Recipe for Kisses
Authors: Michelle Major
ALSO BY MICHELLE MAJOR
Still the One
Her Accidental Engagement
A Brevia Beginning
A Kiss on Crimson Ranch
A Second Chance at Crimson Ranch
The Taming of Delany Fortune (The Fortunes of Texas: Cowboy Country)
Kissing Mr. Right
A Very Crimson Christmas
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Text copyright © 2016 Michelle Major
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by Montlake Romance, Seattle
Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Montlake Romance are trademarks of
Amazon.com
, Inc., or its affiliates.
ISBN-13: 9781503952263
ISBN-10: 1503952266
Cover design by Shasti O’Leary-Soudant / SOS CREATIVE LLC
To Matt, Jackson, and Jessie—my three favorite people in the world. I love you more than bacon, chocolate, and Rocky Road ice cream.
CONTENTS
C
HAPTER ONE
C
hloe Daniels crumpled the piece of paper in her hand. “How did this happen?”
Her friend and coworker, Karen Henderson, took the letter and placed it on the counter at the back of the toy store Chloe owned in the Highlands neighborhood northwest of downtown Denver. “It won’t help to ignore it at this point. How long has it been since you opened the mail?”
“A couple weeks,” Chloe admitted, taking a fortifying breath. “Maybe three. I was waiting to get the sales numbers from last month before I opened the bills.” She glanced up at Karen, who nodded in understanding. Chloe didn’t have to explain to her one full-time employee that she’d waited with the hope that the profits would be enough to cover the rent, utilities, and other bills that were piling up faster than she could pay them.
Since she’d bought The Toy Chest almost four years ago, she’d struggled to keep the shop in the black. The popularity of the neighborhood helped, but Chloe had sunk thousands of dollars into remodeling the store when she’d bought the business to make it fit with the hip, trendy area. Then there were her employees. Although she didn’t regret her decision to continually hire new staff and offer benefits and bonuses as she could, her commitment to the women who worked at the shop limited her ability to get ahead.
She focused on the crisp type of the one-page letter and the only three words that really mattered.
Nonrenewal of lease.
There was too much at stake to give in to the familiar fear of failing that had coalesced in her chest since she’d first read those words. “I can’t lose this store. It saved me.”
“It saved all of us,” Karen murmured.
Chloe had met Karen at the first domestic violence support group meeting she’d attended when she moved to Denver. She’d been up to her neck in renovations and had begun to have panic attacks as she dealt with some of the male construction workers on-site every day. Her divorce and the fear her ex-husband instilled in her had still been fresh wounds. She’d gone to the meeting looking for coping strategies to make sure her anxiety didn’t jeopardize her new life.
With her grandmotherly personality, Karen had immediately taken Chloe under her wing and offered to be at the shop for support. It was still hard to believe that the sixty-year-old woman, who looked like she was waiting for the second coming of Woodstock, had once been a high-society Park Avenue matron, but Chloe understood too well that domestic abuse wasn’t limited to a certain socioeconomic demographic. The two of them had spent long hours in those first few months talking about their situations and how to help other women. Financial constraints were one of the biggest reasons victims of abuse didn’t leave, so the plan to hire women referred by the local shelter had been conceived.
“I’ve got to find a way to convince the new owner to renew the lease.”
Absently she picked out one of the small windup toys from the bin next to the cash register. She turned the small gear then sat the orange bird on top of the counter, where it pecked its plastic beak at the paper while walking across it. “I’ve sunk everything I have into this place. At the rate I’m going, I won’t pay off my credit cards until the next decade.”
“If only you’d focused more on sales and profit instead of . . .”
Chloe held up a hand. “Don’t go there, Karen. The Toy Chest was a new start for me, and part of that is helping other women change their lives.” She still had to work out a plan, but Chloe was determined to save her store.
The chimes above the front door jingled as a teenage girl and younger boy walked in. “Welcome to The Toy Chest,” Chloe called out automatically. It was morning on a beautiful early June day and only one family, a young couple with two toddler-age children, was browsing in the store. Chloe expected a bigger crowd to come in after lunch, especially since she was hosting a craft class later in the community room at the back of the shop.
“You’re not going to help anyone if you go out of business.” Karen wrapped her wrinkled fingers around the mug of tea she constantly refilled throughout the day.
“Maybe that’s my angle.” Chloe caught the plastic bird as it fell off the edge of the counter and dropped it into the bin. “This letter,” she said, picking up the piece of paper, “is from a property management company. Who knows if the new owner of the building even understands how important the shop is to the community.” She scanned the brief paragraphs in more detail. “If I can figure out who runs BH Holdings, I can appeal to them personally.”
Karen set down her mug on the workspace behind the counter. “You assume everyone has your heart, dear.”
“Everyone has
some
heart,” Chloe argued then shook her head. “Well, not everyone. Not my ex-husband.” She folded the letter that threatened everything she’d worked to create these past few years and placed it in the drawer behind the desk. “But I hope whoever holds the fate of The Toy Chest in his or her hands has a bigger heart than this letter suggests.”
“We need to think positive,” Karen said and gave her a small hug.
Chloe turned her attention to the family who’d approached the register while Karen walked around the counter to check on the other customers. The little girl held two stuffed animals in her arms while the boy, probably a few years older, carried a building set. She talked to the parents for a few minutes and discovered they were visiting Colorado from southern Nebraska, so she recommended several games that would be good for the long car ride home.
Despite what Karen probably thought, Chloe wasn’t totally inept as a businessperson, but that hadn’t been her biggest priority in running the store. This had been a safe haven for her when she’d needed it most, and Chloe had wanted to make that true for every person who walked through the front door. Now she could add this business to the list of unwise decisions she’d made in life that had come back to bite her in the butt. Maybe it wasn’t too late and she could convince the building’s new owner to give her another chance.
Just as Chloe started to walk the family over to the display, Karen called to her. “Chloe, I need your help. Right. Now.”
The other woman’s tone held an unfamiliar note of urgency so she excused herself from the family and hurried around a huge display of plastic farm and jungle animals. Karen held the arm of the boy who’d come into the store a few minutes earlier, while the teen girl pulled the kid’s other arm as he squirmed between them. The two kids were clearly related, with the same mahogany-colored hair, although the girl had eyes so dark they were almost black, while the boy’s were a clear blue.
Karen was tiny but no pushover and she wagged a finger in the girl’s face. “I saw him put the marbles in his pocket. I’m not going to let him steal from this store.”
“You can’t prove it,” the teen said, staring at the boy. “You didn’t steal anything, right, Zach?”
The boy shook his head but didn’t make eye contact with any of them.
“Karen wouldn’t make an accusation lightly,” Chloe said as she assessed the children. She glanced over her shoulder, happy to see the family bent in front of the shelf that held the travel toys. She hated public scenes so she needed to deal with this situation before it got out of hand. “If your brother,” she said calmly to the girl, “would empty his pockets, I’m sure we can handle this amicably.”
The boy eyed her as if the word
amicably
might mean “with a shot of penicillin.”
Karen shook her head. “We need to call the police, Chloe. Shoplifting is a serious offense.”
Chloe wanted to roll her eyes at her friend. They’d certainly dealt with kids trying to steal toys on more than one occasion. If they could work things out with the parents, the police were never called, but Karen always liked to throw out the threat. She said it was her brand of “scared straight.”
“Are you babysitting?” Chloe asked the teen. She looked to be about fourteen or fifteen and the boy closer to eight or nine. “Can you give me your mom or dad’s phone number?”
The girl’s eyes widened a fraction before narrowing. “There’s no one to call,” she said with a defiant lift of her chin. “It’s just us, and he didn’t take any stupid marbles.”
“I’m calling the police,” Karen said again.
Before Chloe could argue, the girl released the boy’s arm. She darted behind him and slammed against the huge Plexiglas display of animals. It was almost five feet high with seven levels of shelves that held hundreds of animals plus prehistoric and mythical creatures. Karen, Chloe, and the boy all jumped back as plastic animals spilled across the store and the display case crashed to the ground, smashing to pieces with a crack.
“Zach, run,” the girl yelled over her shoulder.
In shock, Chloe’s eyes darted to Karen and the boy. Karen had released his arm in the commotion and he took off for the front door. Karen dashed after him as the teenager climbed slowly to her feet. Chloe’s potential customers stood near the far side of the store, four mouths agape.
“You have your hands full,” the man said when Chloe made eye contact with him. “We’ll stop back after lunch.”
“You don’t have to go,” Chloe said, but they were already hurrying toward the entrance.
She wanted to follow them, but the girl was ducking to the side, clearly ready to make her escape.
“Not so fast,” Chloe said and grabbed the back of the teen’s soft T-shirt.
“He got away,” Karen said as she came back into the store, passing the family on their way out. She stood guard at the front door but kept her hands on her knees as she struggled to catch her breath.
“Call the cops, then,” the girl shouted, shrugging out of Chloe’s grasp. She crossed her arms over her small chest. “I’ll never give up Zach.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Chloe pressed her fingertips to her temples as she surveyed the damage to her store. She struggled to keep her temper in check. Chloe never raised her voice. Never. “We weren’t going to call the police.” She pointed at Karen. “You scare kids when you threaten that.”
“He stole from the store,” the other woman argued. “He should be scared.”
“Wait.” The girl put her hands on her hips and scowled like only a teenager could. “You mean you weren’t going to have him arrested?”
Chloe gave a halfhearted laugh. “For a few marbles? No.” She looked again at the mess spread across her shop and thought of the hours of work it would take to sort the figurines, plus the cost of replacing the display cabinet.
“But now?” For the first time there was a hitch in the girl’s voice, some of her bravado melting away as she realized exactly what she’d gotten herself into by allowing her brother to run.
“What’s your name?” Chloe asked.
The girl’s lips thinned and she didn’t answer.
Chloe tried a different tack. “What did you mean when you said it’s just you and your brother?”
“No,” Karen said, stepping forward. “You are not going to take on another lost soul.” Karen swept her arms wide. “Look at what she did to the store.”
“I know,” Chloe said softly. “We can fix the mess.” She offered the girl a small smile. “Tell me your name.”
The teenager’s mouth opened then snapped shut. Her eyes tracked to the now-unguarded front door and she took a quick step in that direction before Chloe reached for her arm.
“Don’t touch me,” the girl yelled at the same time a deep, masculine voice bellowed, “What the hell is going on in here?”
All three women stopped and looked toward the front of the store. Chloe’s breath caught at seeing the man filling the doorway. He was big, broad, and clearly pissed. His dark hair was cropped short with just a bit brushed over his forehead. While his features were striking, they were also hard as a sheer mountain peak. He could have been classically handsome, but there was a darkness about him that made him more intriguing. It was as if she could sense trouble in the thin lines fanning out around his eyes. Chloe had too much trouble in her past. She wasn’t looking for any more of it.
He held the girl’s younger brother by the scruff of the neck and his gaze landed on the teenager for a moment. Chloe could feel the girl shrink beside her, as if folding in on herself. She was transfixed by the teenager’s face and how it went from swagger to absolute terror.
Chloe could relate to terror. Terror used to be her regular companion.
“Is someone going to answer me?” The huge man spoke again. Chloe looked at him, and she had to fight the urge to turn in on herself like she once would have. Because the man silhouetted by the late-morning light looked mad as hell. And most of that anger was directed at Chloe.
B
en Haddox was having a crappy morning to top off a crappy week that was the icing on a craptastic month. It was still unbelievable how quickly things had gone to hell in his life. Two months ago he’d been sitting on top of the world. He’d had everything he’d worked for—fame, money, and a hugely successful career. Now he couldn’t manage to control any of it, especially not his wayward niece and nephew, who seemed to have descended on this tiny store with their personal brand of destruction.
Zach shifted in his grasp. “You’re hurting me,” the boy whined, making Ben realize he was holding too tightly to Zach’s thin arm.
