The Single Dad's Family Recipe

Chapter One

As Eliza Coleman stared at the door of the new restaurant at McKinnel’s Distillery, she forced a smile to her lips. The action ached a little because her facial muscles were rusty from neglect. But today she needed to put the last couple of years in a box and at least feign a little positivity. No way Lachlan McKinnel would want to employ a sad sack as head hostess for his exciting new venture, the phrase he’d used to describe his new restaurant in the online advertisement she’d read.

She hadn’t actually been looking for employment in Oregon but she hadn’t not been looking either. Living on her grandmother’s couch in her tiny apartment in New York wasn’t terrible—she adored Grammy Louise—but lately Grammy had been trying to coax her up off the couch and out of the house. She’d even suggested coming along to her salsa class or signing up for online dating.

Eliza shuddered at the thought of both. The last time she’d been on a date was almost six years ago and she’d married that guy. Did people even go on dates anymore? From what her girlfriends told her, hookups were the name of the game now. And she wasn’t interested in them either.

At first, getting a job had appealed only marginally more than Grammy’s other suggestions—at work, Eliza would have to interact with people—but the more she’d thought about it, the more it seemed like a not-too-bad idea. Work would at least help pass the long hours during the day and she couldn’t live on her savings forever. On a whim, she’d decided to look far and wide because the idea of getting away from everything—going someplace where no one knew her—held a certain appeal.

And that search had brought her to a little mountain town called Jewell Rock. Her plane had touched down only hours ago in nearby Bend and she’d rented a car and driven straight here, not even pausing to find breakfast, despite the loud complaints of her stomach.

She stood in front of the door, her hand trembling as she lifted it to the handle. Her last actual job interview had been almost as long ago as her last date and the whole concept of selling herself terrified her, but then again, what did she have to lose? After everything she’d already lost, a job in a place she’d never heard of a week ago wasn’t the be-all and end-all.

Trying to ignore the debate going on inside her head, she checked her smile was still in place and then pushed open the door. As she stepped inside, her jaw almost touched the polished wooden floorboards. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting but it wasn’t mahogany paneling, flocked wallpaper and Gothic-type mirrors that made her feel as if she’d just stepped back in time. It felt strangely warm and welcoming, like nowhere had felt for a very long time.

Behind the brass-railed bar were floor-to-ceiling whiskey bottles as if someone had traveled the world and returned with a bottle from each city. If Eliza didn’t know for a fact this building was a recent addition to the boutique distillery, she’d have been fooled into believing it was circa 1950s—like the rest of the establishment.

As the door thumped shut behind her, she stepped further into the restaurant and inhaled deeply. The scent of bourbon filled the air but there was also a hint of something sweet that made her empty stomach rumble. Placing a hand against it, she silently willed it to settle, as the last thing she needed was loud gurgling noises emanating from her stomach while Lachlan McKinnel interviewed her.

Hello!

It took a second for her to realize the deep-voiced greeting was coming from off to her right. She turned to see a man with thick golden-blond hair, wearing black trousers and a chef’s white shirt, standing in the doorway to what was clearly the kitchen part of the restaurant. A very good-looking man. The thought took her by surprise and she blinked as he smiled warmly and walked forward to close the gap between them.

Eliza? he asked as he paused in front of her and offered his hand.

She realized she’d been standing there frozen and mute, just staring at him. There was a reason for this—he was much taller and better-looking in person than he’d appeared from the images she’d found online—but it wasn’t a good reason. She wasn’t here to gawk and drool over her potential boss, she was here to impress him. Here to nab herself a job and a new life about as far from New York City and her past life as she could get without leaving the country.

Um, yes, hi. She shook his hand and silently cursed herself for sounding so staccato. You must be Lachlan.

I am. His handshake was firm and she felt a surprising little jolt inside her. Eliza put it down to the fact she hadn’t so much as touched a man in almost a year. It’s a pleasure to meet you.

She nodded as he let go of her hand. Smile. Act happy. Pretend to be someone else if you have to. You, too, she answered chirpily, hoping her tone didn’t sound as awkward to his ears as it did to hers. And this place is gorgeous. I can already imagine it full of people. Did you design it?

His lips quirked a little at one side and she realized he was the one supposed to be asking the questions, but hey, she tended to talk when she was nervous. The concept was mine but I had a lot of help from my brothers and my sisters. Mac, specifically, handled the construction side and Sophie and Annabel had a lot of input on the interior.

Obviously a talented family, she said and then immediately regretted the words. He probably thought she was sucking up or, worse, flirting with him. A cold sweat washed over her at the thought.

But he chuckled. Don’t tell them that, or they’ll get big heads. Now, shall we get started?

Yes, good idea. The sooner they got down to business, the less likely she was to say something stupid.

He led her over to one of the tables—she noticed her résumé waiting there—and held out a chair for her to sit down. As she lowered herself onto the seat, her breath caught a waft of his sweet-and-spicy scent. She couldn’t tell if it was an actual aftershave or if he’d been cooking and the delicious aromas of his creations lingered on him.

Can I get you a drink? Coffee? Whiskey? He winked as he said this last word, yet at the same time she didn’t think he was entirely kidding. It might not be afternoon yet, but this was a whiskey distillery.

She played it safe. Surprise me.

He nodded once and then retreated behind the bar. The urge to turn her head and watch him was almost unbearable but she resisted, choosing instead to take in more of her surroundings. Her eyes were drawn to an old grandfather clock that stood between the doors leading to the bathrooms. It was beautiful and fit right in with the rest of the decor. She could just imagine glancing at it to check the time when she was working.

It’s a beauty, isn’t it?

Eliza snapped her head to the bar at the sound of Lachlan’s voice and saw him, too, admiring the old clock.

My grandfather bought it out from Scotland. It was his father’s, and it’s over a hundred years old. Never misses a beat.

It’s gorgeous, she agreed as he turned back to what he was doing.

A few moments later, he returned to the table and set a glass mug in front of her with what looked (and smelled) like coffee in the bottom and cream on the top. You told me to surprise you, so I thought I might as well try you out on what I hope will be our signature drink.

She drew the mug toward her, picked it up and inhaled deeply, the strong concoction rushing to her head and making her mouth water. This isn’t just coffee, is it?

Lachlan grinned, shook his head and placed a second mug down on the table. Then he discarded the tray on the table beside them, pulled out the chair opposite her and sat. "I don’t plan to offer our patrons just anything here. Go on, taste it!"

She felt his intense gaze boring into her as she took a sip and relished the quick burn of whiskey as she swallowed. It likely wasn’t a good idea to drink on an empty stomach, but she welcomed the little bit of Dutch courage right now. Something about him set her on edge—she told herself it was simply that she needed this job, so she wanted to impress him, but that wasn’t the full story.

She’d been around so many chefs in her life she thought herself immune to the uniform, but the way her pulse sped up around Lachlan McKinnel said otherwise. And he wasn’t even wearing the whole kit and caboodle. Not good. Her hormones needed to calm their farm because whatever ideas they might suddenly have, she wasn’t planning on acting on any attraction, but especially not with someone she worked for.

It’s good, she said as she set the mug down on the table again.

Just good? The smile he’d been wearing since she arrived drooped a little, making her feel as if she’d kicked a puppy.

No. Of course not. She rushed to reassure him. It’s fantastic. The best coffee I’ve ever tasted. I could get addicted to this stuff.

As if to prove her point, she lifted the mug again and took another sip.

He threw back his head and laughed long and loud. It’s okay, I was just kidding. I’m not that pathetic that I need constant reassurance, but I’m glad you like it.

Eliza hadn’t laughed in what felt like forever and appeared to have lost the ability to recognize a joke or playful banter. She summoned that smile back as she lowered the coffee to the table again, not wanting him to think her some straitlaced grump who wouldn’t be able to sweet-talk the customers.

Anyway. Lachlan folded his hands together on the table between them, his expression suddenly serious. You’ve got quite an impressive résumé. The list of restaurants you’ve worked for reads like the Michelin Guide.

Thank you. Her cheeks flushed a little but her stomach tightened as she anticipated his next question: Why did you leave your last job? She’d already decided only to tell him the bare basics and hope he didn’t scrounge around too much online, but miraculously he went much further back than that.

Can you tell me how you got into the restaurant business?

She nodded, knowing he’d eventually ask the inevitable but happy to put it off a little longer. My father was a restaurant critic and my parents were divorced. On the weekends I spent with my dad, he often took me along when he dined for a review. I guess his passion for good food rubbed off on me. I’ve wanted to work in restaurants for as long as I can remember.

He quirked an eyebrow. If you loved food so much, why not become a chef?

Although she willed them not to, she felt her cheeks turn an even brighter shade of red. She dreaded this question almost as much as the other one. A tiny voice inside her head told her to lie, but she knew from experience that doing so could get her into very hot water. Besides, with Lachlan’s big brown eyes trained so intently on her, she didn’t think she’d be able to tell even the smallest fib.

Because I can’t cook, she confessed.

When his expression remained blank, she went on. I’ve tried. Lord knows, Dad paid for every cooking school he could get me into when I was a teenager, but after the fire department had to be called when I burned down the kitchen, word got around.

A small smile broke on his face. Seriously? You burned down a kitchen?

She hung her head in shame and mentally kicked herself. Probably not the best way to sell yourself, Eliza. It was not my finest moment, and after that my grandmother tried to convince me to go into medicine or journalism or law, anything that kept me away from food, but I just couldn’t give up, so I got a job as a waitress instead. Finally, I found something I was good at. Talking about food, serving food and customer service. I haven’t looked back.

Well, usually at this point, I’d ask what your favorite dish to cook is, but I’m predicting microwave popcorn or something, and that’s not really what I had in mind.

She grimaced. Good. Because I burn that, as well.

"At least you’re honest. Lucky I’m not interviewing for the kitchen. So tell me your favorite dish to eat instead."

Millions of foods whirled through her head—it was like asking someone to pick their favorite child, not that she would ever know how that felt. That really depends on the situation, she said, mentally shaking her head at the dark thoughts that threatened. If I’m dining out somewhere classy, you can’t go wrong with duck confit or a good pan-seared salmon fillet, but if I want comfort food, it’s mac’n’cheese every time.

Her heart squeezed a little at the thought of Grammy Louise’s mac’n’cheese—the food she’d practically lived on the last couple of months.

Then you’ll be pleased to know I actually plan on having a mac’n’cheese on our menu—not just any old mac’n’cheese, of course. You haven’t lived until you’ve tasted my whiskey-and-bacon take on the old favorite.

Her mouth watered. That sounds amazing. What else are you planning for the menu?

Obviously pleased by this question, Lachlan began to speak animatedly about the dishes he’d been experimenting with. I want hearty food with a unique flair, showcasing McKinnel’s whiskey as much as possible. Every table will get a complimentary basket of whiskey soda bread, and for starters, we’ll offer things like smoked turkey Reuben sliders, scotch deviled eggs and a whiskey-cheese fondue to share. The mains will be even more whiskey focused, featuring slow-cooked bourbon-glazed ribs, a blue cheese burger in which I mix whiskey into the ground beef...

He went on and on—listing more delicious dishes, including a steak sandwich with bourbon-sauteed mushrooms and a vegetarian option of butternut squash gnocchi with whiskey cream sauce. Eliza made a conscious effort not to drool.

I love the sound of all of that, she said, genuine excitement pumping through her body. You’re making me very hungry.

Really? He grinned, clearly pleased by her response. And I haven’t even started on dessert yet.

I can hardly wait, she replied. Food was something she could talk about till the cows came home and talking about it with Lachlan made her realize how much she’d missed it.

How does caramel-and-whiskey sauce with steamed sponge pudding sound?

Oh. My. God. She couldn’t help moaning at the thought.

Or are pumpkin pancakes with bourbon-vanilla maple syrup more your style? Perhaps you like the sound of blueberry-bourbon-cream-cheese pie or maple-bourbon ice cream.

The way he spoke about the food sounded almost seductive and she felt goose bumps sprout on her arms.

Please stop! She begged, an alien bubble of laughter escaping her throat. I didn’t eat breakfast and I can’t take this anymore.

His lips twisted with amusement. Why didn’t you say so? I just happened to have been playing with my recipe for an Irish apple crisp. How about you taste test for me while we finish the interview?

Lachlan pushed back his chair to stand before she could reply, and as he did so, the door to the restaurant flung open and they both turned to look. A tall, skinny woman with immaculate makeup and peroxide-blond hair stood there, a girl with a sullen expression at her side.

Linda! Hallie! What are you guys doing here? He rushed toward them, stooping to give the girl a hug. Why aren’t you at school? Is something wrong?

I need you to look after Hallie for a while, said the woman Eliza presumed must be Linda. I’m going to LA to look after my sick aunt. She’s got cancer.

Eliza’s heart went out to the woman and her aunt, but when she looked to Lachlan, the smile he’d been wearing seconds earlier had vanished from his face.

You don’t have an aunt! he exclaimed.

Linda narrowed her eyes at him. You don’t know everything about me, Lachlan. Maybe if you’d paid more attention, our marriage wouldn’t have ended in tatters.

What the...? Lachlan’s eyes bulged, but he took one look at Hallie and didn’t finish his question. When he spoke again, it was clear he was trying to control his annoyance. Aunt or no aunt, you can’t just take Hallie to LA. And if you think you can...

Re-lax. Linda’s tone was condescending. Of course, I can’t take Hallie with me. That’s why she’s staying with you for a while.

What?

Ignoring Lachlan’s one-word question, Linda bent and drew the little girl into her arms, kissing her on her golden pigtailed head. Be good for Daddy. I’ll call you from LA.

She straightened again and took a step toward the door as if that was that, but Lachlan’s words halted her in her tracks. Oh, no, you don’t, Linda. We need to talk. Kitchen. Now.

Linda glanced at her watch, let out a dramatic sigh and then flicked her long hair over her shoulder. Fine, but I don’t have long. My plane leaves in two hours.

Lachlan looked to his daughter and smiled warmly. Hallie, you wait here. Mom and I will be out in a moment. Then, dragging the woman by the arm, he led her into the kitchen and slammed the door shut, leaving Eliza alone with the little girl.

She stared at the child. Lately, she couldn’t even handle being around her best friend’s children, never mind strangers’ offspring.

Hello, she said after a few moments of silence. Despite her own discomfort at finding herself in the middle of a family drama, Eliza felt for the girl. Although she didn’t know the ins and outs of the situation, it was clear this child was Lachlan’s daughter, that her mother was dumping her here unexpectedly and her father didn’t seem pleased with the news.

However dire her own life was, this was a stark reminder that she wasn’t the only one with problems. And a kid as cute as this one should not