Cooking Up Romance (The Taylor Triplets Book 1) Page 3

  She couldn’t imagine the horror the other military guy—the one who’d made the mistake—must have felt when he’d realized what he’d done. At the news, she’d melted into a sadness so deep she couldn’t imagine ever seeing her way out.

  The last time she and Greg had spoken over the internet had been two days before that earth-shattering news. Greg had been animated and full of life, and they’d made a few more plans for their wedding, laughed together, then said they loved each other. She’d loved him so much. Then he was gone. Along with all her dreams. The next few months had been a blur, and only after her father had insisted she get out of bed and stop acting like she’d died, too, did Lacy try to pick up her life without him. A task she couldn’t imagine pulling off.

  That had been five years ago, and losing Greg still hurt. The flowers also reminded that she’d let her mother’s rose garden go to weeds after her father died. The place where Greg had proposed. Mom. Another person she’d loved and lost. Now guilt edged in along with the other sad memories. All because of today’s beautiful wedding grounds. She’d been blindsided with Greg’s memory and, worse yet, had let herself go there. Which led to thinking of losing her father and her mother. All the people she loved. Now she had to quickly wipe her eyes or run the risk of crying into the steak marinade. The memory was still too painful. But if she got the regular job at the senior housing building site, she wouldn’t have to take these wedding gigs anymore. Wouldn’t have to be reminded. So she’d do everything in her power to make sure she got that job.

  Later, after the wedding and during the reception, a young woman, one of the hat wearers in pale blue head to foot, stood in the short line for a chicken wrap. She made a strange expression when Lacy handed the food to her, as if time had stopped for a moment when they looked at each other. After she took the wrap, the young woman started to step away, but quickly turned back. “Eva?” she said, sounding incredulous.

  Lacy shook her head. “Uh, nope, I’m Lacy.”

  “Oh.” The woman kept staring eerily at her. “Thanks.”

  “I hope you like it.”

  “I’m sure I will. Thanks.” She looked up again. “You look exactly like Eva.”

  Absurd, right? Yeah, all redheads look alike. Heard that one a few thousand times before. Though under the circumstances, the wedding and all, plus the fact the young woman wore a really cool blue hat, Lacy wanted to be polite.

  “Don’t they say everyone has a doppelgänger?” A nervous laugh escaped Lacy’s mouth as she said it, doing her best not to let on the young woman’s observation had unsettled her.

  “Wow. You laugh just like her, too.” A dumbfounded expression accompanied the hat-wearer as she held the bag with the chicken wrap tight to her chest and walked backward, staring at Lacy the entire time until the crowd curtained her. Then the brunette’s hand, holding a cell phone, rose over a couple of heads.

  Lacy swore she’d just had her picture taken.

  Chapter Two

  Sunday night, Zack sat at the kitchen table and caught up on some paperwork while his ten-year-old daughter, Emma, heated canned soup in a pot and made her one and only specialty—grilled cheese sandwiches.

  “Dad, can I cut up some carrots and add it to the soup? It’ll make it more healthy.”

  “Hmm?” Concentrating on organizing business receipts, he’d only tuned in for the last couple words. “Healthier,” he corrected. Their deal was, if she wanted to cook, which she wanted to do all the time lately, he had to be in the kitchen with her.

  “Yes, that’s what I’m saying.” She let go a large and loud sigh, her current favorite thing to do whenever he corrected her or didn’t pay enough attention, which he’d just done both.

  “Sure.” He laid down his pencil and pushed the pile of papers aside, because he had some making up to do and business could wait. Since his divorce, he’d made a promise to himself, on behalf of Emma, to be all he could be for his daughter. “I’ll watch.”

  Another sigh, but she also smiled, a look he treasured. He stood nearby as she used the peeler and carefully cut small round pieces from the thin carrot, then tossed them into the heating chicken-and-rice soup. She smiled up at him again as she did, making his insides warm right up to his chin. How could his ex-wife turn her back on their daughter?

  He squeezed her shoulder. “Good job,” he said, which garnered another smile from her.

  Emma had the cutest overbite in the world, and he dreaded the day some friend might tease her about it and she’d suddenly be all about getting braces or those new invisible things. The condition affected her two front teeth as if her tongue—or thumb as a baby—had pushed them that way. Mild at best, the teeth only stuck out a tiny bit. And yes, she had sucked her thumb back then. Self-soothing, the pediatrician had called it. Soon enough, when she and her friends started taking selfies and she could compare her smile with theirs, she’d probably catch on and become self-conscious about the small imperfection. Why did everyone need to have perfect teeth anyway? He loved her just the way she was.

  “You gonna watch me grill the sandwiches?”

  “Of course.”

  “I know how to be safe. When’s the last time I got burned?” Occasionally she’d test out being a preteen, and without a woman’s input he was often taken off guard.

  “I can’t remember.” It was easy being benevolent with Emma. Come to think of it, he was the last person to get burned while scrambling eggs, but he didn’t need to remind her.

  “You can set the table.” At ten she’d already learned to delegate—his kind way of avoiding calling his daughter bossy. He figured it was because Emma didn’t have a mother figure, and his guilt over that helped him put up with a lot. Not that she was spoiled. He cleared his throat. “I’ll let you know when I’m ready to start the sandwiches.”

  He did a double take. “Yes, ma’am.” She looked like a natural standing on a footstool, fixing their dinner. When had she become so grown-up?

  She’d had to suffer through his mediocre cooking since her mother left a year and a half ago. Mona was only so-so in the kitchen, too, so the poor kid didn’t exactly have the best training. Lately, though, Emma had discovered the Junior Chefs series on TV and had been nagging him to let her take cooking lessons. At ten? How would he even go about finding a person to teach a child cooking? The kids on that show probably had parents who were culinary geniuses. Was cooking an inherited trait? If so, sweet Emma was doomed.

  She may have inherited the brown hair and eyes from her mother, but their personalities were miles apart. For that he was deeply grateful. Where Emma was naturally bright and sunny, even if a little bossy, Mona had always been moody and hard to read. Maybe because she’d been more interested in flirting with doctors at the hospital in Ventura, where she’d worked, than keeping a home going and teaching her daughter how to grill herself a sandwich. Or better yet, making one for her. But he’d promised not to be resentful about the whole mess of their failed marriage, so he took a breath and tried to let it go.

  Mona had cheated on him exactly once, that she’d admit to anyway. She said it was just her luck that she had gotten caught. Not by him. No. By the hospital, while making out in the ward supply closet with one of the orthopedic residents. Turned out they’d been doing more than that at various spots in the hospital for months. Which blew her one-off excuse right out of the water. For once, justice had been served, since both nurse and doctor lost their jobs.

  When Zack filed for a divorce, Mona moved out. He’d assumed a custody battle would follow, but it never happened. He shook his head at the incredulous memory. How could she leave this beautiful child behind? Not even fight for her. He squeezed Emma’s shoulder again after she flipped the sandwiches and gazed up proudly at him. “See? I know how to be careful.”

  “Well done.”

  They’d gotten off to a rocky start after Mona had left, Emma hurt an
d missing her mom, him angry and nearly devastated by Mona’s lies. But they’d made it through their first Christmas, then Easter and both of their birthdays together, and they seemed to be getting the hang of this father-daughter thing. Just the two of them. His little girl deserved a happy normal life, and he was determined to give it to her.

  Cooking lessons. Where did you send a kid for such things?

  She made an exaggerated inhale. “Sure smells good. My mouth is watering.” Her chocolate-colored eyes lit up. “Remember that delicious wrap you brought home for me Friday?”

  How could he forget. It was the best meal he’d had all week. “Yeah, you wouldn’t share it with me.”

  “Because you already had your half!”

  True, but he could’ve easily eaten the rest without Emma ever knowing about it.

  “Anyways,” she said, “That would’ve gone great with this soup.”

  “So will the grilled cheese. You have a knack for pairing food.”

  Raising a ten-year-old daughter by himself often baffled him. He only wanted to do right by her, but he worried in the beginning he messed up more than he got things right. Their life together was leveling out now, the two of them had gotten closer, and he cared about this small human being more than he ever thought possible. The last thing he wanted to do was throw things out of kilter again.

  He’d love to see Emma learn how to cook if that was what she really wanted, since his talents were in construction not the kitchen. Even his burgers left something to be desired, often dry and tasteless, in need of extra ketchup and mustard.

  Because of that TV show, Emma had recently shown a huge interest in the subject of cooking. Wasn’t it a practical life skill everyone should learn? Besides, he didn’t want to raise the girl on fast food. She deserved better.

  His mind went back to the redhead, Lacy, for about the dozenth time over the weekend, and it wasn’t strictly over the fact she was a great cook. Mona had caused him to recoil from all things female, which made thinking about Lacy all the more aggravating. It’d been a long time since he’d even noticed a woman, but how could a guy not notice that amazing red hair and those eyes that looked like a piece of the sky itself? See, that’s where he could get himself into trouble, and who needed the frustration at this stage in life. She was a great cook, too, from what he’d tasted so far. He’d slipped up and sort of hired her. Temporarily, he reminded himself. But it was probably a big mistake. What had he been thinking? Hopefully, his crew would like her wraps as much as he had.

  “Starting tomorrow, when you have to come to work with me, we can share your choice of wrap three days a week.” Easter and spring break had rolled back around, which meant no school. Last year it had cost a fortune to send her to day camp at the YMCA; this year he figured she was old enough to entertain herself and still get some extra dad time.

  The bit about the wrap got Emma’s complete attention, her big brown eyes watching him as if he held the key to life.

  “The food truck that wrap came from is going to be parking at my construction site for lunch tomorrow, Wednesday and Friday.”

  “Really? Yay, I can’t wait!” Emma ladled soup into bowls with such excitement that a lot wound up on the counter.

  He grabbed a paper towel and mopped up the hot spillage. “You’re gonna like her truck. It’s pink.”

  “My favorite color!”

  That truth hadn’t gone unnoticed the day Lacy had driven up. He threw out the paper towel and got a sponge for the rest of the cleanup. “Don’t forget to bring things to keep yourself busy tomorrow.”

  “Like my crocheting? And my Bettina Ballerina books?”

  “If you like. Anything but watching movies. You’re going to have to entertain yourself a lot while I work.”

  “Like I have to do around here?”

  That stung, but it was true. “You’re good at it, aren’t you?”

  She nodded, gave that adorable smile, and all he wanted to do was hug his little girl.

  “Everything’s ready, Dad,” Emma said, pure pride in her high-toned voice.

  “Wow, this looks great.” The sandwiches were browned to perfection, then placed on small plates with a pickle spear each, and the soup was in wide bowls, steam rising from the warm broth. He carried the hot stuff to the table and let her handle the grilled cheese.

  “It’s called presentation.”

  She’d obviously learned that from the Junior Chefs show, because he simply threw food on the plates. His kid had already figured out how to arrange things to make them look inviting. The next thought hit with a ball of anxiety: he’d be in way over his head by the time she was a teenager.

  “Someday, I want to be a cook for a big restaurant,” she said, delivering her plates, then rushing to grab some paper napkins. “I just need to learn how.”

  “Shortcake, I don’t doubt you’ll be able to do anything you put your mind to.” He sat. “Now let’s eat. I’m so hungry I may need seconds.”

  Halfway through the meal he got an idea. “Maybe we can search online for some kid-friendly recipes that you can try right here at home. And I can help.” Maybe he’d pick up a few cooking tips, too, as it would be right at his level.

  Her already large eyes nearly doubled in size. “Could we?”

  His eleven-year marriage may have hit the dumpster, but he’d struck pure gold with his daughter.

  * * *

  Lacy arrived home from the wedding job and got right to work cleaning the truck. A few minutes in, it occurred she hadn’t updated her social media today. She accessed her page on her cell phone, and where it asked the question What’s on your mind? she posted: Worked a wedding today at the Natural History Museum. So Pretty. Have a new job starting tomorrow. Can’t wait. To encourage interaction, on a whim, she asked: Do you believe everyone has a double somewhere out there? Then she posted a couple pictures of the museum surroundings, and the backs of several of the hat wearers’ heads because they looked so springlike and pretty. Before she signed off to get back to work, she’d already picked up a few likes but, so far, no comments.

  She had a big day tomorrow and needed to set up for the Gardner construction-site job. Saturday she’d prepared and marinated the steak and chicken in twenty-gallon plastic containers, enough for both the wedding and the new job. Half of it was left in the industrial-sized refrigerator in the garage for tomorrow. She’d also made up the tuna and egg salads, chopped all the veggies, diced potatoes, and made sure she had enough assorted wraps, cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, pickles and olives for no less than a hundred sandwiches.

  Excitement buzzed through her over the shot at being permanently employed, though the odd feeling since that hat lady had called her Eva still hovered. What if she did look exactly like someone else? There went the hair on her arms again.

  She checked her social media for comments. There were many more likes; still, no one had chimed in on her pressing question.

  A couple hours later, when all was set to go for tomorrow, the strange feeling still hadn’t faded. Maybe it was because after her father passed, she’d become an official orphan. What if there was someone out there, another relative? Could there be? She’d been feeling so alone since her dad died, yet instead of reaching out to friends and out-of-the area relatives for comfort, she’d been keeping to herself. She was lonely, but somehow it was also safe. In fact, for the last year she’d been making a point of protecting herself, because, well, who else was going to? She was all she had.

  Her mother had died in a car accident when Lacy had been ten, something she still hadn’t gotten over. Her mom had left for her shift at the library one morning and got hit head-on by a cement truck barreling around a bend. Just like that. Gone. It had been a tough age to lose the most important person in a little girl’s life. There simply was no replacing a mother. Her dad had done his best, but mostly he seemed baffled by the little fe
male in his life, and Lacy had no way of knowing men were so different from women on the emotional scale, something that would have helped her understand his awkward reactions whenever she tried to tell him her deepest thoughts. After a while, she’d simply given up. Not that she didn’t love him. Of course she did, but communicating was altogether different with her dad than with her friends. So she often longed for her mother and ached to talk to her. Unfortunately, twenty-one years later, her memories of her mom were dim except for one thing. She knew she’d been loved and even cherished. She’d felt it in her soul. Just like she knew without a doubt her father had loved her, too. She’d been wanted and loved by her parents and that should be enough for any person. Why wasn’t it?

  And then, when Greg had been killed during deployment five years ago, she didn’t think she’d ever get over losing the love of her life. He’d been everything she’d longed for—compassionate, caring, tender and easy to love. He’d also been fearless and willing to sacrifice, and the adventurous part of him had sent him away...to never return. Lacy’s hand rubbed circles around her chest remembering how her heart had been ripped in half the day she’d gotten the news.

  Last year, her father had suffered a major heart attack while exerting himself loading a stack of twenty-gallon containers of homemade potato salad and coleslaw onto his food truck, and had died suddenly. A neighbor had found him in the garage, and Lacy had been grateful it hadn’t been her. She’d fallen apart completely when the police officer had showed up at the restaurant’s kitchen and notified her. The three most important people in her life had all been taken from her without warning. Now she was thirty-one and single, without parents, husband or siblings. A total orphan.