Page 4 of Recipe for Rivals

The sound that left my mouth was somewhere between a laugh and a scoff.

“There was a message too,” she said, chewing her lip. “Something about considering your options.”

“Alright, thank you.” I adjusted my grip on my reusable grocery bags and ruffled Ben’s blond hair. “Come on, guys. Let’s get back to Gigi’s.”

Ben beamed, sending a twinge of sadness through me. It didn’t take much to make this kid feel like a million bucks. This stranger had already given Ben more joy and attention than his own dad had in the last year.

My blood simmered, and it took great care to chill my breathing.

We skirted the diner and slipped through the alley leading to our building. It was a squat fourplex behind the diner, with tall metal stairs leading up to our front door.

A memory of Dusty winking flashed through my mind. Had he done this out of a warped sense of flirtation, or just to tease Ben about his current career choice? Which one of us did he want to consider our options?

“Don’t open that,” I said, before Ben could ruin the package.

“Why not?”

“Do we accept gifts from strangers?”

He looked bewildered. It wasn’t something we’d had to go over before. “Yes?”

“No. We don’t.” I was glad he didn’t immediately throw Halloween in my face. “Keep it wrapped up, please.”

“But Mom!”

“Ben, we don’t know what kind of person that guy was.”

“But you let me take it!”

I had, hadn’t I? Where was the manual now when I neededit?Divorcee 101: How to Handle Your Children as the Sole Parent. Subsection: Enforcing Rules.

Sighing, I dropped the bags on the kitchen counter and looked into Ben’s eyes. “Let me talk to Aunt Gigi before you open it, please.”

Ben grunted in frustration and went off to his room, closing the door with force. It wasn’t quite a slam, so I let it slide.

Probably because I hadn’tquiteturned the firetruck down yet.

Alice climbed up on the counter stool and peeled off the lid to the Pringles. I was glad she didn’t throw a fit about not getting a car, too. She put a chip in her mouth, grinning around her bite, and I didn’t have the energy to tell her to put it away until she had a real dinner in her. I reached over and took a chip, popping it in my mouth.

I’d been solo parenting for years now, so why had it suddenly become so much more exhausting?

Crunching down, I sighed.

“What’s for dinner?” Alice asked.

“Teriyaki chi—” Shoot. Guess it was Pringles for dinner tonight, because I forgot the chicken.

Story of my life.

CHAPTER TWO

DUSTY

Marchin north Texas meant the beginning of spring flag football season and planning for summer training. I was only the assistant coach for the high school, so I sat in on planning meetings, but most of my free time was spent with my younger footballers and their short attention spans.

When I wasn’t at my day job, that was.

Station 4 was my home every few days for long, slow, 48-hour shifts. I loved my job, but it was never my dream to become a firefighter. When I had to fill out those forms in elementary school asking what I wanted to be when I grew up, I always had the same answer: quarterback for the Dallas Cowboys.

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