The Husband Recipe. Linda Winstead Jones

rooms.

      She took a step back. “I shouldn’t have bothered you with this. Just forget it. I’ll …”

      Cole turned and yelled. “Get in here, every one of you!” After a moment of strained silence, the three kids came creeping into the room. Heads down, bare feet shuffling, they were all soaking wet and chagrined. Cole asked, in a calmer voice, “What happened?”

      After a moment of complete silence—a rarity in this house—all three started talking at once, each trying to outdo the other in pitch and storytelling. It was a window after all. Just what he needed. A damaged garden would be easier to fix. A little dirt, a new plant or two, and it was done. Windows were more complicated. He tried to make sense of the story. Apparently Justin had thrown the ball, but it was Hank who’d missed it. And as the oldest, Meredith should’ve stopped them from playing ball in the first place.

      Cole had to work hard to disguise his fatherly pride. Justin was just five. It had to have been a helluva hard pitch to break a window. He kept his pride to himself. What kind of parent would he be if he gave his son a pat on the back for breaking the neighbor’s window?

      “Y’all apologize to …” He looked over his shoulder to the pretty neighbor who’d taken yet another step back. “I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.”

      “Lauren Russell,” she said.

      He stepped forward and offered his hand. “Cole Donovan. These rug rats, in order of appearance, are Meredith, Hank and Justin.” She took his hand for a quick shake that was firm enough but not long-lasting, then quickly resumed the position meant to protect her from showing too much boob but that actually pushed them up and out a bit. Something he really shouldn’t be noticing. “Kids, apologize to Ms. Russell. Then everyone gets a timeout.”

      The kids apologized without much sincerity, then complained about their punishment. Cole turned to look at them. “No one came to me and told me about the broken window. Accidents happen, but trying to pretend they didn’t isn’t acceptable.”

      “Would you like me to make you some coffee, Dad?” Meredith asked sweetly. Almost thirteen—and wasn’t he terrified by that fact—she was sometimes the spitting image of her mother. Long blond hair, deep brown eyes, high cheekbones and long legs. Why couldn’t she stay twelve forever? Awhile longer, at least.

      He maintained a stern expression. “Coffee isn’t going to fix this.”

      Cole could practically see Hank’s mind spinning. Great. His middle child, the budding wizard who was currently without front teeth, would probably be in the kitchen this afternoon whipping up yet another potion designed to improve his father’s mood. If coffee wouldn’t work, surely magic would. The boy was seven; when was he going to outgrow this phase? Why couldn’t he be into baseball or football or soccer? No, he had to be into dragons and spells and magic wands. As always, Justin, the wizard’s apprentice, would help with the process when Hank went to work. Leftovers, half-filled boxes of juice, whatever they could find in the pantry—anything was fair game when it came to their concoctions. Cole would drink at least a sip of the potion, no matter what it contained. The boys hadn’t killed him with their experiments yet.

      He never should’ve let the kids watch those movies….

      Chastised, all three shuffled off to their rooms. He wouldn’t make them stay there long. Just long enough to realize they’d made mistakes.

      Cole turned back to Lauren. “I’ll fix your window.”

      She was already making her escape. “Don’t worry about it.”

      Cole stepped onto the front porch, but stopped short of following his neighbor into the yard. She was most definitely a woman making a getaway. “Nope. My kids broke it, I’ll fix it.”

      “Whatever.” She waved, but her back was to him by then so he didn’t get another nice view. Too bad. Though he had to admit, the rear view wasn’t too shabby. Lauren Russell walked like a woman, with a hint of sashay as she hurried home.

      Like he had time for a woman, pretty or otherwise.

      “Hang on a minute,” he said, ignoring his initial instinct and following in Lauren’s footsteps. She stopped, waited a couple of seconds longer than was necessary, and turned around slowly. Her chin was up, her eyes … defiant. He just wanted to talk to her, smooth the rough way they’d been introduced. After all, they were going to be neighbors, probably for a good long while. But the way she looked at him … Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea….

      “Yes?” she prodded when he just stood there too long like an idiot, saying nothing.

      “Sorry we got off to a bad start.” He tried to think of a couple of neighborly questions he could ask. Where’s the best shopping, what about the other neighbors, what are the best movie theaters … Can I borrow a cup of sugar? Yeah, right, that would go over well. Judging by the look on her face, the woman just wanted peace and quiet, she wanted to be left alone. He couldn’t blame her. “I’ll try to keep the kids out of your hair.”

      Her expression softened. “I’m sorry I overreacted.” She was trying to very casually cover her breasts, which only drew his attention to her gentle curves. “Kids will be kids, I suppose, and it’s not like I think they broke the window on purpose.”

      Cole rocked back slightly and shoved his hands in his pockets. He shouldn’t have followed her. What the hell had he been thinking? Oh, yeah, he’d been thinking that Lauren Russell was cute and interesting and he hadn’t talked to an adult face-to-face in days. Fortunately he knew how to undo his awkward mistake. He knew how to end this conversation here and now. “So if I ever need a babysitter …”

      The horrified expression on Lauren’s face was priceless, and Cole couldn’t help but grin widely. “Just kidding.”

      She nodded her head, muttered a polite goodbye and made her final escape. This time, he didn’t bother to follow.

      Chapter Two

      Lauren leaned into the computer. Her stomach was telling her that it was time for lunch, and she had leftovers in the fridge. Vegetable lasagna, one of her favorites. But her growling stomach could wait. Her article was finished and off by email, the broken glass had been swept and picked up from the floor and carpet, and she’d taped a piece of cardboard to the broken window. She’d decided to take a break before she got to lunch and then to the edits on her book. Google was a wonderful invention. Not only did it lead people searching for recipes right to her website, it was great for checking out new neighbors.

      She’d been prepared to search for the correct Cole Donovan for a while. Neither Cole nor Donovan were unusual names. It wasn’t like his name was Rumpelstiltskin. She hadn’t started with a lot of hope; she was prepared to find next to nothing. It didn’t hurt to try, she supposed. Surprisingly, he came up first on the list. She knew without doubt that it was him because there was a picture.

      Baseball. Huh. She’d never been a fan, otherwise she might’ve recognized his name. Apparently Cole Donovan had been a big deal a few years back, a star third baseman on track to break some sort of home-run record for the season. She had to scan down a few links to find out why he’d quit in the middle of the season, with that record and a promising career on the line.

      Lauren’s heart dropped as she read the archived article. His wife had indeed died. Mary Donovan had dropped dead in the grocery store, victim of a heart defect she’d been born with but had never been aware of. A chill ran down Lauren’s arms. Here one moment; gone the next. It was the sort of thing no one could possibly be prepared for. There was no one to blame, no drunk driver or misdiagnosis or missed treatment. Just … poof. The young mother of three had been twenty-nine at the time; so had Cole. They’d been high-school sweethearts.

      Cole had walked away from baseball after his wife died, giving up a lucrative career for his family. He could’ve pawned the kids off on relatives, she supposed, or hired a nanny and kept playing, but no. He’d left a promising career to take care of his children, to be