Recipe for Kisses (6 page)

Kendall was a couple of inches taller than Chloe and way more pulled together. Her shoulder-length honey-brown hair and symmetrical features made her a perfect fit for broadcast television. Chloe could barely keep her curls in check, but Kendall never seemed to have a hair out of place.

As the anchor of a popular morning program in Denver, Kendall favored conservative suits, but her style had relaxed a little since she’d started dating local landscaper Ty Bishop, who she’d met while covering a story that exposed his family’s shady business practices. Falling in love had made everything about Kendall soften. Chloe knew her friend had been forced to reevaluate everything she’d worked for in life to claim a future with Ty, and Chloe couldn’t be happier for her.

Sam tapped a finger on the table in front of Chloe. “I thought business was good since you took over?”

“It’s getting there,” Chloe said, not meeting her friend’s knowing gaze. “Stan Butterfield was dedicated to the store, but he hadn’t updated the merchandise or the way he did business since he’d first opened. It’s taken a while for people to rediscover the shop. We’re making progress, slow but steady.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Sam leaned forward. “Do you have a secret gambling addiction?”

“What? No, of course not.”

“She knows that,” Kendall said quickly then added, “but what’s really going on?”

“A lot of money is tied up in payroll,” Chloe admitted after a moment. “I have more employees than I need, and I pay double compared to most retail jobs, plus offer benefits when I can. Honestly, it’s bleeding me dry.”

“Then fire some people,” Sam suggested. “Clean house.”

“I can’t,” she said simply. “They need me. Could you cut your summer camp staff so easily?”

Sam started to respond then shook her head. “No, but I understand what you’re going through. If I didn’t have my savings, it would be a different future for Bryce Hollow Camp.”

Despite Sam’s baggy jeans and shapeless T-shirt, nothing could disguise her world-class beauty. She’d been a model for years, gracing the covers of major magazines and fashion-week runways and had several lucrative cosmetics contracts under her belt. Now she used the money she’d made to run a summer camp west of Denver for disadvantaged kids.

Kendall held up a hand. “There’s more to the story. What are you not telling us?”

Kendall was a great reporter, so it shouldn’t have surprised Chloe that she’d dig deeper.

It was time to share why this was so important to her. If she had any chance at saving the store, she’d need the support of everyone in her life. “I hire women who are referred to me by Denver Safehouse, the local battered women’s shelter. They’ve left abusive relationships and are trying to create new lives for themselves but often lack the confidence and skills they need to reenter the work force.” She took a deep breath and continued. “Domestic violence is more than just physical abuse. It’s emotional, verbal, and often isolating. These women have been beaten down, sometimes literally but always figuratively, until they’re afraid of everything, especially their own judgment.”

“You give them a fresh start,” Kendall said, admiration flashing in her bright hazel eyes.

“And try to bolster their confidence. A toy store is about as nonthreatening as it gets as far as customers. I understand that it hurts my profits, but it helps in more important ways.”

“Like your own healing,” Sam whispered, her voice uncharacteristically gentle.

Chloe nodded. “I’m embarrassed at what I let happen to me, that I let Jonathan break me that way.”

“But you know,” Kendall offered, “that the victim of domestic violence is never to blame.”

“It wasn’t . . .” Chloe started to say then stopped. Her ex-husband had abused her and she needed to own that. It was easier to act like she was different from the women she tried to help. But even if he’d only hit her a few times, Jonathan had worn away her confidence to a pathetic nub. She may not have ended up in the hospital, but who knew what would have happened if she’d stayed.

“I know that in principle,” she told her friends. “But reality is different. I understand what these women are going through and I can help them.”

“But not if Ben Haddox won’t renew your lease,” Sam said, throwing up her hands when Kendall shot her another sharp look. “There’s no sense in avoiding the obvious.”

There was a lot of love among the three of them, but Kendall and Sam both had strong wills. Normally Chloe played the role of mediator between Sam’s straightforward manner and Kendall’s professional reserve. It was almost funny to see her two friends trying to manage without her in the mix.

“You’re right,” she said when her friends continued to glare at each other. “That’s why I asked him to give me the chance to earn back the store. If I can find a way to pay the rent I owe.”

“I’ll give you the money,” Sam offered immediately.

Chloe smiled but shook her head. “The money has to come from the store’s profits. I need to prove that The Toy Chest is a viable business.”

“But you want to do that without downsizing employees.”

“It’s a long shot.” Chloe pulled off another piece of croissant. “My most profitable month was last December, so I gave everyone five-hundred-dollar bonuses. They work hard and deserve to share in the success when it happens. I don’t want to disappoint anyone.”

“You’re the most caring person I know, but you won’t be any help to them if there’s no store,” Sam told her, repeating the same sentiment Karen had shared. “I’ve been working on making camp more profitable throughout the year so it will be self-sustaining and I can focus my resources on the kids who can’t afford it on their own. What you need are ideas for bringing in more customers. If you don’t want to cut expenses, the alternative is increasing profits.”

Kendall nodded. “I can feature the store and the kids’ crafting programs you do on the show’s weekly segment on hidden gems in Denver.”

“I can’t ask you to—”

“You’re not asking,” Kendall said at once. “I’m offering.”

“We’re in this together,” Sam agreed. “You give support to everyone around you, Chloe. Now it’s time to let us return the favor.”

“Thank you,” Chloe whispered, the ball of tension that had been weighing on her since she’d received the lease letter beginning to ease.

Kendall took her hand. “We’re going to make this right for you.”

“Enough with the Hallmark moment,” Sam interrupted, taking a pen and notepad from her purse. “Let’s make a plan. How about a sidewalk sale or an open house to draw in more customers? We’ll work on getting publicity for the programs you do with my campers. Anything that helps get people through your front door.”

Chloe sat up straighter, for the first time feeling hopeful that she might have a chance of making her crazy scheme work. “There’s the big neighborhood festival over Fourth of July weekend. Normally I shut down the store because the crowds make some of the women nervous. But if I explain to them why we need to stay open, I’m sure they’ll support it.”

“What you do for those women is wonderful,” Kendall began.

“But you need to start acting like you’re running a business and not a charitable foundation,” Sam finished. “Your heart is in the right place, but that won’t mean a thing to Ben Haddox.”

Chloe winced but had to admit her friend was right. She’d bought the toy store on a whim, needing something to anchor her life when her marriage fell apart. But it had become much more to her, and she refused to give it up without a fight. She had to prove to Ben, and to herself, that The Toy Chest was worth saving.

C
HAPTER FIVE

B
en got out of the car in front of his dad’s house Friday afternoon, tipped the driver then waved to the women gathered on the front porch of the house across the street. This section of the city had a few young professionals but consisted mostly of families that had been there for decades. The area was bordered by the Highlands neighborhood, where The Toy Chest was located, to the north and Sports Authority Field at Mile High to the south. His dad’s house was a boxy brick home built in the early 1900s and hadn’t changed much since Ben was a kid. It was in need of a fresh coat of paint and some major landscape upgrades, both of which he’d offered to pay for. Of course, his dad had told him where he could shove his new money. Stubborn ass.

“I never thought someone could get paid for being as mean as you are, Ben Haddox,” one of the women shouted to him, her voice carrying in the still summer air.

“Nice to see you, too, Mrs. Peterson.”

The other ladies on the porch snickered, but another one came to the edge of the dilapidated house’s front steps. “My Angie’s getting married in two weeks,” she called. “We were going to order platters from Marcelli’s deli, but if you want to try out some of your newfangled recipes, I’ll pay you the same per-person rate.”

He held up a hand and turned to make his way toward his father’s house. “I’ll keep that in mind, Mrs. Donata. Appreciate the offer.”

Before they could give him any more grief, Ben pushed through the front door and slammed it shut behind him. “I’m home,” he called, waiting for the thunder of Zach’s footsteps on the stairs.

When the house remained silent, he dropped his duffel bag and headed for the kitchen. Ben had lived alone for years, but in the last month he’d gotten used to the sound of the kids’ voices, the bickering and joking and the noise that followed them everywhere.

He’d only been away twenty-four hours, one night of tossing and turning in a swanky Vegas hotel suite after he’d made his appearance at the tasting event sponsored by
bon app
é
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magazine. Those events were a normal part of his life, even though he’d come to dread them almost as much as he did taping the show that had made him famous.

Last night had been no exception. The party was filled with D-list celebrities, socialites, and people with money looking to snap a selfie with someone famous. The food served was pretentious, more style than substance, which had an unsettling similarity to his life.

A woman he’d known when he’d worked in Vegas had dropped less-than-subtle hints about an invitation back to his hotel suite, at one point groping his junk under the table. A year ago he would have welcomed the bottle service at the event in the exclusive VIP section and a mindless liaison to cap off the night. For so long he’d let his circumstances define who he was, which had left him at the end of the day sitting on a big throne of hot air.

Now he just wanted to hear what he’d missed—how many diamond swords Zach had collected in his favorite video game and if Abby had eaten sugary cereal for all three meals yesterday. Hell, he wanted to cook for the kids and his dad, barter with Zach to try to get him to eat something green from the plate. He was in deep.

After working at La Lune, he’d made a point of only cooking on the clock. It was his job and he was well paid for it. Why did anyone else deserve his time and effort? Now he understood why he’d held that piece of himself back from the so-called friends in his life. It was the part that mattered most, and he only wanted to share it with people who really meant something to him.

None of whom he could find anywhere in the damn house, which was royally pissing him off.

He yelled for the kids and his father, stomped up the stairs, and barged through closed bedroom doors, but no one was around. As he came back down the steps, he heard a noise from the back patio and stalked out there. Sure enough, his father sat in the midday sun on a worn lounge chair with frayed edges. He was wearing the headphones Ben had sent him for Christmas, noise-canceling Beats plugged into the iPod balanced on his stomach. One hand loosely gripped a tumbler of iced tea, but Ben could tell by the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest that his dad was fast asleep.

In one movement, he kicked the side of the chair and snatched the headphones off his dad’s head. “Wake up, old man,” he growled.

“What the hell?” His father sat up sputtering, and the drink tipped onto the concrete, dark liquid spilling everywhere. “Christ, Benny, you about gave me another heart attack.”

Ben tossed the headphones toward the chair. “Where are Abby and Zach?”

“I dropped them off at the toy shop this morning. First day of work for those two.” Harry plopped his feet on either side of the chair. “I told Abby to call when they were ready. I haven’t heard anything. Maybe they’re walking home. This is a safe neighborhood. They have friends around.”

“Friends who are likely getting up to the same sort of trouble as Cory and me when we were that age. Abby’s fifteen and, in case you haven’t noticed, she’s a pretty girl. The boys around here—”

At this, Harry shot out of the chair. “If any boy so much as looks at her, I’ll dust off my old boxing gloves.” He made fists with his meaty hands. “Or maybe I’ll go bare-knuckled. I’ve still got moves, you know.” Harry did a few seconds of footwork that left him panting.

Ben pressed his fingers to his temples. “You didn’t think to pick them up? It’s possible they’ve been stuck at The Toy Chest all day.”

“It’s a toy store, not boot camp.”

“Fine,” Ben muttered. “I’ll go get them.”

Without waiting for his father’s response, Ben slammed back into the house, grabbed his keys from the counter, and headed toward the Range Rover parked in the alley behind the house. Within minutes, he wedged the hulking vehicle into a spot around the corner from the toy store. He needed to get Abby a cell phone. She’d asked for one shortly after he’d arrived, but it had seemed unnecessary at the time. Now he was kicking himself. Maybe he was overreacting, but these kids were
not
going to get into trouble on his watch. He’d done a crappy job of keeping his brother on the right path and was determined to do better this time around.

The store was filled with more customers than he’d seen before, and a couple stopped him as he came through the door.

“You’re ‘The Beast,’ right?” the woman said, whipping out her cell phone as she asked the question. “Can I get a selfie with you?”

Ben narrowed his eyes. “I’m busy,” he snapped.

The woman only laughed. “You sound just like you do on TV. That’s awesome.” She threw an arm around his shoulder, held out the cell phone in front of her, and snapped a picture.

She was gone before Ben could even reply, which was a good thing since his response wouldn’t have been appropriate for a toy store. He saw Zach’s dark head peeking over an aisle on the far side of the store and made his way past several other groups of shoppers.

The older hippie woman from his first visit to the store was crouched next to his nephew, and they appeared to be in deep conversation. Ben released a breath, some of his worry easing. Maybe his father was right and he needed to release his anxiety. He had no doubt they were safe with Chloe, but it felt right to confirm it.

“Ninjas should go on the shelf above dragons,” Zach said, pointing to the display of building sets.

“But the dragons are more colorful, so—”

“Doesn’t matter,” Zach argued. “The ninja boxes are smaller so you can fit more of them on one shelf and they’ll be easier to spot up high.”

“That makes sense.” She nodded then noticed Ben standing behind them. She straightened and held out a hand. “We didn’t actually meet when you were here before. I’m Karen Henderson.”

Ben shook her hand before turning to Zach. “Where the hell have you and Abby been all day? Your grandpa was worried sick.”

“Language, Mr. Haddox,” Karen said with a soft tsk.

Zach actually scoffed as he stood, a mature sound coming from the skinny kid. “The Rockies are playing this afternoon and Gramps is off work. He’s outside sleeping in a chair while he pretends to listen to the game.” Zach glanced at Ben. “He doesn’t care where we are.”

Ben opened his mouth to argue, but the words that came out surprised him. “I care,” he shouted.

“Inside voice,” Karen added.

Ben narrowed his eyes at the woman, but she only shrugged. “What was it like in your family? Did you have to raise your voice to be heard? Sometimes there are psychological reasons why people become loud talkers.”

“My grandpa is always shouting,” Zach told Karen. “He’s not angry all the time like Ben—”

“I’m not angry,” Ben said then gritted his teeth when he realized he’d yelled the words. Both Karen and Zach gave him a pitying look. “I’m not angry,” he repeated in a quieter tone. “But I will be if you don’t explain why you never called Harry to pick you up.”

“We’re working,” Zach said, as if that was the most natural thing in the world. “Chloe bought us lunch and I’m reorganizing the merchandise.”

Karen nodded. “He’s got a talent for it.”

“And Abby?” Ben asked, curious despite himself as to what could keep his surly teenage niece occupied in a toy store all day.

“She’s in back with Chloe,” Karen told him, “revamping the website.”

“What the . . .” He cleared his throat at the older woman’s raised brow. “What does Abby know about websites?”

“A lot more than the rest of us.” Karen glanced over his shoulder toward the front of the store. “Looks like a family needs assistance with the puzzles. Want to take care of them with me, Zach?”

The boy nodded eagerly. “You’ve got some cool 3-D puzzle balls up there. I bet we can make a quick sale.” He looked up at Ben, his bright blue eyes innocent. “I’ve made almost a hundred dollars in sales today. We’re going to help Chloe save her store.”

Ben felt his mouth drop open. “From me?”

His nephew smiled. “You bet. Abby says you’re going down.”

“Does she now?” He glanced at Karen, who hitched her thumb toward the back of the store.

“They’re in the office,” she told him.

“Great. Because Abby and I need to have a little conversation about whose side she’s on in this deal.”

He stomped away from them, avoiding the gazes of other shoppers and ignoring the surprised yelp of the woman behind the register when he elbowed past her and through the door to Chloe’s office.

He had every intention of lighting into both of them then snatching his niece away from Chloe. Ben was all for competition, but turning his family against him was playing dirty even if she didn’t know what this store meant to him and his brother. In some ways he could admire Chloe for it. She didn’t seem the type to have that kind of killer instinct and he had to give her props for manipulating the situation to her advantage. But if she thought—

His anger dissolved in an instant as he took in the scene before him. Abby sat in front of the computer screen at the ancient wood desk with Chloe leaning over her shoulder. As he watched, Chloe squealed with delight then wrapped his niece in a huge hug before pulling her from the chair to do some sort of bizarre dance to the soft music coming from the computer speaker.

At first Abby looked as shocked as he felt, but after a moment she hugged Chloe back just as hard then tried to teach her an intricate handshake. Chloe couldn’t master it, but both of them giggled then began to spin in a circle together.

He was speechless. He’d never seen Abby so animated. The fact that this probably had something to do with the possibility of Ben losing the store wasn’t lost on him, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. For the first time since Ben had arrived in Denver, Abby appeared carefree. She looked her age and not like a wary worrier, always glancing over her shoulder as if she was waiting for someone to sneak up and land a sucker punch.

The happiness of his niece and nephew was the whole reason Ben had agreed to take care of the kids in the first place. To give them a shot at a normal life. How ironic that the woman who put that smile on Abby’s face was the one who was frustrating him at every turn.

But right now Ben wished Chloe’s soft arms were wrapped around him. He needed to be a part of the moment and the sweetness that radiated from her. Without realizing it, he took a step forward, alerting both of them to his presence. Abby’s scowl returned almost immediately, and Chloe blushed such a deep pink he was surprised she didn’t pass out from the blood rushing to her face. Unfortunately, the one thing both of them had in common was that neither looked happy to see him.

H
eat rose to Chloe’s cheeks as Ben raked her with his stormy, blue-eyed gaze. But she was more worried about the other parts of her that felt like they were catching fire under his scrutiny.

Looming in her doorway, he seemed to suck most of the air from the room. Or at least all of it from her lungs. She blamed it on the dreams she continued to have about him where he was gentle and tender, so very different from real-life Ben.

Except when he glanced from her to Abby, the loneliness she’d seen before flashed in his gaze again. Then he spoke and she realized he still had no clue how to interact with his niece.