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Authors: Linda Winstead Jones

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BOOK: The Husband Recipe
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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.”

“To be honest, Meredith, your dad
used
to be famous, I don’t want or need a husband or a boyfriend, and I’m nice to you because you’re my neighbor. I don’t go out of my way to impress anyone. Good manners and a willingness to help should be extended to everyone.” Okay, so she was channeling her grandmother on that last one. That didn’t mean it wasn’t true.

“There are baseball cards with his picture on them,” Meredith whispered.

“I don’t collect baseball cards. I really don’t care for the sport much at all. Truthfully, I find baseball to be slow and boring.”

“You swear,” Meredith said sullenly.

“What am I swearing to?”

“That you’re not being nice just to get your hands on my dad.”

Lauren sighed. True, Cole Donovan was the best-looking man she’d seen in a long time, even when he forgot to shave. Something about him caused an instinctive physical reaction that she worked very hard to resist. Good heavens, she was no longer seventeen and unable to control her raging hormones! She could probably write off any physical reaction to him to her ticking biological clock, and the fact that, well, it
had
been a while. But while he might be single, he was not unencumbered. In fact, he was the most
encumbered
man she’d ever met.

“I swear. And if you don’t mind a bit of advice from another woman…you’ll be dating before you know it and I have to tell you, you really can’t go out there thinking you can or should become someone you’re not in order to catch a man. You should always,
always
be yourself, because you don’t want a boy to like you for being someone you’re not.” This was not her forte. “You don’t want to catch a man at all, you want to
find
the right man. Finding and catching are very different, if you think about it. Be yourself, like yourself, and run as fast as you possibly can from any boy who wants you to change. Does that make any sense?”

The expression on Meredith’s face softened considerably. “Kinda.”

“You want a boyfriend who will like you for who you are.”

“Dad says I’m not allowed to have a boyfriend. Ever.”

Lauren smiled. “I’m sure he doesn’t mean it. How old are you?”

“Twelve. Twelve and a half. I’m really
almost
thirteen.”

“You’re a little young now for a boyfriend, but the day will come.”

Meredith squirmed a bit. She shifted more toward Lauren, just as Hank decided to put his head on Lauren’s lap and close his eyes. Finally, he was still.

“You said you don’t date,” Meredith said softly. “Why not?”

Lauren didn’t want to explain to the young girl that she had a bad track record, that she no longer trusted her own instincts where men were concerned, that she was afraid of the pain that could—
would
—follow a bad romance. “My career is very important to me,” she said. “I really don’t have time for dating. There’s more to life than…dating.”

For a long moment they sat there in silence. Hank soon fell asleep, and his breathing became deep and even. Meredith relaxed visibly, her entire body unwinding and her expression softening.

After a while, Meredith said, “Since we’re talking about girl stuff, do you think that, you know, maybe you could teach me how to use makeup? I mean, one day, if you have the time and aren’t doing anything.”

“You have such a beautiful face, you don’t need…” Lauren stopped when she recognized her grandmother coming through again. “If your father agrees, I don’t see why we can’t have a session or two on the proper application of makeup. The trick is to learn to apply it so lightly no one will be able to tell you’re wearing makeup at all. You should look like you, only better.”

For the first time, Lauren saw Meredith smile. That was it, that was what she had of her father. Her smile. Something about it caught Lauren’s heart and held on tight. Meredith leaned against Lauren’s arm and closed her eyes. Hank slept on, oblivious to his surroundings. And Lauren was no longer chilled.

“Maybe you can show me how to make that lasagna, too,” Meredith said softly. “It was really good.”

“You’re very young to be cooking,” Lauren said. “At your age, all I could make was oatmeal cookies and peas and asparagus casserole.”

“Well, Dad’s not a very good cook. I try to help out, when I can.”

Lauren tried to picture Cole in the kitchen. It wasn’t easy. Nothing about him screamed
domestic.
“That’s very admirable, Meredith.”

The young girl grasped Lauren’s arm and relaxed. Her eyes drifted closed. That’s how they were positioned when Cole and Justin returned to the waiting room. Cole remained pale but was no longer shaking, and Justin had a large bandage on his head but otherwise appeared to be fine. For a moment, Lauren’s eyes met Cole’s. She felt a connection to her core, and it was so strong it actually jolted her. He stopped in his tracks, stared into her eyes and almost pulled back, as if he’d felt the same thing.

Attraction. An awareness of one another. A physical response and an instinctive awareness of…possibility.

And absolutely no chance that whatever they felt would actually work in the real world.

Lauren relaxed as she turned onto her street and saw the welcoming light of her front porch ahead. It had been a very long, very
strange
day. She wanted a cup of hot tea, a warm shower, soft pajamas and a good night’s sleep.

She pulled the van into the Donovan driveway. All was quiet, since the kids had all dozed off on the way home, and Cole hadn’t said a word since they’d pulled out of the hospital parking lot.

“Thanks,” he said softly as she shut off the engine. “I don’t know what we would have done without your help.”

“No problem.” She wanted to run for home—tea, shower, pajamas, bed—but as she stepped out of the van and the kids roused, Hank called out.

“Miss Lauren, will you tuck me in?” His voice was sleepy; he’d probably drift back into dreamland the moment his head hit the pillow.

“Miss Lauren’s done enough,” Cole said, his voice perhaps a touch sharp. Maybe that was just exhaustion she heard.

“Please,” Hank said, drawing the word out to the end of a breath. There was so much heart in his voice, Lauren couldn’t say no. She told herself it would be a short delay.

BOOK: The Husband Recipe
4.36Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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