The Single Dad's Family Recipe. Rachael Johns

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       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 СКАЧАТЬ