The Husband Recipe by Linda Winstead Jones Read Free Book Online Page B

note of how amazing he looked without a shirt? Sculpted muscles, wide shoulders, slightly hairy chest, not even a hint of a pot belly. This was a crisis, and all of her attention really should’ve been on the injured child. And to be fair, she’d only given a shirtless Cole Donovan a small bit of her attention. Just enough to note that he must still work out, because muscles like that did not come from folding laundry and eating chicken fingers. Just enough to be surprised that he had a tattoo on his shoulder—a small baseball with flames shooting out behind it, as if it were flying past a particularly nice muscle.
Cole and Justin had been taken back a while ago, leaving Lauren in the waiting room with a sullen Meredith and a scared Hank. Meredith actually leaned away from Lauren, and probably would’ve taken another seat if there had been one available. On a holiday weekend the E.R. was packed, and the only empty chair was next to a dubious-looking character. Lauren was relieved that she ranked above a constantly mumbling man with a scraggly beard and a nasty rash.
Hank was another story entirely. He leaned into Lauren, resting his head on her arm, taking her hand and holding on. Somehow he managed to hang on without ever being entirely still. He hadn’t said much, but his attitude toward her was decidedly warmer than his sister’s.
Eventually he lifted his head and looked up at Lauren with the biggest blue eyes she’d ever seen. He had his father’s eyes. In fact, Hank and his younger brother were both little carbon copies of their dad. And he whispered, “Justin’s not going to die, is he?”
Lauren’s heart broke for the child. “Oh, no, honey. Justin is going to be just fine.” She should’ve said something before now, should’ve soothed the child’s fears hours ago, but she hadn’t even considered that they’d be worried the injury was more serious than it was. Deadly serious. “He’ll have a boo-boo on his head, and he might have a headache for a while, but he’s going to be just fine.”
Meredith scoffed and muttered, “Boo-boo?”
Lauren ignored her.
“My mother is dead,” Hank said. “I don’t remember her, but Dad shows me pictures and tells me stories about her.”
Lauren felt as if a brick had settled in her chest. She didn’t know what to say, what to do to soothe a child who knew more about death than he should. “I know,” she whispered.
“Dad told us not to run around the pool,” Hank said, relaxing visibly. “But one of the other kids started chasing Justin, and he just…”
“She doesn’t care, Hank,” Meredith said coolly. “Don’t talk her ear off.”
It would be easiest just to ignore Meredith and settle back into silence. But these kids and their father were going to be her neighbors for a long while. It would be easiest if they could find a way to get along.
Lauren didn’t let go of Hank’s hand, but she turned toward Meredith and gave the young girl her full attention. Meredith must look like her mother, because she didn’t look much like Cole at all. The nose, maybe a bit through the mouth. But she had blond hair and dark brown eyes, and a heart-shaped face that was almost pixielike. She was almost as tall as Lauren. And right now there was so much anger on that pretty face. “I do care,” Lauren said softly.
“You’re just trying to impress my dad.” Meredith turned her head so she was no longer looking at Lauren. “He’s famous, and you don’t have a husband or a boyfriend, and if you’re nice to us it’s just because you want to impress him.”
“To be honest, Meredith, your dad used to be famous, I don’t want or need a husband or a boyfriend, and I’m nice to you because you’re my neighbor. I don’t go out of my way to impress anyone. Good manners and a willingness to help should be extended to everyone.” Okay, so she was channeling her grandmother on that last one. That didn’t mean it wasn’t true.
“There are baseball cards with his