The Secret Ingredient (Love Around the Corner) Read online

  The Secret Ingredient

  Love Around the Corner, Book 1

  Lynn Rae

  Published 2014

  ISBN: 978-1-62210-111-5

  Published by Liquid Silver Books, imprint of Atlantic Bridge Publishing, 10509 Sedgegrass Dr, Indianapolis, Indiana 46235. Copyright © Published 2014, Lynn Rae. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  Liquid Silver Books

  http://LSbooks.com

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

  Blurb

  Nate Garner is a happy-go-lucky short order cook looking for his big break. When he answers a casting call for a new reality cooking show, he needs a person behind the camera to help with his audition. Enter June Sinclair, a hyper-organized school secretary recruited by Nate's sister to produce his video. Nate and June get to know each other as they film him cooking, shopping, and mixing drinks at his mother's bar. Nate fights his growing attraction to June, because he knows she needs someone reliable to write into her well-worn planner, while June assumes he’s already involved with his best friend, Heather. What sort of future can they cook up together when Nate gets the call to go to Hollywood?

  Dedication

  To my family

  Acknowledgements

  I wish to thank the staff of the Tim Horton’s at Lazelle and High for providing a writing haven. Thanks also to Giant Eagle’s Market District for enticing me into adding something new and delicious to my cart every time I go there. And finally, thanks to Melissa Baxter for whipping this manuscript into shape.

  Chapter 1

  Both Maddie and Morgan Wray stared at him with skeptical expressions on their round, seven-month-old faces. Nate Garner had faced down drunken bikers demanding another round at closing time with more cool than he felt before the regard of his two nieces.

  “So, these are mashes of what? The pediatrician says no spices or extra sugar allowed.” His little sister, Becky Garner Wray, stood behind him, hands on hips as she leaned over his shoulder and inspected the plastic containers of food he’d brought over for her girls. He sat in her comfortable kitchen and not ready to face the twin culinary firing squad in front of him. Both Maddie and Morgan rubbed their chubby hands along the edges of the trays of their new high chairs and stared back at him unblinking.

  “Sweet potato, pear, and potato. You have no idea how hard it was to not add some cinnamon to the pear, or garlic to the potato.” Nate told himself he wasn’t intimidated by what was to come, but that would require a hefty dose of self-deception, which even he didn’t possess.

  “And you have no idea how disgusting the diapers would be if you did. You’re sure they’re organic?” Becky circled around and picked up a container to flip up the lid and give the contents a sniff, as if she could detect latent herbicides. She’d mentioned her difficulty in finding organic baby food at Palmer’s small grocery, and Nate had taken it on himself to concoct some homemade alternatives. It was good practice.

  “If you trust the folks at Simple Market to label their produce correctly.” He’d gotten Garnet red sweet potato, purple Peruvians, and some amazing Sekel pears on his shopping expedition to Columbus the day before. He’d also blown his budget on some dried morels, fresh sardines, and red palm oil. He had no clue what he was going to do with them, but the idea of trying something new in the kitchen was like anticipating Christmas morning when he was a kid.

  “Oh, you went to Simple? I love it there. Everything’s so pretty and fresh.” Becky stepped away from his side and walked behind her daughters’ high chairs, giving each a kiss on the top of their nearly bald heads. Each girl smiled at the caress but didn’t break eye contact with him. It was unnerving. “Go on, give it a try. I’m not sure how they’re going to react to the purple. It’s a little bizarre-looking.”

  Time to suck it up and do it. Nate grabbed a spoon from the counter behind them and scooped up tiny portions from each container. Becky raised her eyebrow at him. He’d never been able to resist a challenge from her, so with a nonchalant move, he scooped up a smidge of the purple mash and swung it between the girls, their gazes finally leaving his to track the morsel.

  “All right, who’s first?” As if on cue, both babies’ mouths dropped open like begging birds, and Nate smiled. First Maddie, and then Morgan, got a taste. Pudgy hands flexed against the plastic trays as their little mouths worked over the potato. Identical bright blue eyes narrowed with concentration, and Nate held his breath as he waited for the verdict. He’d fed the girls since they’d been born, bottles, powdered cereals, premade mushy dishes, but this was the first time they’d tasted his cooking.

  Morgan scrunched her face up, fat cheeks bulging and almost obscuring her eyes as she let out a little squeal. Maddie glanced at her sister and echoed the cry. Was that good or bad?

  “They like it. Give them more,” Becky urged as she patted his shoulder. After digging in to the puree, he methodically fed them as his sister collected containers and stowed them in her French-door refrigerator. While waiting for his nieces to swallow, Nate glanced around the kitchen. It was large and bright, filled with the high-end stainless-steel gadgets his sister and her husband had registered for before their wedding five years prior. With her husband deployed overseas, his sister’s house seemed emptier. Becky was managing new twins and her older daughter all on her own. His big sis, with three kids of her own. He had a hard time believing it some days.

  “Have you heard from Dave?” Nate asked, as he nodded solemnly at Morgan. The baby was grabbing at the spoon and gnawing it like she’d been deprived of food for days on end.

  “Nope. But I’m sure he’s okay.” Becky put up a brave front, but he could sense her worry underneath the stoic expression of a military spouse. He couldn’t imagine what it was like to wake up every day with such anxiety. His brother-in-law must worry constantly about his wife and babies.

  “He is. Dave’s pretty slippery.” Nate smiled at his sister and was rewarded by one of her glowing smiles. Both babies bounced in their seats and gurgled at their mom’s good humor.

  “Have you girls had enough of your uncle’s gourmet cooking?” Becky unstrapped Morgan and handed her over to Nate before swinging Maddie up to her shoulder for some back rubs, prior to a burp. Nate managed to get an echoing burp out of his gal, too.

  “Speaking of gourmet cooking, have you heard anything more about that reality show? I’ve seen some commercials for it already. The Knife’s Edge.” His sister made a theatrical slashing chop with her hand.

  Nate winced. He’d hoped his sister had forgotten about his lame audition video. He shrugged and Morgan squealed at the movement of his shoulder. She tapped one fat, soft hand against his cheek, and he wished he’d shaved so she wouldn’t have encountered any prickly stubble.

  “Come on, you should have heard something by now. Doesn’t it start filming in a month?”

  The reality show she pestered him about was something he’d auditioned for on a dare a year before. He’d been boasting about how well he would do on Top Chef as he’d manned the barbecue at one of their family gatherings, and Becky countered him with news about a new competition taking online applications. She’d been pregnant with the twins and dangerously hormonal, so rather than argue with her, he’d
agreed to let her film him and send in the video to the production company. They’d finally gotten back with him after many production delays, and Becky, with her sister-sense, somehow knew.

  “It does, but…” Nate let the thought die as he settled Morgan down onto her play mat, now that the danger of the return of purple potatoes seemed to be over. The baby wriggled her legs hard enough to jiggle her fat rolls as she chewed on her fingers.

  “But what?”

  “They want another video, and it’s such short notice…I’m going to pass.” He should have e-mailed back already, but he’d been reluctant to give up on the fantasy. If he got on the show, he might be able to turn it into a loan to open his own restaurant, or buy a food truck. Yeah, right. It was pretty stupid to think a bank would take a risk on someone like him when he couldn’t even get another five-minute video put together. There was no way he could ask Becky to help him out again when she was barely treading water to keep up with caring for her children.

  “So, you made the first cut?”

  Nate nodded, not wanting to tell her he’d actually passed through three levels of evaluation. According to the e-mail from a production assistant, it was down to twenty contestants, and the ten who appeared on air would be selected based on how they performed in a new audition video executing a few challenges. Nate supposed it was a whole lot cheaper to have the applicants make more videos than it would be to fly twenty people to Hollywood and cut half the first night on air. In any case, he wasn’t going to be part of the process.

  “Then you have to make the video, Nate. How many people get a chance like that?”

  “It’s too complicated. There’s a list of things they want, and there’s no way I’m going to ask you to help me out. I’m here to help you.” Nate gestured at the babies staring at each other on the play mat. He’d promised Dave he’d be there for Becky no matter what, but he would have anyway. They’d always looked out for each other. Her in-laws helped out, but his sister had grave suspicions on what foods were offered whenever Grandma and Grandpa Wray took on the kids for an afternoon. She probably noticed a difference in the contents of the diapers.

  Becky got a glass of water and sipped it as she glanced, with her knowing, bright blue eyes, between her children and her brother. Her dark, thick hair, so much like his own, was tied back in a messy knot, and he had a feeling she was going to cut it off into a practical length soon. Dave wouldn’t recognize her when he came home. “So, what needs to be in this new video?”

  “They want film of me cooking an omelet and talking about every step of the process, they want me shopping for ingredients and explaining how I’m choosing things, and they want some sort of candid action stuff. It’s complicated, and I’m not doing it.”

  “They make it tough so they can weed out the ones who don’t want it enough. And it’ll give them free footage to use on the show. You have to sign over the rights to it, don’t you?”

  Nate nodded. Becky didn’t miss a trick.

  “I feel bad that I can’t do it, especially since I got you into this, but I know my limitations. And it’s way too technical for Tiny or Heather to help you out with.” His sister effectively dismissed the abilities of Nate’s friends with a twist of her lip. She was right; Tiny would make everyone seasick with his constant shifts in focus, and Heather’s cackling laugh would overwhelm anything he might try to say.

  “But, that doesn’t mean you get to give up. I think I know someone who can tape you.”

  “No, it’s all right, I don’t need—”

  “Pfft.” Becky waved a hand at him and reached for the phone on the counter. As she made a call, she walked away from him and knelt between the twins, rubbing her hand gently on their rounded bellies as they grinned and drooled with delight. Nate decided to let fate determine things, and he took a quick inventory of her refrigerator as she conducted her call. Perhaps this videographer would be busy or uncooperative, in which case, the whole thing could simply fade away.

  Most of her perishables were decent quality, but he made a note she needed better cheese than a jumbo package of string mozzarella.

  “Okay, you’re all set.”

  Nate turned to find Becky grinning at him. A bad feeling settled in his gut. “What did you do?”

  “Gotten you someone really talented to make your video. She’s super at them, does stuff for the school all the time. She’s available and willing to help.”

  “Why?”

  “Because she’s a nice person, and you aren’t allowed to have any excuses.”

  Nate considered fighting with her for about ten seconds, but when Morgan wailed and flailed on the mat, Becky dropped back down, attending her and leaving him no choice but to go along. There was no way he was going to add any stress to his sister’s life by arguing with her.

  “So who is this person?”

  “She’s the school secretary, or one of them. June Sinclair. She does attendance and stuff like that. Monitoring things with cameras.”

  Nate shook his head, overwhelmed by a vision of a gray-haired woman in a cardigan sweater calling the truant officer. With a name like June Sinclair she had to be uptight. Nate had never had perfect attendance in thirteen years of schooling, so he had a feeling he wasn’t going to live up to her standards. “How do you know her?”

  “Met her when I brought Kayla in for pre-K screening last month. We got to talking.”

  He wasn’t sure how a conversation over filling out paperwork could morph into such a favor on short notice, but Becky was charming when she put her mind to it. He tried to put a positive spin on the situation. It only took a few minutes to cook an omelet, maybe a half an hour at a grocery store, and then he’d be done. The show would reject him, and he could get back to his real life as a short-order cook and part-time bartender in a small town in the middle of nowhere. Both occupations were perfectly suited to his abilities, whereas competitive reality television was not.

  “You’re sure she’s willing to do this?”

  “Positive. She’s over at the school right now, so I told her you’d be by in a few minutes to meet her and set the whole thing up.” Becky turned away from her babies, her eyes sparkling with what might be mischief. The tickle of foreboding returned. She was up to something.

  “What’s the catch?”

  “Dang, you’re so suspicious, Nathaniel.” She frowned and pressed her lips into a pout. “What have I ever done to you?”

  “Should I start with just the most recent, or go back to my first memory of you throwing up on me after you’d conned me out of an entire chocolate milkshake?” Nate winced at the memory. She’d somehow convinced him she only wanted a sip to compare to her own butterscotch creation, which she’d already finished, and in a fit of big sister worship, he’d handed over his treat. His good deed had been quickly punished after she’d downed most of it with a few intense draws on the straw. The pressure and cold had been too much for her six-year-old belly, and she’d brought it all up soon after.

  “Never mind that. Just go meet her and don’t say anything stupid. And don’t be late. She strikes me as the type who’s early for everything.”

  Nate widened his eyes in comic disbelief. As if he couldn’t charm an elderly school secretary.

  * * * *

  June Sinclair sat underneath the clumps of scarlet runner bean vines, growing over a teepee of bamboo struts, and thought long and hard about her life. Well, to be more accurate, she considered what her life was going to be like for the next few days. Despite technically having most of July off, she still ended up at the school several days a week. Here she was, weeding the community garden the sixth graders had planted just before school let out, rather than relaxing by a pool or going on vacation like normal people.

  Not only was she still involved with school obligations, she’d just volunteered to give up some of her free time to help some kid with a video project. On top of helping her grandmother pack up her house and move. She needed to learn to say no: no to the w
eeds growing rampant in the garden, no to that nice Becky with the adorable daughters and husband away in the desert with danger surrounding him. She was thirty-three years old, single, and squatting in the dirt under some propped-up wooden sticks and sickly vines.

  “Ms. Sinclair! There’s a man here to see you!” Ralston Tippet’s voice trilled out, and she unfolded her legs preparing to crawl out from under the beans. Probably a father in search of a wandering child. She seemed to attract any stray in the neighborhood, just like Ralston and his friend Emma Dooley who’d spotted her in the garden that morning and rushed to help make a mess of things.

  Heedless of the dirt she was grinding into her knees, June pushed herself up and out into the hot July sunlight, blinking at the man-shaped silhouette in front of her. As her pupils contracted, she took in broken-down jeans, a soft brown T-shirt with a cartoon pig on it, broad shoulders, sunglasses, and a bright green ball cap. At least he wasn’t standing on any vegetable plants.

  “Here he is, Ms. Sinclair!” Ralston capered around while swinging a hoe with little regard for the safety of those in his vicinity. June reached out and grabbed the handle and wrestled it away from the kid. Yes, there he was, and what was she supposed to do with him?

  “Can I help you?”

  “I guess so, if you’re June Sinclair.” He tilted his head and altered the angle of his sunglasses as he looked her over. She saw a dark reflection of herself for a moment. She was dirty, sweaty, and unimpressive.

  “I’ve been June Sinclair ever since I was a teeny-tiny baby.” Ralston giggled at her feeble joke, but the man just put his hands on his hips.

  “You’re still little, Ms. Sinclair.” Ralston piped up, proud of his recent growth spurt, which nearly put him at her eye level.

  “Ah, okay. My sister Becky just called you. I’m Nate.”

  Oh. Oh no. June wanted to go back into the bean teepee and think about this for a while. When Becky Wray had called earlier and explained she’d needed a favor on behalf of her little brother, June had automatically defaulted to thinking of a kid needing help and had agreed without much thought. That was the trouble with working with kids all the time—she wasn’t used to meeting big adult men with stubble on their chins.