On Lavender Lane (43 page)

“And here’s the deal. I understand your need to be cautious. To not make the same mistake you did with the Frenchman. But I’m not your mistake, Maddy. I’m your forever-after love. The same way you’re mine.

“So, rather than spend the next ten years arguing about when you’re going to just give in and agree to spend the rest of our lives together, I have a challenge for you.”

“A challenge?” This was definitely not what she’d been expecting. Hadn’t she already had enough challenges for one day?

“More like a throw-down.”

“A throw-down,” she echoed.

“Yeah. Like that guy does on TV. You know, where he goes and tries to outcook some other cook.”

“
Throwdown with Bobby Flay
,” she said, realizing the popular show he was talking about. “You, who eats Pop-Tarts and doesn’t even know how to operate a can opener, are challenging me to a throw-down?”

“That’s about it,” he agreed. “If you win—”

“Which I will.” She could outcook this man blindfolded and with one hand tied behind her back.

“Don’t be so sure. You are, sweetheart, looking at one motivated SEAL on a mission, and one of the things we have drilled into us in BUD/S training is that failure is not an option. However, if, by any chance, you win, I’ll shut up and wait for you to realize what you’re missing out on.

“But if I win, we get married. You can pick the place, but you’ve got a week after the throw-down to do whatever wedding planning you need to do, because that’s as long as
I’m willing to wait to claim my prize.” He flashed her a wicked grin. “Which would be you, Chef Maddy.”

“You do realize that’s an outrageously chauvinistic statement.”

“You do realize that right now, I don’t really give a flying fuck.”

Madeline could tell by the set of his jaw, by the F word, which he seldom used, and by the determination in his dark eyes, that he was just as serious as he’d ever been in battle. But the irony of their once again mismatched timing made her laugh. She’d been about to tell him, if he hadn’t interrupted her, that she wanted to marry him as soon as possible.

“Bring it on,” she said.

58

Maddy might be a professionally trained chef who’d cooked in European kitchens. She might be a celebrity with cookbooks and TV shows and legions of fans.

But she was not a SEAL.

Which was why Lucas had not a single doubt that he’d accomplish his mission.

He started with Bon Temps.

“Skip the beer,” he said when Sax pulled a bottle out of the cooler as he walked in the door.

“Want something else?”

“Yeah. I want you to teach me to cook.”

Lucas wasn’t all that surprised when Sax laughed.

“I’m serious,” Lucas said. “I need to know how to cook. And not just cook. But I need to outcook Maddy in a throw-down.”

Sax rubbed a cheek stubbled with a late-afternoon beard. “How long do we have?”

“Three days.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“I’m as serious as a heart attack.”

“Remember that night we dragged Shane up the mountain, half-dead, into Pakistan?” Sax asked.

“Like I’d forget that,” Lucas said impatiently. “Why bring it up now?”

“Because teaching you to cook better than Maddy is going to make that look like a Sunday stroll in the park.”

Lucas set his jaw. “Then let’s quit wasting time and get started. Give me a grocery list, because I have to go out to Concannon’s farm. No way am I going to lose points for not going organic.”

“Okay.” Sax thought for a moment. “She’ll be expecting you to go Cajun, ’cause she knows I’d be the first person you’d come to.”

“That would be my guess.”

“She’d also probably expect you to use some sort of seafood, since that’s all the stuff from here you’ve got in the cottage fridge.”

“Maybe because it’s what I always order.”

“So she’ll be preparing her strategy around that. The thing to do is throw her a curveball. Do exactly the opposite of what she’s expecting. Which is what we SEALs do best.”

“Roger that.”

“We’ll go ahead with with Cajun, but switch out the fish for stuffed pork chops. Concannon’s got great pork. You can serve it with some dirty rice, and, I’d say, just maybe you stand half a chance of not embarrassing yourself by getting your ass kicked too bad.”

He scribbled down the shopping list.

Lucas snatched it from his hand. “I’ll be back.”

“Well,” Sax said, as he turned the sign to
CLOSED
after Lucas marched out the door like a guy going into battle, which he sort of was. “This could prove interesting.”

His next stop was to Lavender Hill Farm. Fortunately, Maddy, who’d decided to stay at the farm during the throw-down preparations—undoubtedly to keep her menu a secret—had already left for Concannon’s. He only hoped she didn’t take all the guy’s pork chops. Although he tried to get Sofia to give him a hint as to what his opponent was
planning to prepare, either the older woman didn’t know, or was trying to stay neutral.

“I need a soup,” he said. “Something that’ll go with a hot Cajun dish.”

“What color is your dish going to be?”

Lucas gave her a blank look. Color? Now he had to think about that? “I didn’t ask Sax. Maybe pork-colored?”

She shook her head. “I’ll say a little prayer to St. Jude for you,” she offered. “He’s the patron saint of impossible causes.”

“Thanks. But I just need a soup recipe.”

“There’s nothing prettier than a spring pea soup,” she offered. “It’s not very difficult, peas go with anything, and you can cool down the heat of the Cajun pork with a bit of crème fraîche or yogurt and crouton garnish.”

“Make it yogurt,” he said. “I don’t even know what that other stuff is.”

“Yogurt it is,” she agreed. “Ethan’s peas probably won’t be ready to pick yet, but you’re fortunate. I have some in my greenhouse.”

He reached across the counter, where she was writing down the recipe for him, framed her weathered face in his hands, and kissed her. Right on the lips.

“Well,” she said, blushing just a bit. “Apparently, it’s true. That the way to a man’s heart
is
through his stomach.”

“You’ve had mine since the spaghetti and meatballs you fed me when I was a kid,” he said. “And I would’ve come to you for the main course, but I figured this is enemy territory. Maddy could cook Italian in her sleep. So I’ve got to come up with a surprise strategy.”

“Well, I should be neutral,” she said. “But in case it’ll help your confidence, I put ten dollars on you in the town pool.”

That was fast. Though he wasn’t surprised. News had always spread like wildfire through Shelter Bay. Partially due
to the owner of the market, who’d probably been burning up telephone wires all over town.

“Sofia De Luca,” he said, “if I weren’t going to marry your granddaughter, you’d definitely be my first choice.”

He kissed her again, this time on the cheek, and headed off to the farm.

“I’ve been wondering if you were going to show up,” Sedona Sullivan told Lucas as he walked into Take the Cake and introduced himself the next morning. “I’m honored to be included. I suppose you want to know how to make cupcakes?”

“Too easy,” he said. Then cringed. “I didn’t mean
baking
them was too easy. Because you’ve obviously got it down to an art. But I want something Maddy’s not expecting. Something that’ll knock the judges’ socks off.”

“Well, that’s quite a challenge.”

“That’s why I’ve come to you. You’re a risk taker. You gave up that cushy, big-money CPA career to open a cupcake shop in a small coastal town. Not many people would do that. But you did, and you made it work. So, give me something outside the box. Because I intend to win this.”

“Well, then, we’ll have to see that you do,” she said. “How do you feel about setting something on fire?”

Hoo-yah!
“It’s one of the things SEALs do best.”

“Okay. We’ll go for bananas flambé over vanilla bean ice cream. It’s easy peasy. And a showstopper.”

“That’s what I need.” He grinned. “I owe you.”

“Hey, I’m only doing my patriotic duty. Besides, you falling back in love with Maddy saved me from suffering through Charity’s embarrassing set-up barbecue.”

Damn.
He hadn’t realized she even knew about that. “It wasn’t anything personal,” he assured her.

“I didn’t take it that way. I’m probably a bit more New Agey than some people, having grown up on a commune,
but I’m a total believer in fate. When I’m supposed to meet Mr. Right, it’ll happen.”

She was one of the prettiest women Lucas had ever seen. Not glamorous-movie-star pretty. More girl next door. And the best thing was that she was every bit as nice as Charity and Sax had both told him she was. “He’s going to be one lucky guy.”

Her smile was wide and filled with laughter. “You know it.”

59

The day of the throw-down dawned bright and sunny, which was fortunate, because it allowed what appeared to be half the town to show up at Lavender Hill Farm to watch the event held on the back lawn.

Chairs from a rental shop in Depoe Bay had been brought in for spectators and a table draped in purple linen set up for the judges—Anne Taylor, chef of the Sea Mist; Jill Stevens, a cookbook author who’d driven up from Newport; and Dan Kenyon, a chef who’d won accolades at his Portland restaurant and who’d recently opened up a place overlooking the mouth of the Columbia River in Astoria.

Although Maddy had refused to let her producer at the Cooking Network tape the show—she didn’t want to embarrass Lucas on national television—she had called and asked her to choose the panel, to assure everyone that the voting would be fair.

Adding icing to the metaphorical cake, Pepper surprised her by arriving at the farm earlier that morning, a visit she’d apparently arranged behind Maddy’s back with Sofia.

“How long are you intending to stay?” Maddy asked.

“I was planning to leave right after I made sure you weren’t making a mistake. But after meeting your way-hot Navy SEAL, I can understand why you don’t want to return to New York.”

“Lucas is special. And definitely one of a kind.” He was also, amazingly, wonderfully, hers.

“Well, any woman could tell that. But it’s the way he looks at you when he thinks no one’s looking that won me over. Well done, Madeline.” Her glance skimmed over the gathered crowd. “I also had a brief chat with that sexy Paul Newman look-alike.”

“Flynn McGrath.”

“That’s him. I’ve never been much for stockbrokers, since you can’t throw a rock anywhere in Manhattan without hitting one, and an affair with an artist is a bit of a cliché, but there is definitely something to be said for a man who works with his hands.”

“His wood work is fabulous.”

“So he told me, with an appealing, studly swagger.” Her gaze found the subject of their conversation. As their eyes met, Maddy could almost hear the sizzle. “You know, it’s been a very long time since I took any time off. Now that the contract for your new program is wrapped up, we’ve gotten you out of the pots-and-pans business and turned down the airline-food deal, and my hunky astronaut has signed on to be the new Bachelor, it’s not that I have any pressing business to attend to. So I may just extend my visit a few days.”

Basking in the glow of a love that she’d thought had been lost forever, and wanting everyone to be as happy as she was right now, Maddy smiled at the idea of her high-powered agent and a man who’d given up the fast track to create stunning wooden art.

Varying from the concept of the popular television program, both Maddy and Lucas were responsible for a three-course menu they’d been allowed to choose themselves. Maddy knew that Sofia had helped Lucas with his soup, so wasn’t at all surprised he’d gone with a spring pea. The color, the ease, and the taste, which would suit just about
any dish, made it a wise choice and something he probably could pull off well.

If he didn’t scorch it on the gas burners that had been set up in the middle of the yard.

The stuffed pork chops were a surprise. Especially since they weren’t on the Bon Temps menu. But she couldn’t imagine even someone who knew what he was doing being able to beat her braised chicken legs with garlic and onion on mashed potatoes. Although it wasn’t a difficult dish—which is undoubtedly why Lucas’ godfather’s wife had been able to prepare it so well for their dinner in Portland—being able to achieve such flavor with so few ingredients was part of what made it so special.

Although she knew it was a bit cliché, she’d chosen a raspberry crème brûlée, and had to laugh when she saw that both of them were using flame for their final course. Though, naturally, Lucas, being a SEAL, was going to set his entire pan on fire, rather than use a torch to delicately brown the sugar atop the custard.

Since it wasn’t like the television throw-down, with the entire event appearing as if it took place within thirty minutes, with time out for commercials, Sax’s parents, former musicians who’d performed at Bon Temps for years, had agreed to entertain the crowd during the cooking. Sax had also rounded up some Irish step dancers and fiddlers from Corvallis who performed at Bon Temps during his weekly Celtic nights.

Everyone showed up looking as if they were prepared for a good time.

Everyone except the man who’d issued the throw-down challenge in the first place. Lucas’ stone face and flinty eyes were that of a man going into battle.

Lucas had to give Maddy points for the damn tortilla soup. Hell, even he’d rather eat Mexican than peas. It also was a lot more complicated than the recipe Sofia had given him.
But he did manage to blend the soup without having it blow off the blender’s lid, the way it had the first time he’d tried it under the older woman’s supervision. Although he wasn’t one for nuances, it tasted great and even he could see it was pretty.

He actually thought he might have her a bit on the pork chops. He never would have thought of stuffing a pork chop. Especially with ground pork, which seemed redundant, but when he’d made it with Sax, somehow, mixed with the cayenne, garlic, pepper, paprika, and green onions, it worked. Really, really well.