His to Taste (19 page)

“Jesus!” whined Vince. “Take it easy—I was just joking!” He glanced at me nervously, his beady eyes darting from Jake to me. “I apologize.”

“George,” said Jake. “I tried, but I’ve had enough of this bullshit.”

George nodded knowingly, shrugging.

“Vince, you’ve been misled,” said Jake. “I’m not interested in your offer and Helena’s name will never be attached to any of my work, regardless of her petty machinations.”

“But, Jake, darling,” sputtered Helena. “Please—”

“That was your cue for the two of you to get the hell out of my house.”

“I will not be spoken to like that!”

Ding dong
.

“Now what?” groaned Jake.

“I’ll get it,” I said, grateful for the reprieve.

My jaw dropped when I opened the door and found Grandma and a sheepish-looking Mrs. Rowland.

“Hello, dear!” Grandma breezed past me, clutching at a grocery bag,

“I’m sorry, sweetie,” whispered Mrs. Rowland. “I just couldn’t dissuade her.”

“It’s nice to see you both, but what’s going on?”

“Oh, it’s just a quick visit, dear,” Grandma smiled. “I felt so guilty pulling you away from poor Mr. Cochran tonight so I brought him some goodies to help ease his pain.” Before my bewildered brain processed her words, she had bustled towards the kitchen. “Mr. Cochran,” she called.

Oh, shit.

By the time Mrs. Rowland and I caught up with her, she was already the center of attention.

“Sorry to interrupt,” said Grandma. Turning to George, she said, “You poor, brave man! Hosting a dinner party in your condition. Tsk, tsk.” She plopped the paper bag next to his empty dessert plate. “How are your bowels? When I had my hemorrhoids removed, only prunes, Metamucil, and these witch hazel compresses did me any good. Here, I made you some.”

Speechless, George could only stare as she rummaged through her bag. Patty started chuckling which made him finally erupt with hearty belly laughs.

“Thank you for your consideration, ma’am,” he chuckled, wiping away tears. “But I’m not Mr. Cochran.”

“What?” said Grandma.

“I am,” grinned Jake. “And my bowels are just fine, thank you.” He winked at me and I prayed that a sinkhole would magically appear in that second to swallow me whole.

“What?!” squawked Grandma. “I thought you were an old coot! Have you been taking advantage of my innocent grandbaby?!”

“Grandma!”

“Lynn Strickland,” she said. “Have you been lying to me all this time?!”

I opened my mouth to respond, but no words emerged. All their faces started to blur together, forcing me to shut my eyes. Between Helena’s sniping, the sordid insinuations, and my heartbreak over leaving Jake, Grandma wagging her finger at me was the final straw.

“Grandma, we’ll discuss this later. George and Patty, it was a pleasure meeting you both. Helena and Vince, it was not. Mrs. Rowland, happy birthday.”

Jake stood, heading towards me. I held up my hand and he stopped, frowning.

“Mr. Cochran, thank you so much for everything,” I said. “Goodbye.”

Turning away before he could see the sheen of tears in my eyes, I fled out of the kitchen. Grateful that I had already loaded my suitcase into my car that morning, I grabbed my purse and headed out the door for the final time.

CHAPTER NINE

After a couple weeks of giving myself permission to mope, including wailing along to melodramatic breakup songs, I forced myself to reflect on the craziness of the past couple of months. There are only so many times you can sob along in the shower to Adele’s cover of “I Can’t Make You Love Me” before you start questioning your sanity.

I was so focused on just paying the bills that I never asked myself what type of work would bring me the most joy. While I wallowed in self-pity, baking my favorite cream biscuits became a welcome, familiar distraction. It was soothing to work with the delicate dough. I ended up stuffing Grandma, Mrs. Rowland, and Julia full of them with my baking sprees—not that they were complaining. I started experimenting with different savory flavors, like bacon and cheddar, and parmesan and rosemary. For sweet variations, Grandma loved the chocolate chip version, while Julia kept hoarding the strawberry biscuits. I was partial to the strawberry ones just because Jake always loved my strawberry shortcake; these cream biscuits were the foundation for that particular dessert.

It was easy enough to do a bit of market research as I contemplated starting a small business. If I could have people like the Brooks complimenting my food and asking me for my recipe, then why the hell couldn’t I do this full-time? Other than falling hopelessly in love with my boss, I honestly had a blast feeding people professionally. I could deliver my biscuits to local cafes and restaurants, set up a booth at the local farmer’s market on the weekend, and do private orders.

As soon as I created a business plan, everything fell into place. Once my permits and licenses were processed, I put together a basic website, printed business cards, and started marketing my services online. For a small fee, Mrs. Rowland’s sister gave me access to the kitchen in her diner to bake.

Putting in the hours for baking was the easy part. I hit up every single restaurant and cafe within a ten-mile radius, brandishing a box of fresh samples and a confident smile. Although I garnered plenty of great feedback, I only earned five contracts, but it was a great start. I received tons of referrals from Grandma’s friends at her senior center, while Julia and our other girlfriends generated orders for their offices. With every passing week, I earned more positive reviews online. For two months, Lynn’s Biscuits was my baby and I was so grateful for not only the distraction, but for also having something that was wholly mine.

Initially, it was nearly impossible for me to pretend that I wasn’t devastated. Everything reminded me of Jake; I couldn’t even cook some of the meals that I had made for him. Every little notification from my phone made my chest feel tight in hopeful anticipation, but I knew it was ridiculous to hope it was from him. He obviously had moved on quickly, and it crushed me to know that I was only another notch in his proverbial bedpost. I couldn’t really blame him, though. It was my own fault for reneging on our arrangement; it wasn’t his problem that I had fallen head over heels for him.

Julia took me under her wing and nursed my broken heart with plenty of Haagen Daaz ice cream and glasses of sweet, bubbly Moscato. Grandma refrained from her lectures and I found myself seeking her non-judgmental advice more and more. Once Jake transferred my payment into my checking account, a weight had been lifted from our shoulders along with our financial strain.

As I was checking out the competition’s posts on Craigslist, one of the older headlines caught my eye. Nearly choking on my coffee, I hastily gulped down a swig as I clicked on the link.

Lord Moreland still seeking his AWOL chambermaid. If she doesn’t come back and resume her duties, he’s going to waste away into a pale shadow of a lord. The care packages from the little gray dragon aren’t enough to appease his manly appetites.

Oh, my god. I burst into horrified giggles and scrolled further down.

Officer London seeking his speeding co-ed. She missed her standing appointment with him. If she fails to make her next appointment, he’ll be forced to bring her into his custody with no chance of bail.

Jake. This was unreal. I checked the dates on the listings; they were nearly a month old. I searched for “Moreland,” and came up with a few more posts. The oldest one made my jaw drop.

Lord Moreland desperately seeking his AWOL chambermaid. He found her tower, but her little gray dragon shooed him away. Since the dragon was too adorable to slay, he’ll just have to make do with sending her these missives instead, and hope she’ll forgive him someday.

What the hell. Jake had actually showed up here to find me? The realization stunned me and I could only stare blankly at the screen. I kept re-reading those three sentences until the words ran together. Shock gave way to anger. Why the hell didn’t that adorable little gray dragon bother to tell her damn granddaughter that Jake Cochran had come asking for her?

I found the little gray dragon puttering in the garden. I crouched down beside her.

“Grandma,” I said. “Did I have any visitors recently?”

“You mean your boss, dear?” She continued nonchalantly pruning her tulips.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me! When was he here? What did he say? Oh, god…what did
you
say?” I had to force myself to take a few deep breaths; I knew I sounded like a hysterical teenager.

She finally turned to me and pulled off her gardening gloves. “Calm down, dear.” I let her tug at my arm to go sit beneath the shade. “That gorgeous man showed up on our doorstep a week after you resigned. You were out with Julia. He was polite and contrite, and so very eager to find you.”

“But—”

“No, dear.” Her smile was gentle. “You weren’t ready to see him yet. What you needed was a little time to grow up and find yourself on your own two feet before rushing into anything with him, or with anyone else for that matter.”

“I wish you had let me make that decision myself,” I sighed. My irritation had already dissipated and I knew she was right.

“Your wounds were too raw, dear,” she said. “Trust me. If this man is willing to wait and work for you, then you’ll have the rest of your lives to figure that out. You both needed time away from each other to appreciate what you had. In the meantime, you’ve been blossoming into a mature young woman. I’m so proud of you.”

“I love you, Grandma.” I wrapped her up in a fierce bear hug and she giggled, returning my squeeze.

“I love you, too, dear,” she grinned. “Now go find your hunk. If you don’t want him, then I just might have to schedule my own interview. Where the heck does he think you learned how to make those biscuits, anyway?”

Cracking up, I gave her a quick peck on the cheek, and headed back into the house to change. If I was going to confront Jake Cochran, I was going to look damn good.

CHAPTER TEN

His SUV was parked in the driveway when I pulled up to the curb. I tightened the sash on my trench coat. There was no looking back. My strappy black heels clicked determinedly up the steps. Goosebumps pricked my skin as dusk settled, but my entire body was hot from anticipation. Underneath the coat, my naughty bits were only clad in tiny wisps of black lace.

I pictured Jake staring at my curves in the matching bra and boy shorts. My nipples felt tight and a familiar heat spread low in my belly. With my thick hair straightened into a sleek dark curtain down my back, I knew I looked like I had jut stepped straight out of his novel. I didn’t feel like unsure little Lynn Strickland anymore; I was a confident sexpot.

And I was ready to claim my man.

Before I could second guess myself, I quickly rapped my knuckles on the door. It felt like an eternity before I heard his heavy tread. My knees quivered slightly when the door swung open.

His large frame filled up the doorway. Unlike our first meeting, he looked slightly frazzled, wiping his hands into a kitchen towel, and his dark t-shirt seemed to have a light dusting of flour across his midsection. Those piercing blue eyes swept down my body and his firm lips slowly curved into a broad grin.

I swept past him before he could say a word, letting my hips sway a I headed straight for the kitchen. The counters were snowy with flour; in the center of the mess was a droopy mound of soggy dough. Lynn Strickland would have thrown on her apron and started cleaning. The new Lynn Strickland, however, ignored the chaos and gracefully perched on the dining table.

“I’m here to apply for the position.”

“I see,” he said, casually leaning against the counter.

“Is the position still available?”

“It depends.”

“On what?” Arching my back slightly, I let a lock of hair dip into my deep cleavage. His eyes widened appreciatively.

“The conditions have changed.”

“I see.”

“Since my last employee left so abruptly, I’ve been wasting away…starving for her.”

“You poor man.” I uncrossed my legs ever so slowly, letting my soft thighs barely part beneath the short hem of my trench coat. My efforts were rewarded by a tightening of his strong jaw as his hungry gaze seemed to burn through the cool canvas.

“This new position is a permanent one. Besides the regular duties, I also need assistance with my writing. As my muse, this, of course, requires an exclusive arrangement.”

“Oh?” I purred. “How exclusive and how permanent?” Toying with my belt, I started to feel confined by the restrictive fabric and I ached to display myself to him.

“Completely exclusive.” His lust-roughened voice made my insides melt. “As for permanence, why don’t we have a a trial period for the next 80 years, or so? Once you fulfill your contract, we can negotiate further.”

“I…I think I can agree to those terms,” I said. I squirmed on the table when he flung the towel into the sink and stalked towards me.