Recipe for Kisses (18 page)

So he’d veered off the trail into the boys’ cabin, picked up a pillow, and challenged Zach and his new friends to the ultimate boy-versus-Beast pillow fight. Of course, Ben had been properly pummeled and the counselors had eventually shut down the shenanigans, but the hug Zach had given him as he’d left the cabin had made the whole weekend worth it. For once in his life, Ben hadn’t walked away or let his temper get the best of him.

“Have you ever met Bobby Flay?” one of the girls asked.

“Yep. A few times. He’s a good guy.”

“Is he a better chef than you?” another kid chimed in.

“He has his style and I have mine.” Unfortunately, Ben’s style was more about proving he could best other chefs than about the food he prepared.

“Did you ever beat him up?” the same kid from before asked.

Bloodthirsty little cuss
. “Never.” Ben looked directly at the kid. “There are better ways to solve problems than with your fists.”

“Like screaming at people and making them cry?” the boy suggested, making Ben wish he could burn every recording of
A Beast in Your Kitchen
that was out in the world.

He looked around the room for rescue, but all of the kids and counselors were staring at him expectantly. Sam was smiling slightly and Chloe’s expression was blank. To Ben, the lack of emotion was worse than anything else she could have shown him.

“Like talking about problems and working them out,” he told the boy.

The kid rolled his eyes. “That’s not what you do on TV.”

“You’re right,” Ben agreed, taking a step forward. He knew many of these kids had suffered through upbringings similar to his, but he also knew there was a better way to cope with issues than his way. Chloe had shown him that, and even if she didn’t want to be with him, he needed to make her understand that their time together meant something to him. That she
still
meant something, more than he even understood.

“Yes, I yell on camera and I’ve done way too much of it.” He pointed to his niece and nephew. “Abby and Zach can tell you that.”

“He’s getting better,” Zach said immediately. “He makes more sense when he’s not screaming.”

Ben threw his nephew a wry smile. “I’m learning to control my temper because I want people to hear the words I say, not just my temper. I grew up in a family of people who fought all the time. Maybe some of you can relate to that?” He glanced around as he said the words, his skin burning after revealing such a personal detail about himself to a group of kids. But several of them nodded and a couple just stared at the ground. Those were the ones who understood what he was saying.

“What I know now and I hope you understand way before I did is that you are in control of who you are and what you want to be. You don’t need to yell or fight to have that kind of power. It’s already yours, and you need to hold on to it. Don’t let anyone make you believe you’re less than you know yourself to be. Find people, like your friends and counselors at this camp, who like you for who you are. Who take care of you and protect you, not tear you down or force you to be someone you’re not. You deserve people in your life who believe in you and your dreams.”

He picked up one of the plates from the counter. “Do you know how many people told me it was stupid to want to become a chef? That someone like me had no business in a fancy restaurant? I used my anger as a shield because I was so damn . . .” He looked at Abby. “I mean so darn scared.”

“What’s so scary about cooking?” one of the older boys asked. “My mom cooks every night.”

“Then you’re lucky, and you better say thank you and compliment whatever she serves.” Ben took a step forward and the boy nodded his head and swallowed. “But it was different for a big, troublemaking teenage boy. I got mad, and I stayed mad for a long time. But that’s not what made me a success. What made me a success was that I love cooking. The anger fueled me, but the love made me good at what I do. Figure out what you love to do, and don’t get caught up in what other people think of it like I did. Because being mad all the time isn’t actually much fun.” He leveled a look at the boy who’d asked the original question. “Despite how it looks on TV.”

The boy stared at him for a moment then nodded. “Love is cool,” he said casually. “Now can we try the food? I’m starving.”

Ben laughed and the other kids cheered, but before they could start eating, Sam let out a long whistle. “I think all of us want to thank Chef Ben, for not only an enlightening cooking demonstration, but also for his very wise words.” She flashed him a cheeky grin. “Nice switch from Beast to Beauty.” Then as she led the campers in a round of applause, Ben found himself actually blushing.

“I didn’t mean to go off on that tangent,” he said quietly as the kids took their plates out to the mess hall.

“It was a good tangent,” Sam said, patting him on the back. “And a helpful class. A lot of these boys don’t have male role models in their lives, so to hear from someone like you that they can follow their dreams is a big deal. Even if you weren’t saying it for their benefit.”

Ben’s gaze flicked to the empty corner of the kitchen. “Chloe left.”

“A few minutes ago,” Sam confirmed. “She heard what you needed her to hear.”

“She thinks I’m playing games. That this is all about winning.”

“Isn’t it?”

“Despite what I told the kids, fighting is what I know how to do. Sometimes it seems like it’s all I know how to do.”

“You know how to love, too.”

To his surprise, Ben didn’t hear any sarcasm in Sam’s tone. “Yeah, right.”

“I don’t believe what you said about loving to cook was a lie.” She nudged his arm. “And it’s clear you love those kids.”

“I’ve only really known them for a few weeks. Before that—”

Sam held up a hand. “You don’t have to know someone for a long time to love them, Chef Biceps.”

Ben smiled and shook his head at her description of him.

“Sometimes it happens in an instant.” She squeezed his arm. “Or in a matter of weeks.”

He studied her for a moment. “There’s more to you than that million-dollar face.”

“Just like there’s more to you than the temper and the muscles.” She squeezed him again.

“I think you like the muscles.”

She gave him a grin that was more a friendly leer than flirty. “I’m only human. Want to take your shirt off?”

“You don’t mean that,” he said, shaking his head.

“I do, but only from a purely theoretical standpoint.”

He laughed. “I’m going to sit down with the kids before you molest me.”

“You wish.”

He was almost to the kitchen door when Sam called his name. “There’s a little cabin about halfway around the lake on the east side. It would be a good place to go if you wanted some privacy.”

“I don’t—” He paused as realization dawned. “Do you think Chloe wanted privacy when she left here?”

“Well, I can’t tell you that,” Sam said with an eye roll. “But if I had to guess—”

“Thank you.” Ben sat with the kids for a few minutes, answering more questions, mostly about foods that were in season and what could be grown locally in Denver. He knew community gardens were gaining popularity in most urban cities, and decided he’d try to find out more about what Denver had to offer kids who might not otherwise have access to fresh food.

After checking in with Zach and Abby, he stopped by the staff cabin to grab a jacket then headed east around the lake.

C
HAPTER FOURTEEN

“S
he told you where to find me.” Chloe said the words softly as she heard someone approach around the edge of the old fishing cabin. She sat on the glider on the back of the deck, watching the sun start to leave pink-and-gold trails across the Colorado sky.

This time of afternoon had always been her favorite at camp. The temperature had dropped several degrees as billowy clouds gathered over the mountain that rose up beyond the western edge of the lake.

The main camp was peaceful, the kids clearly having their hour of mandatory quiet time before dinner. Most of them chose to read or journal. Often one or two of the boys would take a kayak onto the lake, but today the water was still, other than the occasional bubble of a fish surfacing.

“If you want me to go I will,” Ben said from her side. “I just wanted to apologize for . . . well, everything.”

She glanced up at him, his hair a soft silhouette against the pine trees behind him. He’d put on a light jacket, the collar flipped up and grazing his jaw the way she wanted to with her fingers. He’d worked hard to make himself a success and overcome everything he’d been up against as a kid. She knew how important it was for him to prove wrong the people who’d doubted him. Yet today he’d given those kids—and her—a glimpse of the softness inside him she’d glimpsed only late at night when they were together.

“Sit down.” She patted the bench next to her.

Ben folded his tall frame into the corner of the glider. Even though he was clearly trying to keep his distance, the heat was coming off him in waves and she wanted to curl into it, to take the edge off the chill in the air whispering through the surrounding pine trees.

“You don’t need to apologize,” she told him after a moment. “But I do want you to explain.”

“About the recipes I made today?”

Chloe barked out a laugh. “Nice try. Tell me about how you knew Stan Butterfield.”

She felt rather than saw him stiffen.

“When I gave your father the baseball that had been Stan’s, he seemed almost giddy.”

“My dad has a long memory,” Ben muttered.

“I don’t think he’s the only one.”

“I told the kids today that everyone has a dream.”

“It was great what you said to them.”

“My brother’s dream was to be an archaeologist.” He pressed a hand to his forehead, rubbing it as if he had a huge headache. “It seems ludicrous now, with everything that happened. But Cory was obsessed after he found an arrowhead buried in our backyard. He was constantly digging, looking for more artifacts, bones . . . anything he could find.”

“That’s cute.”

A ghost of a smile crossed his face. “It was annoying as hell. But The Toy Chest had this geoscience digging kit on display for months before Christmas the year Cory turned twelve. Cory would walk past every day after school to stare at it. Mom had left that summer, and to say Dad was out of control would be an understatement.”

He shook his head. “But Butterfield had banned both of us from his shop.”

She glanced at him.

“Zach comes by his sticky fingers honestly, I guess, because Cory had gotten caught more than once stealing piddly stuff from the toy store—mostly baseball cards and Matchbox cars. Every time Butterfield called the cops and my dad. He’d give my father these long lectures about raising reprobate boys and how the apple doesn’t fall from the tree, etc. Dad wasn’t a saint when he was younger, either.”

“That had to be difficult for him.”

“It definitely made him hate The Toy Chest. He would have never bought Cory that science set, even if he had the money. But things weren’t like they are today. There was no Internet, only the big chain stores and a few neighborhood specialty places like Butterfield’s. I knew Cory had to have that set. It had taken on some bigger meaning for him, you know? Like it was tied to his future somehow. I told him I’d help him get the money for it and we’d hide it from Dad. All that fall we did chores and odd jobs for people around the neighborhood, raking leaves and washing cars then shoveling snow as the weather turned colder.”

“What were you getting out of it?”

He took a breath and stretched his long legs in front of him. “I was angry when Mom left. I’d always been more like Harry with my temper. Cory was a total mama’s boy. I’m actually still shocked she didn’t take him with her when she left. He cried himself to sleep for months after she was gone. We shared a room and I’d lie there at night, my pillow crammed over my head trying
not
to hear him. He needed something to take his mind off it, and the dinosaur crap did. I guess I wanted a peaceful night’s sleep.”

She wanted to reach for him, to offer some comfort against the painful memories and the idea that a young boy, already wounded from his mother’s desertion, would be put in that position. But she knew from her training that talking was also part of healing. It took all her willpower, but Chloe forced herself to be an impartial listener as he spoke.

“It was just after Thanksgiving that we had enough money. It was going to be an early Christmas gift since there was no doubt Dad wasn’t in a position to go all out for the holidays.”

“How wonderful. Your brother must have been so happy.”

He threw her a sidelong glance. “Stan Butterfield wouldn’t let us in the store.”

Chloe felt herself frowning. “What do you mean? Why not?”

“I told you Cory had lifted a few things from the shop. Butterfield decided we were trouble and he wanted nothing to do with either of us.”

“But you had the money. Did you show him the money?”

Ben’s smile was sad. “He accused us of stealing it. Made a big show of berating Cory and me in front of a store full of holiday shoppers. Bad seeds, future criminals. You name the insult, he used it.”

Chloe couldn’t reconcile the gentle, supportive older man she knew with the grown-up bully Ben described. “What happened? Did your Dad get involved?”

“Eventually,” Ben said, his voice gravelly with emotion. “Cory and I went back home, me running my mouth as usual. Yelling and cussing about all the things I was going to do to get back at Butterfield. They were just words, but not to Cory. He snuck out that night, took one of Dad’s baseball bats, broke the front window, and set fire to a display of baseball cards. All the things I’d threatened, Cory actually did. He went crazy. It was like his anger over Mom and Dad, about everything, bubbled up to the surface and spilled over in one horrible outburst. The cops came, of course, and Butterfield was livid. Dad begged him to handle it privately, promised to pay for the damage. But he pressed charges and Cory went to a juvenile detention center.”

“Oh, Ben. No.”

“It was only for a couple of nights plus a community service sentence, but it changed Cory. There was no more talk of archaeology or earning money for doing chores. No more tears in his pillow. That night hardened him. It changed his relationship with Dad and his reputation in the neighborhood. I tried to keep him away from the troublemakers, but he wouldn’t listen, and, for a time, I ended up right there beside him. It was the only way I could protect him.”

He jumped to his feet and walked a few paces toward the lake then back again. The light was softer now and the clouds had thinned. Shades of pink and orange streaked the sky, making shadows fall across the forest. Chloe held her arms tightly against her chest to ward off the cold seeping through her fleece sweater.

“I hated Stan Butterfield.”

“I understand why.”

“And I hated The Toy Chest. That store represented all the things that were screwed up in my family. I vowed that I’d find a way to shut it down. Butterfield loved the place. It was his whole life, and I wanted him to see it fail. Hell, there was more than one occasion when I was tempted to burn the whole thing to the ground and the consequences be damned.”

“Ben.”

He turned to her. “He owned it outright so there was never anything I could do. But when he died . . .”

“You bought the building.”

He nodded sharply. “I’d forgotten about the vendetta, but Cory called me right away. He’d refused all my offers of help over the years. This was the only thing he ever asked me to do. Your lease came up for renewal just as he was arrested. Shutting down the store was the only hope I could offer him.”

“And now Cory’s kids are helping to save it. Does your brother know the two of them are working for me?”

“Yes, but I promised I’d put a stop to it.”

“Yet you haven’t. Why?”

“You gave them a second chance. What if Stan Butterfield had done that for Cory? What if he’d looked past the things he thought he knew about my brother and seen a kid in a lot of pain who needed help? The story of my family might be different.” He looked at her, his blue eyes so dark they were almost black. “Abby and Zach needed something, and it turns out The Toy Chest was it. They need
you
, Chloe.” He started to move toward her then stopped. His voice dropped to a whisper. “Just like I do.”

Her whole body reacted to his words, skin buzzing and heart pounding. “You told the cooking class that your actions had been fueled by anger. It feels like my whole life has been governed by fear.”

“That’s not true. Look at all you’ve done to make a new life for yourself.”

“In a box. I love the toy store, but what I love more are the women I’m able to help by owning it. It’s safe and insulated . . .” She paused, stood, and closed the distance between them. “And you aren’t, Ben.”

“I want to be a safe place for you.”

“I don’t know if I can trust you.”

He reached out and traced a finger along her eyebrow and down the edge of her face. “You shouldn’t, but I want you to, Chloe.”

“It’s not easy for me. I know what my issues are, and I’ve worn them like a suit of armor for a long time. But . . .” She lifted up onto her tiptoes, brushed her lips over his. “You make me want to try.”

He returned her kiss, but pulled back after a moment. His hands lifted to cradle her face. “The store,” he said, searching her gaze. “I don’t know—”

“We’ll figure it out,” she said, certain she wouldn’t let it come between them again. “I understand why you want the space.”

“But—”

She held a finger against his lips. “I still plan to win. I don’t want any handouts or for you to give up because of what’s between us. We both have reasons for what we want, but if the past few years have showed me anything, it’s that I need to take care of myself. You have to let me do that, Ben.”

“Damn it, Chloe,” he muttered. “You’re putting me in a position where I’m going to hurt you.”

“Not if I beat you. I’m tired of doing the safe thing, of expecting someone to bail me out like I can’t function on my own. You said you thought I was strong. Let me prove it.”

He kissed her as an answer, but it was no longer gentle. This kiss was hot and demanding, but Chloe still wanted more. “In the cabin,” she breathed against his skin. “I need you, Ben. Now.”

He lifted her easily, her legs wrapping around his waist. Darkness was quickly falling around them, yet he had no problem negotiating his way through the door.

The cramped interior was even more shadowed than outside. Chloe had spent enough time there to know the placement of the furniture. She dropped to the floor and led him to the far side of the room, pulling back the covers on the small daybed there. Turning, she pushed Ben down then crawled into his lap, unzipping his jacket and pushing it off his broad shoulders. He tugged at the hem of her sweater and within moments they were a tumble of clothes and limbs, laughing as they jockeyed for position and power. Losing herself in this man and this moment was what she needed more than anything.

It freed her, made her feel strong and powerful in a way she’d come to depend on from Ben. He pushed her boundaries, but never further than she was willing to go. As he trailed kisses along her neck then down lower between her breasts, she understood it was because she did feel safe with him. In his own rough and edgy way, he made her feel cherished but still allowed her the independence she’d never before had.

He laughed as she pushed him to his back, straddling him and moving her hands over his beautiful bare chest. “Bossy,” he whispered then sucked in a breath as she traced his nipple with her tongue. A moment later, Chloe felt the clasp on her bra pop and Ben was on top of her, peeling the fabric from her skin.

“I could look at you forever,” he said, as he cupped her in his big hands.

The words spiked through her, making her body heat at the same time her heart swelled. She’d never considered wanting another forever after her divorce. In truth, she thought she’d sworn off men completely in the aftermath of that awful relationship.

It felt good to feel alive and wanted. She might be damaged, but she wasn’t as broken as she’d once believed.

“What do you want, Chloe?” Ben’s voice was a harsh rasp. He wanted her to say the words, to tell him how she wanted to be touched and where she was willing to go.

“Your mouth,” she said on a hiss. “On me.”

With a wicked gleam in his eyes, he obliged her. His tongued circled her nipple, and she moaned as he pulled the tight peak into his mouth. “Here?” he asked, moving his attention to the other breast.

“Lower,” she whispered and earned a husky laugh.

He licked and sucked his way down her rib cage to the curve of her belly. When he paused, she arched underneath him, lifting her hips off the twin-size mattress. “Tell me, Chloe.”

“More.” She was too charged to care that she was panting. “Please, Ben. More.”

He eased farther down her body, pulling her underpants over her hips then moving between her legs. The first time he’d looked at her so intimately, Chloe had almost died of embarrassment, but now she reveled in the desire clouding his eyes. He felt that way for her, and it was more than she’d ever dreamed of having.

When he touched her, she nearly exploded, came even closer to dropping over the edge as his mouth followed his fingers. She was lost within minutes, stars and fireworks and a thousand meteor showers exploding behind her eyes. But still it wasn’t enough, and when he reached for his wallet, she grabbed it from him.