The Secret Ingredient Page 2

  Becca felt a flush creep up her cheeks. She had no excuse. She’d been charmed, but the fact remained, she should have taken him back immediately.

  “I—I’m sorry.”

  Eli glared at her and held out his hand to his son. “Come on, Bash. Gram’s coming to pick you up.” He looked at Becca, his mouth thinning. “Stay away from my son, Becca.”

  She started to bite back, but then her gaze dropped to Bash’s woeful expression. She jammed her hands inside the pockets of her slacks and nodded. Bash looked back over his shoulder at her as Eli marched him away. She’d heard bits and pieces about Eli’s broken marriage and his return to town with his son. She just hadn’t put the two of them together. Poor kid.

  She thought of her own childhood in the midst of a boisterous family. With five kids out on her parents’ farm, they’d always run around, getting into scrapes and getting themselves back out again. Summers were times when, after chores were done, they were allowed to run and play all day long just so they were home for dinner.

  She looked over to where Eli and Bash collected his toys together, and she blinked back tears. Eli had been a part of most of that. Years ago, Becca would have followed him like a puppy if her brothers hadn’t kept shooing her away. It wouldn’t have mattered. Eli had only looked at her as Caleb and Noah’s annoying little sister.

  * * * *

  Eli fumed the rest of the afternoon and into the early evening, making him glad he was in the back cooking. It suited his mood not to have to deal with customers. While he was adept at handling clientele, it drained him. By the end of the day, he was ready for time alone. Having Bash full time made it as difficult to be alone as it made it for him to connect with friends. The poker game tonight would be a welcome relief, maybe a chance to reconnect.

  Eli had told Luke he’d be a bit late and been reassured he could show up whenever. They’d just deal him in on the next hand. As Eli locked up and turned to get in his car, he glanced across the square. Lights shone in the windows over the new sign. Becca must be living there.

  Once again he pictured her as he’d seen her close up at lunchtime, khaki shorts showing off impossibly long, shapely legs, those world class boobs of hers stretching her T-shirt until he could almost see the outline of her nipples. Eli shifted when his cock twitched. Look, don’t touch. Becca had always been out of reach. Now wasn’t any different.

  Eli knocked and waited on Luke’s porch that evening. Jake snatched the door wide.

  “Come on in, man. Give me the beer. I’ll put it in the fridge. Game’s going on in the dining room. End of the hallway.”

  Eli found everyone huddled around the table. No chips here. Just cold, hard cash in stacks of varying sizes.

  Evan had an unlit cigar clenched in his teeth. “Hey, Eli. I think you know everyone here except maybe Pastor Joe.”

  A blond-haired, blue-eyed man smiled at him angelically before raking in the cash from the middle of the table.

  “You bluff way too well to be a man of God,” Stoner Richardson was telling the younger man.

  “Don’t worry, Daddy, you’ll win it back.”

  Eli had almost forgotten Joe Taylor was married to Richardson’s younger daughter.

  The former senator looked Eli’s way. “Good to see you, Eli. We can always use fresh meat for these games. Hope you brought plenty to lose.”

  And so the evening went. It felt good to be back home.

  Before it got too late, Eli folded, his pockets a little lighter when he stopped by his parents’ home and picked up a sleeping Bash. His son was always going full-tilt at everything in life, until he crashed, so this was one of Eli’s favorite times when he could simply hold and cuddle his son.

  He turned down a side street to the small bungalow he had rented until he could find something more permanent. It was close to town, so he could walk or ride his bike if he didn’t want to drive. He still liked that convenience. Maybe it was years of living along the coast where walking or riding had been faster and easier than trying to maneuver a car in all that tourist traffic. Now, back in the mountains, he found it was a habit he didn’t want to shake.

  After settling Bash in his new twin bed, Eli headed to the bathroom. Cooking all day had left him feeling greasy. While the shower warmed, he stripped off his clothes and untied his hair. It fell in loose ringlets just below his shoulders. His dad looked at Eli’s hair and his earrings, tightened his mouth, but never said a word. Eli had discarded the idea of getting it cut, needing something to help him retain some individuality.

  The shower spray tingled and teased, relaxing him as it washed away the grease of burgers, dogs, steaks, fries, and onion rings. Eli leaned back against the stall wall and let his head rest while he closed his eyes and allowed the water to sluice over him. He thought back to Luke telling him Bash had wandered away from the window. At first, he figured his son had simply gone after a missing car, but then when the boy hadn’t reappeared, Eli had felt a sick moment of dread.

  Had Heather found them already? Didn’t matter that he had sole custody. Didn’t matter that it was perfectly legal for him to move. He’d had to get a restraining order to keep her away. It was one thing when all she did was hit him up for money, but then she’d started in on Bash. Tension knotted his stomach. All he wanted was peace for him and his son, a chance for Bash to have a normal childhood in a safe community.

  Stepping from the shower, Eli wrapped a towel around his lean hips and got out a second one to dry his hair. He was exhausted. Thank God Eddie would be back tomorrow.

  * * * *

  Becca opened the windows in her high-ceilinged apartment and let in the cool night breeze. She’d turned down a dinner invitation from her brother, Jake, and his wife, Holly, so she could unpack more of her things. After an hour, Becca stretched and wandered down to the kitchen to get some tea.

  She was still keyed up, so remembering her run-in with Eli Mercer did nothing to soothe her. She owed him an apology. Big time. She had been totally and completely in the wrong. Although she could only imagine how he felt, she knew what a state she would have been in had it been her niece, Noelle, the twins, or her newest nephew, Elijah.

  Yep, she needed to apologize.

  The next morning, Becca blew out a nervous breath. Eli arrived at Mercer’s early, so she would too. From her own experience working as a pastry chef, she knew there were always food deliveries and paperwork that needed to be done. Becca looked down at the softly flowing patterned skirt and the silky cotton T-shirt she had on and grimaced. That was about as good as it got, she supposed. When you were bigger and taller than a lot of men, the delicate feminine look was hard to achieve. About the best she’d ever been able to hope for was the Allred brothers’ kid sister look. That at least acknowledged she was female. She’d left her long, wavy hair loose except for a couple of combs pulling it back at her temples. She checked her reflection in the mirror in her apartment, bit her lips to put a bit of color in them, and hurried downstairs. After picking up the torte she’d made last night, Becca carefully placed it inside a baker’s box and set off across the square.

  Her heart beat a little erratically, and she had to resist the urge to stop once again and adjust her skirt and shirt. She would just get the apology over with—quick, professional, impersonal—and she’d be on her way back over to train her nephew, Jared. There was no reason to be nervous. She was just visiting Eli. She’d known him forever—and crushed on him just as long. It was no big deal.

  Becca pulled open the door to Mercer’s with one hand, balancing the torte in the other, and walked in, her eyes automatically searching for Eli’s towering form. She tried to ignore her pounding heart and the flush she felt creeping over her. Five minutes and she could go back across the square, back to being just plain Becca Allred, who would keep her secret fascination for Eli Mercer just that—secret.

  * * * *

  Bash had been clingy when he woke up, not wanting to stay with his Gram. He was always like that when he
had nightmares. They weren’t as frequent as they had been at the coast. Nevertheless, Eli was late and expecting deliveries from both his produce supplier and his bread van. The bread delivery was already in, and the driver waiting to be paid when Eli got there, but when the produce truck hadn’t arrived by nine-thirty, Eli called.

  “Damn!” He slammed the phone back into the charger in disgust. The truck was on the highway with a flat tire. Eli would be tight on lettuce and slaw if they had any kind of busy day at all. What the fuck was he going to do now...raid Tarpley’s? If he had to, yeah. Whatever it took to make sure customers were happy. Since the grocery was just around the corner, it would be easy enough to purchase produce as the need arose.

  When the bell over the door sounded, he looked up. Becca Allred. While he could appreciate all those curves and curls, he could do without the distraction. Eli slid out of the booth where he’d been working and stalked toward the front door. She had a box in her hand and a smile on her face.

  “I brought you a peace offering and an apology.”

  When he didn’t say anything, her pale green eyes skittered away. She was too close, too overpowering, with a face and figure that positively screamed sex. Don’t look at the boobs. Did she always have to wear something that made him want to reach out and touch? He’d lusted after her from the moment she’d developed curves in junior high school.

  “Sorry about yesterday. I didn’t think.” She tried to smile again, but it was a little more guarded than before. That was good. He needed her to go away so he could concentrate.

  “No, you didn’t think. But you’re not a parent, so you wouldn’t understand. Stay away from my boy, Rebecca.” He used her full name, remembering how she’d hated it as a kid. “Go back to your little shop. And keep your peace offering.” He shoved the box back in her hands.

  When she raised her gaze again, her eyes positively snapped with temper. It was like watching lightning bolts crackling across the sky, and against his will, his body stirred. And that just irritated him more. He wanted her to be chastened not pissed.

  “Are you always this rude or is it just me you can’t stand?” she asked. “I’m sorry I tried to be friendly to your son. I’m sorry I didn’t realize he was yours. I’d never seen him before. What more do you want?”

  “I want you to take your ass out of my restaurant and back across the square to your little shop.”

  Nearly as tall as he was, she thrust her chin forward and slapped one hand on her hip. “That’s the second time you’ve referred to my business as ‘your little shop.’ Is that the real problem, Eli? Are you feeling threatened by the prospect of a little competition?”

  His eyes narrowed. “You got that right, honey. All you are is a little competition. Mercer’s has been here for two generations, and we’ll still be here when you’ve gone back to whatever hoity-toity restaurant you came from.”

  She tossed her long hair over her shoulder, shoved the bakery box into his chest, and stormed toward the door.

  “We’ll see who’s still here when the dust settles,” she flung over her shoulder and shoved the door open so that it slammed against the recessed entryway.

  Eli stared at the squashed box in his hands and at Becca’s retreating form, his eyes drawn like a magnet to the sway of her hips.

  “Damn, Eli,” Ruthie said. “A little hard on her, weren’t you?”

  “She’s a spoiled little princess who’s never had to earn her way. We’ll see how long she lasts.”

  He tossed the box onto the table next to him. Ruthie opened it. Inside were the remains of what looked like a berry and brownie torte. She dipped her finger in and brought a hunk up to her mouth.

  “I don’t know what she knows about business,” Ruthie said around the mouthful of sweet, “but she sure as hell can bake. You should taste this.”

  Eli glanced at the now messed up torte and felt a stab of guilt. She hadn’t deserved his temper, but if it scared her off then that was a good thing. A very good thing.

  * * * *

  Becca stalked back across the square, staring resolutely straight ahead until she closed the door behind her. She was embarrassed, hurt, and absolutely livid. And it was the last that was triggering the waterworks. The first sob came out and was quickly followed by another.

  Her nephew, Jared, stood in the doorway to the kitchen, his hands propped nervously just inside the pockets of his jeans.

  “Aunt Becca? Are you okay?”

  She’d completely forgotten he would be here. Feeling her face flush, she turned slightly away and wiped her eyes with her hands.

  “It’s nothing. I’m okay. Just mad. Go ahead and wash up. I’ll be in the kitchen in a minute so we can walk through what you’ll be doing to begin with.” She turned and smiled slightly before she dashed upstairs.

  Becca ripped off the shirt and skirt and threw on an oversized man’s shirt and cotton scrub pants. They would be roomy and cool in the kitchen. God knows why she had even tried to impress Eli Mercer. Prick! She scrubbed off what little make-up she’d put on and scraped her hair into a knot. When she realized her hands were shaking, she put them down on top of her antique dressing table and made herself take several long, deep breaths.

  Focus. She had her goals outlined. She had gone over and over her business plan. It had been sound enough that Senator Richardson had been willing to invest. She would not—could not—allow Eli Mercer to get to her like this. So what if she had spent the time up until he left town with a horrible puppy love crush on him. That was years ago, a lifetime ago. He’d made it abundantly clear he wanted nothing to do with her. And he still didn’t. At least it wasn’t like the last guy. Becca didn’t have relationships. She had disasters.

  She stomped back downstairs and into the kitchen. Jared was walking around looking at everything, his blue eyes wide. The eagerness and wonder in his expression lifted her spirits and made her anger evaporate. Becca smiled and leaned against the counter with her arms crossed.

  “So, why do you want to work here?”

  He stopped, startled, and grinned at her. “Hey, Aunt Becca. Glad to see you’re back to you. You kinda scared me going all girly and everything.”

  “Sorry. It wasn’t anything important. So are you just looking for a summer job or do you really have an interest in culinary arts?”

  He grinned sheepishly. “I really do like to cook. I caught shit...oops sorry...I got a lot of grief at school about it, especially from the guys on the basketball team.”

  “So I’m not just a way to make some money and shut your dad up?”

  “Oh, no. I have this secret Food Network vice. I think some of those chefs are so cool, you know? Like The Ace of Cakes—I mean the guy bakes like nobody’s business. And Cake Wars? That is like the best.”

  Becca laughed. “Okay, but Jared, This is the real world, and the real world in a small town, at that. Some of that stuff on TV is pretty out there. Our baking is likely going to be a lot plainer fare.”

  “That’s cool, Aunt Becca. I haven’t done a whole lot of bread and stuff, but I like to bake cakes, and I really like to decorate.”

  She tilted her head. “What are your art grades like?”

  “A’s... I’ve been working some with Tabby too. She’s been teaching me about color and stuff.”

  “Have you worked with fondant?”

  “Some, but not a lot. I made Rachel’s last birthday cake.” He grinned and blushed. “I have a picture of it on my phone.”

  Becca pursed her lips to keep from laughing. Her nearly sixteen year-old nephew had saved a picture of a cake on his phone? He was almost as bad as she had been. When he handed it to her, she looked at it and raised her brows. It was designed to look like two gift packages, complete with bows, stacked one on top of the other. She looked back up at him, her eyes much more assessing.

  “What kind of cake’s inside?”

  He swiped the screen to show her another view after it had been cut. “Bottom layer was lemon pound cake
and the upper layer a raspberry pecan I came up with on my own by adapting a carrot cake recipe.”

  Becca stepped away from the counter and came over to put her arm around his shoulders. “I’ll hire you on one condition.”

  He suddenly looked worried. “I’ll do anything, Aunt Becca, even if you just want me to sweep the floors and empty the garbage.”

  She laughed, her good humor once more fully restored. “No way. I’ll get one of your basketball teammates to do that grunt work. You can work for me if you promise to stay on after school starts.”

  He hunched his shoulders a bit. “Part time? I have to study, and there’s basketball season, so I might not be able to work as many hours as the summer.”

  “That’s fine. And Jared, if this is really what you want to do, I’ll make a deal with you so you can build up your own reputation for baking and decorating.”

  “You mean you’d let people know that I had done a cake on my own?”

  “You got it.”

  “That is fu...I mean really great!”

  “Now, we can’t do just cakes. Our bread and butter, pun intended, will be fresh baked goods. We’ll go ahead and start on some of the ones you’ll need to be able to do second nature.”

  They began by creating both wheat and white bread dough. Becca patiently showed him how to knead and then, while that dough was rising in the proofer, she moved straight to croissants.

  “We’ll test these out on the family tonight.”

  “Dinner at Aunt Holly and Uncle Jake’s?”

  “Yeah.”

  They worked companionably throughout the day. Becca smiled and laughed, her equilibrium back in balance. Eli Mercer was nothing more than a bad memory, but then baking had always lifted her up.