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Chapter 1
DANIEL
What the hell is file powder?
Lost, with my eyes on a gumbo recipe I brought up on my phone, I roll my grocery cart down yet another aisle.
My daughter’s tastes have certainly changed since she was fourteen but I’m determined to make her favorite meal when she comes over for dinner for the first time in almost five years. Finally, back in the states after her mother left me and took her to live in the South Pacific with the man she left me for.
Not that I haven’t seen my little girl in all that time. Video calls go a long way. I’d have fought for more but the last thing I’ve ever wanted to do is force Julia to live half her life on a plane. Split between two sets of friends. So, I visited her every chance I got. Several times a year so she’d never doubt I’m here for her.
She loved me visiting her on her turf but it had always been a bit crowded. I could have done without my wife’s new husband always looking over my shoulder. Most likely waiting for me to take my family back. Maybe I would have if I thought my ex would have had me back. The fact that she’d never been happy in our marriage kept me from trying or thinking it was a possibility. She made that abundantly clear the day we signed the papers.
Tomorrow though… Everything changes. After I pick Julia up from the airport and help her move into her dorm room, we’re having dinner. Just the two of us. Real father-daughter time. Finally.
But first I have to figure out what the hellfilepowder is.
I flit my eyes to the shelves then back to my phone.
Garlic and onion powder are things that exist. Maybe it’s some kind of spice.
File…File…
Still walking and not paying a lick of attention to where I’m going as I repeat the ingredient over and over in my head, my cart comes to an abrupt stop. Punching me in the stomach.
“Oh, my God. I’m so sorry.” A light, feminine voice soothes my eardrums of the sharp clang the carts made when they collided.
Rubbing the ache from my abdominals, I say, “No. No. It’s my fault, I—” The words stick in my throat for a second when I finally look up to find I’d been assaulted by the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. “I should have been watching where I was going.”
“So should I.” A mischievous half-smile curls into her cheek.
Damn.
I know I shouldn’t think it but as full as her lips are, I would love to see how they swell after a kiss. Or after being wrapped around the part of me currently rising for an opportunity I’m most definitely not going to pursue. Even though she has a bottle of wine in her cart, I’m pretty sure she’s going to have to buy it with a fake ID.
“Are you alright?” I ask, hoping her tiny waist didn’t meet the same fate as my own.
She turns her sparkling hazel eyes down looking herself over. Smoothing the front of her yellow T-shirt—that fits like a second skin—with her hands and fingers. The tips of which are painted hot pink.
One more thing I’d like to see wrapped around the overly eager resident in my jeans, not taking the hint this girl is off-limits.
“I think I’ll survive. How about you?”
Not as long as you but, “yeah. I think I’ll pull through.”
“As long as I’m free of a lawsuit, I’ll—” She stops again with her cart alongside mine, looking in. “Oh.” She mumbles a few of the items, “Andouille, shrimp, okra…” then asks, “Are you making gumbo?”
“Not if I can’t find thisfilepowder stuff.”
She giggles and bites her lips between her teeth. “It’s pronouncedfee-lay. It’s a thickener. You don’t really need it if you use the okra.”
“But the recipe says…” I read it again. “Exactly that.” With a heavy sigh, I hunch over the cart handle.
“I take it you don’t cook often.” Her eyes sparkle with unexpected maturity. An heir about her that is nothing less than tender.
“That would be an understatement. Sounds like you know what you’re doing though.”
“I hope so. My life kind of depends on it.”
