missed having a man in her life. She didn’t have time for a man, didn’t want one, didn’t miss the messy complications of a romantic relationship. She remembered too well what it had felt like to lose what she’d thought was love, to have the rug pulled out from under her. One day she’d meet a man and fall in love, though next time she intended to be more careful, to be cautious and wait until her career was more well established and then … only then …

A man with three kids was not in her plan. Not only was the time not right, she had no intention of taking on an entire family. Perhaps one day she’d have a child of her own. One, when the time was right. Preferably a little girl, but a son would be acceptable. Not that she planned to rush into anything. She wasn’t yet thirty. There was plenty of time to find the right man, wait a while to make sure she wasn’t mistaken this time around, and only then, perhaps, a child.

Her life was carefully ordered, and though she’d only admitted so to a few close friends, she had a wish list for the perfect man. Among the requirements were no jocks and no kids. Jocks were often self-centered and since she wasn’t at all interested in sports that would be a problem right off the bat. Stepchildren were always a complication. Why ask for trouble?

But she’d watched Cole Donovan as he’d spoken to his children, and her heart had done a decided flip. She’d felt a flutter in her chest. She’d also felt an unexpected flutter a good bit lower. Why was it that a totally unsuitable man who obviously loved his children made her biological clock kick into gear as if it had been jump-started with an electric jolt?

The broad shoulders, big hands and blue eyes hadn’t helped matters at all. The way his jeans fit and the fascinating muscles in his forearms had been an unwanted distraction. She’d noticed that he’d recently shaved, and the sharp line of his jaw was more than a little interesting. She’d very much wanted to reach out and touch him, just lay one finger on a muscle or that nice jaw to see how warm he was, how hard.

Not only that, the way Justin had looked into her eyes as he’d made it very clear that he didn’t like lasagna had grabbed her heart and made her fight off an inappropriate smile. Hank was absolutely charming, and Meredith was a beautiful girl with vulnerability too easily seen, in spite of her attempt at cold dismissal.

His house was a mess, his kids—charming though they might occasionally be—were uncontrollable, and the disruption of having this family next door was ruining Lauren’s once neatly organized life.

But she couldn’t deny that they possessed something she didn’t. There had been so much love in the room that it had washed over her like a tidal wave. She hadn’t expected that strong emotion, hadn’t wanted it, and she certainly didn’t want to be a part of it.

Who was she kidding? She would never be a part of anything like what she’d discovered at the house next door. It wasn’t in her plan, didn’t fit into her life, and any strange compulsion she had to cook for Justin and touch Cole Donovan had to be squelched. Now.

They hadn’t had a meal like this one since they’d moved away from Birmingham and Janet’s frequent offerings. Even though Cole had told her time and time again that it wasn’t necessary for her to cook for them, he’d looked forward to the meals his sister-in-law had prepared for them. He’d tried to learn, and he had mastered a few basics, but he wasn’t a very good cook. Meredith was going to surpass him in the cooking department in no time.

Though Justin had insisted that he didn’t like lasagna, after watching his sister and brother dive into theirs he’d taken a hesitant bite. Now he was relishing his food, just as Hank and Meredith were. The frozen stuff he’d tasted a time or two couldn’t hold a candle to this.

Hank scraped the last of what was on his plate onto his fork, shoved it into his mouth, and before he swallowed he said, “I think you should date her, Dad.”

Cole automatically reminded his middle child not to talk with food in his mouth, and then he added, “I don’t date.”

“What’s a date?” Justin asked.

Meredith answered, “It’s when a boy and a girl, or a man and a woman, go out to eat and to a movie. Sometimes they might dance, or go bowling or something.” She kept her eyes on her plate.

Hank added, “And then they kiss.”

“I want to go on a date,” Justin said. “But without the kissing. Yuck. Maybe Miss Lauren would take me to the new movie with the talking hamsters and then we could get ice cream. Would that be a good date?”

Meredith took a deep breath. “You’re too young for Miss Lauren,” she said bitterly. “She wants to date Dad, which is why she brought over lasagna and dessert and stared at him like he was one of the Jonas brothers, and do you really think this food was intended for us? No, she wants to show off what a good cook she is, and how pretty she is, and if we hadn’t been here she probably would’ve jumped all over Dad and kissed him …”

“Meredith,” Cole snapped. “That’s enough.”

Hank didn’t help matters by throwing in a series of smacking sounds. Sounds that ended abruptly when Cole gave him a narrow-eyed glare.

Meredith stared at her plate, but didn’t entirely give up the fight. “First we move away from Aunt Janet and all our friends, and now we have Miss Lauren next door trying to change everything. I’ll bet if Justin threw up on her she’d run away crying just like that other woman you dated.”

Cole started to chastise his daughter again, and then he saw the lone tear running down her cheek. “That was a long time ago, Mer. I don’t date anymore. Who has the time?” And to be honest, the memory of those few dates was enough to warn him away from trying again too soon. Being a full-time dad and trying to have a social life that didn’t include his kids didn’t mix.

“Nothing’s going to change,” he said evenly. “I know the house is different, and I’m starting a new job, and you’re going to have to make all new friends here in Huntsville, but when it comes to this family …” He knew what Meredith feared, had seen it before. Of the three kids, she was the only one who remembered their mother. Hank and Justin had been too young, but Meredith had been seven. She remembered her mother. Worse, she remembered the pain of losing her mother.

“Nothing and no one will ever come between the four of us. We’re a family, and that can’t be changed.”

“We’re the Four Musketeers!” Hank said, emphasizing the importance of this designation by standing on his chair and lifting his fork high, as if it were a sword.

Great. Another fantasy that called for a cape.

“We don’t need Miss Lauren,” Meredith whispered. “We don’t need anyone.”

“No,” Cole said, his heart sinking unexpectedly. He didn’t want to live the rest of his life alone, and he sure as hell didn’t enjoy living like a monk. There was something special about Lauren Russell, something that spoke to him in a way no woman had in a very long time. He barely knew her, but since she’d come to his door fuming mad and still in her pajamas, he’d found himself thinking about her more than he should. She was cute, she was smart, she could cook, she had a really nice ass. She made him smile. What man wouldn’t think about her? But it wasn’t enough. This was his life, for now.

“We don’t need anyone.” He ordered Hank to sit and added, “Four Musketeers is enough.”

Chapter Four

Lauren had lived in her house for three years now, and she never missed the neighborhood Fourth of July cookout. She’d missed the Christmas party once, thanks to a nasty cold she hadn’t wished to share with her neighbors, and she skipped as many of the annual homeowner’s association meetings as was possible, but she truly looked forward to the annual cookout.

Her potato salad and homemade cookies were always a hit, and it wasn’t as though she got to see her neighbors on a regular basis. Everyone led busy lives; they were constantly on the go. If not for the occasional get-together, she wouldn’t know her neighbors at all.

This year Cole Donovan was the newest arrival on the block, so he was the center of attention. Most of the men and several of the women knew very well who he was. More of them followed baseball than Lauren had imagined. They hadn’t needed to look up Whiplash to find out who he was. No, they’d known him on sight.

He stood in the center of a tight circle of people and answered questions, now and then glancing toward the pool where his kids swam with other neighborhood children. There were lots of children in the neighborhood, but until the Donovans had moved in none of them had been so close by, or so loud. Most of the children who were of an age to be boisterous were in some kind of day care, since so many of them came from two-income families. Lauren couldn’t help but wonder if she’d now be tuned in to every distant scream and peal of laughter.

She’d been talking recipes with several of the women from the neighborhood while the men all gathered in a knot with Cole at the center. As she had since arriving, Lauren tried not to look at Cole, but she’d seen enough to know that he’d been initially uncomfortable with the attention, though that discomfort was fading as he relaxed and got to know the other men. Lauren smiled and laughed and contributed to the conversation in this part of the large yard. Talk was currently on the evils and benefits of carbs in the diet. All the while, she did her best to act as if she and Cole had never even met. Not that she had to bother. He didn’t pay her the least bit of attention. His neglect stung more than she was willing to admit, even though she knew it was for the best.

She had not chosen the white shorts and simple white sandals and brand-new turquoise tank with him in mind, though she had instinctively passed over the denim shorts that sagged in the butt and the oversize T-shirt she sometimes wore when she worked in the garden for something more attractive. She’d used more mousse and hairspray than usual, and her hair was down, instead of up in the ponytail that would’ve been more appropriate for such a hot day. But that had nothing to do with the fact that her neighbor was going to be here. Nothing at all.

Some of the men peeled away from the circle to tend the grills, while Juliet Smith and a couple of her closest friends scurried off to the kitchen to make a few last-minute arrangements. Children of all shapes and sizes ran and laughed and splashed in the pool. Without looking, Lauren could pick out the screams of the Donovan children. They were the loudest, and they were strangely and disturbingly familiar.

Summer Schuler, who lived several doors down on the opposite side of the street, sidled up to Lauren and smiled as she leaned in very close. “Your new neighbor is a hunk and a half.”

“Is he?” Lauren said coolly. “I hadn’t noticed.”

Summer laughed, then took a long swig of sweet iced tea from her red plastic cup. “You’re very together, Lauren, but you’re not blind. And you’re a terrible liar to boot. Of course you’ve noticed. He’s single, you’re single….”

“He has three children whose only operating speed is full blast….” Lauren added.

Summer laughed again and placed a friendly hand on Lauren’s arm. “No man is perfect.”

And didn’t Lauren know that well enough….

Summer lowered her voice. “I know he doesn’t exactly fit all the requirements on your list, but he is healthy. And I’m sure he has a wonderful sense of humor.”

“He’s a jock, he has three kids and he’s too tall.”

Summer’s eyebrows shot up, and not for the first time Lauren had the thought that Summer was improperly named. She had black hair, black eyebrows, dark brown eyes. She didn’t look at all like a Summer. “You’ve added a height requirement?”

“He should be no more than five foot ten. Five-eleven, tops.”

“Why?”

“I shouldn’t get a crick in my neck every time I talk face-to-face with a man who’s a part of my life.”

“Girl, you have gone off the deep end. You’d throw a man over for a couple of inches?” Summer bit her lower lip. “Let me rephrase that. It’s not like Donovan is freakishly tall, or anything. He’s very nicely proportioned.”

Didn’t she know it….

“Invest in a pair of really high heels,” Summer suggested with a grin.

Lauren’s initial thought had been a stepladder, but heels would be more practical. She hadn’t worn really high heels in years, but she wondered …

Summer continued while Lauren’s mind was on shoe shopping. “You need to toss that list. Finding a man isn’t like making a cake. There’s no recipe for a husband, no list of necessary ingredients.”

Lauren started a bit, jerked out of her shoe-related thoughts. Husband? Who’d said anything about a husband?

The piercing scream that followed the thought caused Lauren’s gut to turn over. She—and everyone else present—turned toward the scream, which was followed by a moment of horrifying silence.

All the children who stood by the pool were very still, for a change. Those in the water treaded in place. One child was down, there at the side of the pool near the steps. Down and completely still. The scream had been Meredith’s.

Cole broke away from the group of men and ran. Others were soon right behind him. Lauren drifted in that direction, though she was certain Cole Donovan didn’t want her help. There were more than a dozen adults present, and judging by the way he’d ignored her today, not even so much as nodding his head in her direction or waving halfheartedly or making eye contact, he’d prefer assistance from any neighbor here before he called on her. Besides, most of the adults here had children, or grandchildren, and surely they’d been through disasters like this one before. They’d know what to do. They were much better equipped than she was to help out.

And still, Lauren moved forward. There were too many people in the way, but she had to know who was down. She elbowed her way past the hefty man who’d moved into the two-story at the end of the street last year and ducked around a surly teenager dressed all in black. Her eyes soon found Hank and Meredith in the crowd, so the one who was hurt was Justin, the little one. The one who didn’t like lasagna—who didn’t like her.

Cole squatted down, examined his youngest son, then whipped off his T-shirt and pressed it against Justin’s temple. He scooped up his son and stood in one smooth motion. Blood ran down one side of the little boy’s face, in spite of the makeshift bandage, but he was conscious and talking. Lauren couldn’t hear what Justin was saying, but she noted that while he had begun to cry he was not hysterical.

His father was another matter. Cole had gone pale. The hands that held his son were shaking. Subtly, but she saw the tremble even from a distance. A couple of people tried to help, but Cole practically bit their heads off as he headed out of the yard at a fast clip, his long legs carrying him away from the party. Meredith and Hank followed. Meredith was crying, too, and she explained in a trembling voice that she’d reminded Justin not to run but he hadn’t listened. Again, someone asked if they could help and Cole said no. He barked no. They were going to the hospital for the stitches Justin obviously needed.

T. J. Smith offered to drive, but Cole shook him off with an expression that cut everyone out, that built a barrier around him and his family and left no room for intruders.

Lauren stood completely still for a moment. She didn’t need to get involved. Cole didn’t want her—or anyone else—to intrude. Justin was conscious, and head wounds did bleed a lot. The child needed stitches, but he’d be fine. He hadn’t lost consciousness, which was a good sign. Right? That was all true, but dammit, there was no way she could let Cole get in the car and drive, not in his condition.

She turned to Summer. “I have to go.” Lauren didn’t give her friend a chance to respond, she just turned and ran, cutting around the other side of the house and across the street to intercept Cole and his crew.

It was a simple gash, bleeding heavily but not life threatening. So why was his heart beating so hard that he couldn’t see straight? The sight of all that blood on Justin’s head and face made Cole’s stomach turn. A part of the T-shirt he’d pressed to the wound was already soaked through. He couldn’t bear it if anything happened to his son. He couldn’t live with himself if it turned out Janet was right and he was incapable of raising these three kids alone.

If she found out what had happened, would she try to take the kids away from him? He sometimes suspected that she wanted to, and he knew she’d been angry that he’d moved two hours away, taking all she had left of her sister with him. She hadn’t made a secret of her displeasure.

His worse fear was that Janet might be right, that he might not be enough for his family.

He threw open the door to the minivan and carefully deposited Justin on the backseat. He didn’t want to let go of the kid, didn’t want to leave Justin—a ball of fire who was currently pale and bloody and not at all himself—alone. The door on the other side opened and Meredith jumped in. Cole reached into his pants pocket and grabbed his keys, glad they were in his pocket as usual and not sitting on the dresser or hanging on a key rack where he’d have to retrieve them. Nothing could slow him down, nothing could stand between him and help for his son.

Cole had just swung open the driver’s door when a sharp ‘Wait’ made him freeze in his tracks. His neighbor Lauren ran to the van. Without asking if he wanted or needed help she started issuing orders. “Meredith, you and Hank run inside and throw on dry clothes. Grab a clean shirt for your father. The hospital keeps the air at full blast in the summertime, and y’all will catch a cold if you go in wearing your swimsuits.” As they ran for the front door, which Cole had left unlocked since they were going to be right across the street, Lauren yelled after them. “And bring a clean hand towel and a blanket for Justin.”

Justin lifted his head and glared at Lauren. It looked to Cole as if the bleeding had already slowed. “I knew you wanted to date my dad. You’re not going to kiss him, are you?”

Lauren looked a little surprised—her eyebrows lifted slightly, and her lips thinned—but she responded calmly. “First of all, a trip to the emergency room isn’t a date, and secondly, I don’t date.” She didn’t mention the kiss.