Page 33 of Recipe for Rivals

We loaded up our plates with an assortment of food—smoked chicken and corn and salads and rolls. When we reached the desserts, Chad whistled, picking up one of my berry crumble bars. “These look amazing.”

I didn’t say anything. He’d probably seen Ben carry them in.

Only, he wasn’t here when we arrived, was he?

We took our plates outside so I could watch the kids—mostly Alice—and sat on wicker chairs on the back porch. Chad told me about growing up in Arcadia Creek and how he and Travis had gone to high school together. He asked questions about me and New York, but I tried to be brief in my responses and turn the conversation back to him. To Chad’s credit, it sounded like he wanted to get to know us and not like he was vetting me for a date, or I wouldn’t have stuck around. The moment things seemed more romantically-minded, I was out.

He finished off his berry crumble bar and moaned. “I need another one of those. Want me to grab you one?” he offered. His blue eyes searched mine, and I looked away.

“No. I had one earlier, thanks.”

He took my empty plate and walked back inside, probably to throw it away, and returned shortly with a napkin and two more bars. Both were for him.

“A bird in there told me you made these.”

I glanced at him, but he seemed amused more than anything. “Guilty,” I said.

“I guess that’s why Gigi has you in the kitchen, huh? You must be a great cook.”

“Mostly just the skills most moms have, but I get by. Dal is a major help.”

“Dal has been cooking in that kitchen my entire life.”

“So I’ve heard.”

He took another bite and leaned back a little, appraising me. “Hey, what are you doing on the nineteenth?”

“Probably working.”

“It’s a Saturday. Do you work weekends?”

I glanced at the tree house, where Alice was sitting inside with the other girls. I couldn’t see her, but I hoped things were going well. “I’m not sure. Sometimes I help at the diner, but when the kids are home from school I try to be with them.”

“You can bring them,” Chad said.

There was a slow coiling of unease through me. I held his blue eyes, thinking again how he resembled Carter in some ways. Not just physically, but something about his mannerisms made me think of my ex. That wasn’t a point in his favor, to say nothing of the way I was still emotionally reeling from the recent changes in my life. “Listen, I was recently divorced and then dragged my kids halfway across the country. I’m not in a position to think about anything but them for a while.”

He looked confused, but then his face cleared. “I’m not asking you out, Nova.”

My cheeks warmed. “Then what are you asking?”

Chad shoved the last bite of his bar into his mouth and chewed. He took his time swallowing and chasing it with a swig of his drink, probably to form how best to put me in my place. “We have a Battle of the Badges coming up. It’s a competition thing, and I need someone on my team to make a killer lunch. We have to make sliders and a strawberry shortcake style dessert, and I was hoping you’d be able to help. I’m in charge, but I’m hopeless at this sort of thing.” He lifted the crinkled, berry-streaked napkin in his hand. “Clearly you’re great at it.”

“I don’t know. My calendar is pretty full.” We’d only just moved here but flag football, the diner, the kids’ schooling, the cookies for Trish back in New York, the management of the kids’relationship with Carter—there was already a lot on my plate. The thought of adding one more thing made me itchy with pre-imagined hives.

“You don’t need to do much,” he promised. “Just help me plan a winning menu and tell me how to execute it.”

“You don’t have anyone more qualified on your team?”

“No, and I don’t want to lose again.” He gave a self-deprecating smile. “Please?”

He got me with that pleading expression, his blue eyes so hopeful. I could help him plan a menu. That wouldn’t be too hard, would it? “I can’t commit to much, but I can help you figure out what to make.”

“Life saver,” he breathed, grinning. “Mark the nineteenth on your calendar. The whole day should be pretty fun for the kids, so if you don’t have to work, we’d love to have you.”

I didn’t commit to that, but I nodded, sweeping the yard again looking for my kids. The sound of familiar giggling came from the tree house, and it made my shoulders relax.

“Can I give you my number?” Chad asked. “You can text me later to figure out a good time to meet and plan out the menu.”