Dawn Atkins - Her Sexiest Surprise

“Ma, do some nachos, ’kay?” That was Ronnie, seventeen, hollering from the next room, from which Chloe could hear cars racing and the shouts and groans of guys playing Xbox.

“Say please!” Natalie hollered back.

“Pul-eez. And use good cheese, not that American crap.”

“See how much we need you?” she said to Chloe with a sigh. “Not even my nachos are up to par. Let’s see if we have good chips.” Natalie led her into a pantry as big as a bedroom jammed with pricey gourmet items and piles of junk food. Chloe picked up a jar of truffle oil and a can of caviar, her mind racing with possibilities.

Natalie grabbed a bag of tortilla chips and Chloe followed her to the equally packed refrigerator. “So, he says good cheese…” Natalie lifted a wedge of Havarti. “What do you think?”

“Too sharp,” Chloe said. “Perhaps Muenster?” She reached for the container. “It’s creamy and melts well. We can add garlic and chili for zing.”

“Perfect! I’m thinking you can really shape up the kids’ nutrition. Get Charity to eat more—she’s a stick and she hates veggies. Maybe add liquid vitamins? I don’t know. Ronnie’s a disaster. We bought him a weight bench and he uses it to stack gamer mags. Maybe girls will motivate him to get in shape.”

She tapped her chin, then looked at Chloe. “Speaking of sex, how did your birthday date go?”

“Oh, that. Uh, okay. It was…nice.”

“Look at you. You’re all red. You did it. You got laid on your birthday! That’s fabulous!”

“Not so loud, okay?” She hoped no one had overheard that.

“Sure, sure.” Natalie lowered her voice. “I think it’s great. And not a word to Enzo, I swear. In the vault.” She brought her hands together like a closing door.

“What’s in the vault?” Sal, the man who had ruined her father’s life and sobriety, gave Chloe a once-over from the archway. He’d bathed himself in a cloying cologne that made her nose tickle. She sneezed.

“Bless you,” Sal said, grinning at her.

“What are you after, Sal?” Natalie asked impatiently.

“A Bud, but I can get it.” He leaned between them to get a beer from the fridge, then turned to Chloe. “What brings you to our kitchen, pretty lady?” Another once-over. Ish.

“This is Chloe Baxter, Sal. She’s our new cook.”

“Baxter? You related to…?”

“Mickey? Yes, he’s my father.” Just leave him alone. She fought to be pleasant.

“And, hey, you work at Enzo’s, right? You’re a hostess.” He pointed a finger at her, then clicked it like a trigger.

“Yes.” Sal was a harmless flirt. If a woman actually took him up on his advances, he’d no doubt wilt like celery left out overnight.

“So, you’ll be cooking…. I can’t wait.” He rubbed his stomach and licked his lips, just this side of lascivious.

Chloe managed a curdled smile.

“We have work to do, Sal,” Natalie said, making a shooing gesture. “And get Ronnie away from those hellish video games, would you? Every day it’s World War III in my house. Boom, crash, rat-tat-tat. Enough. Maybe show him how to fix cars.”

“Possible, Aunt Natalie. I’ll see what I can do.” He looked Chloe over again. “Now if you’d like your oil changed, I’m ready anytime.” He winked. Gross.

“I think I’ll be fine,” she said dryly.

“Oh, you’re definitely fine.” Sal saluted her and Natalie with his beer, then backed away.

“Don’t give that guy a thought,” Natalie murmured. “Sal is bad news. I don’t like Ronnie spending so much time with him, but if I tell Sal not to come over and it gets back to my sister-in-law, major crisis. If I tell Ronnie to stay clear, he’ll rebel. Being a mother is so lose-lose.”

“I can imagine.”

“No one tells you that before, so consider yourself warned.” She wagged a finger at Chloe.

“I’ll remember,” she said, not envying Natalie her kids.

“So, how about we go over your duties, huh? Over cappuccinos? Yes?” She turned to a gleaming metal appliance on the counter. “Can you work this monster? Enzo got it at a closeout from a restaurant supplier. Him and his deals.” She rolled her eyes in affectionate annoyance.

“I’ll try.” The thing looked like it could make bread, create a nuclear bomb and steam shirts all at once.

“The instructions.” Natalie presented her with a thick booklet. Luckily, there was a quick-start page and before long Chloe had cappuccinos steaming, nachos bubbling and was mixing V8 with seltzer and Tabasco for a zingy drink with lots of the vitamins Ronnie needed.

When she carried the tray of refreshments into the playroom, she found Ronnie and Sal madly working controllers from the sofa. Slouched on a love seat and recliner were two malevolent-looking guys in black silk shirts. One was clicking out a text message on his phone, the other studied a folded newspaper. Probably figuring the spread on upcoming games, since he didn’t look like the crossword type. Maybe that wasn’t fair—she tried to give people the benefit of the doubt—but she got a bad vibe from Sal’s friends.

Sal noticed Chloe. “Hit Pause, my friend,” he said to Ronnie. “Let’s see what the pretty lady has for our repast.”

“Repast? What the f’s that?” the guy with the paper said.

“Chloe, Mr. Ignorant is Carlo and that’s Leo over there. Chloe’s Mickey Baxter’s kid.”

“Ah,” both men said, then exchanged looks.

Chloe nodded at the two men, then noticed that the game Ronnie was playing was a car race, at least, not death and destruction, except then she watched a character climb out of a car with a machine gun and blast a Hummer to smithereens before Ronnie froze the action.

“What have we here?” Sal said, pretending to look at the food she’d bent to show them while staring at her breasts.

She described the snacks, then waved her hand before his eyes. He grinned, caught, then grabbed nachos.

Ronnie did, too. He chewed and swallowed, then tossed off a “Good,” before resuming his game.

“I’d love you to cook up something special for me,” Sal said to her.

“I’m the Sylvestris’ cook.”

“Perfect. I’m a Sylvestri.”

She just looked at him.

“Give it up, Sal,” Carlo said. “She’s not interested.”

“Never say never, right, babe?”

Please don’t wink, she thought, her eyes watering from his cologne.

Sal winked.

“Let Natalie know if there’s something you’d like,” she said wearily. Being genial with the guy might help her father.

“She’s warming up,” he said to Carlo, triumphant as a kid. “I can’t wait for the next family dinner.”

“Me, either,” she said, gritting her teeth. As she left, she heard them mutter, then laugh. Something lascivious, no doubt.

Back in the kitchen, she and Natalie sipped cappuccino and Natalie talked through the schedule. “Breakfast is at eight. You can count on me and Enzo. The kids should eat, too, but the crucial thing is them getting to the bus at eight-thirty.”

“They have trouble making the bus?”

“Are you kidding? They have trouble waking up, let alone making it to the bus or breakfast. Delores just shouted up the stairs like that would do it.” Natalie rolled her eyes.

“So you want me to…?” Drag them downstairs?

“Take any measures necessary,” she said. “Whatever it takes. Completely your call.”

They talked next about menus. The family mostly ate Italian, but Natalie urged her to be creative. Chloe couldn’t wait to try her own riffs on Italian dishes, working in the family’s nutritional needs and preferences at the same time.

There was to be a big family dinner on her second day of work. And Enzo’s birthday was next week. She would prepare a traditional family meal, followed by a party. She couldn’t wait to work up the menus. Soon, she had pages of notes and a partial shopping list.