Grocery shopping was never fun. Grocery shopping with five-year-old triplets who wanted to be anywhere else but the supermarket was a nightmare. Armed with her detailed list, the sale flyer, an envelope full of coupons, and all the patience she could muster, Shannon hurried up and down the aisles. The sooner they finished shopping, the sooner they could all go out and play.
Turning a corner without looking, Shannon winced when her cart bounced hard off another. She did a quick head count and saw that all the kids were fine. She then focused her attention on the poor customer she’d nearly plowed down. He wore a ball cap low over dark sunglasses. Blonde, sun-streaked strands snuck out below the cap. He looked around furtively, like he was trying to hide from someone.
“Dean? Is that you? I’m so sorry I ran into you like that.” Shannon angled her head, eyeing him quizzically.
“Uh. Hey. What’s up?” He checked over his shoulder and hunched further into his lightweight jacket.
“You okay?” She was starting to get worried. He looked as though he were being stalked.
“I’m fine. I’m shopping . . . for food.” He was clearly distracted.
“Run out of dry cereal, did you?”
“Yeah, I . . . how’d you know that?” He finally stood a little straighter and appeared to relax some.
“I figured you came by for lunch the other day because you were out of food. Or you were sick of your own cooking.”
Sparing a quick peek in his grocery cart, Shannon quickly ruled out the “own cooking” part. Dean was certainly stocking up on the dry cereal . . . and cans of soup . . . bread . . . peanut butter. Oh, this was just so wrong! Even a bachelor could live better than this. Hadn’t his mother taught him to cook? Did he go out and buy new clothes whenever it was time to do laundry, too? Good grief!
“What’s your favorite food?” She shot Dean a straight look that showed him she wasn’t just making idle conversation.
“I don’t know . . . pizza?” He shrugged his shoulders, the gesture sliding him further into his jacket, like a turtle retreating into its shell.
“Come on. You’re at a restaurant with a menu in front of you. What do you order?”
“Shannon, I really should hurry. I’ve got a ton of things to do back at the house.” Again, he looked over his shoulder like he expected someone to be following him. His eyes darted everywhere at once and sweat was starting to bead on his upper lip.
He looks really freaked out, Shannon thought. He couldn’t have been here long, and must have had more shopping to do. But he was in an awful hurry to get away. What could have him so worked up? Then it hit her, and Shannon had to refrain from slapping her forehead in discovery.
Dean was agoraphobic. All the evidence pointed to it. He lived alone and didn’t want anyone around. He found it difficult to leave the house. Once out of it he couldn’t stay away long before he felt too uncomfortable and had to rush back to the safety of his sanctuary. Oh, the poor man. Shannon had read articles on this condition and could only imagine the hell he must have to go through just to survive the day.
“Oh, my goodness, I am so sorry we kept you. You go on home and we’ll catch up with you another time.” Shannon gathered the children around her so Dean could maneuver his cart past them all. He paused just before he turned the corner of the aisle.
“It’s nothing personal. I didn’t want you to think . . . ” His words were a whispered mumble. He looked conflicted, one half of his body turned away from them ready to run and the other half leaning forward like he wanted to stay and chat.
Shannon shook her head and waved goodbye, her smile sad. She would not get choked up here. She didn’t want to have to explain to the triplets why she was so upset for Mr. Dean. She imagined he’d be mortified if he found out her kids knew about what plagued him.
But if he thought he was in this alone, he would definitely have to think again! He had neighbors now, and neighbors helped each other out. If he felt safest at home, then she was going to make sure he was as comfortable as possible. He didn’t need to subsist on soup and peanut butter sandwiches. Shannon was going to teach Dean to cook.
“Come on, kids. I think we’re going to need a second cart.”
Hastily, shoving her grocery list and envelope of coupons into her purse, Shannon also had to scrap her usual buying strategies. She hadn’t had to shop for one since . . . no, come to think of it, she’d had never had to shop for just herself. She eyed the shelves and bins for staples that weren’t likely to go to waste. Instead of family packs of meat, like she would normally buy, Shannon picked up the smaller packages.
Her attention lingered over the pricier cuts of steak. Something told her that Dean was no stranger to filet mignon, or maybe even caviar. But if she was going to show her new hermit friend how to cook for himself, he was going to learn on her budget.
Even the triplets were helpful, knowing they were on a special mission. No one was whining, hitting, or asking for sugary snacks. Oh, they were definitely getting a treat for being so cooperative today! Shannon herded her brood over to the laundry aisle and asked the children to sniff the boxes of dryer sheets and decide, as a group, which one they liked best. While their backs were turned, she quickly snatched a box of crayons and three coloring books from a shelf on the opposite side of the aisle. She hid them in the grocery cart, under a big bargain bag of cereal.
Saving the things she didn’t absolutely need for another day, Shannon and the kids hurried through the checkout. They stepped outside, momentarily blinded by the sun finally making an appearance. Hearing her name hollered across the parking lot, Shannon looked up to see Talia and her twins, Drake and Danny.
“Hey, there!” Talia said. “We were just bringing some supplies over to Tumble Tots. Think I could borrow your gang for a couple of hours? We just got some new gym equipment and it really needs some hands-on testing.”
“Oh, maybe another time. I’ve got to get our groceries put away and then I have stuff to drop off at the neighbor’s.” Shannon smiled gratefully, still rolling the cart toward her minivan.
“Here, let us help.” Talia slipped her hands from each of the boys and made sure they were both holding on to Shannon’s shopping cart. Five children edged Shannon out of the way and pushed the cart in the right direction.
“Please? You’d be doing me a huge favor.” Talia gripped Shannon’s arm and drew her just far away enough to be out of range of little ears. “Jeff is on me to have another baby. Like two-year-old twins aren’t enough!”
“Well, why didn’t you say so? Had I known, I would have fed them a ton of candy.” The women laughed.
“Seriously . . . the place is closed. It’s just Jeff and me with the kids. We’ll get them nice and tuckered out. You go spend time with your new man.”
“Okay, but he’s just a friend.”
“Honey, you tell yourself whatever you need to.” Talia gathered her boys, with the promise that she’d meet them all at the kiddy gym in just a few minutes.
• • •
It was strange not having the triplets around. Shannon’s first instinct was to let the guilt she felt over enjoying herself ruin the peaceful solitude of the moment. She was all about making sure she had plenty of “me time” after the kids went to bed, but this was different. It was daylight. She didn’t have to pick them up for two hours, more if she needed it, Talia had assured her. It felt like playing hooky. It felt naughty. It felt good. Forget the guilt—this was too precious an opportunity to pass up!
Shannon smiled cheerily when Dean opened his door and gently nudged her way past him with her arms loaded down with grocery bags. His mouth hung open and his hand still gripped the doorknob. She giggled, bumping the door closed with her hip and knocking him out of his reverie at the same time.
“So, where’s your kitchen?”
She looked around the tiled entryway. A chandelier, dripping with crystals, took center stage. To the left and right of the door were small marble tables, each holding an expensive looking porcelain vase. Those wouldn’t last a day in my house, was her first thought. Half her modest little cottage could fit in Dean’s foyer. And looking up the wide, gleaming mahogany staircase, she knew there was a whole lot more house than this.
“Let me take some of those.” Dean’s gaze was bemused as he slipped a few of the bags out of Shannon’s hands and nodded his head down a hall toward the back of what was clearly too big to have been given the title of summer home.
She followed quickly, trying to sneak a peek in each room that they passed. Oh, a pool table! Wow, an honest to goodness library, with a ladder attached to reach the higher shelves. Ms. Sheffield didn’t have a library in the main house.
Shannon’s grin widened when they reached the kitchen. Now this place definitely wasn’t built for a bachelor who lived on dry cereal and peanut butter sandwiches. This kitchen was meant to host grand parties and state dinners. Shoving the bags on the nearest counter, Shannon turned a slow circle, taking in the stainless steel appliances, the yards of granite countertops.
Everything was state of the art. And to think that it had all just been sitting here, unused, for all this time. It was a shame that such a bountiful kitchen should be so completely devoid of lingering cooking scents. Her imagination conjured a sweet, yeasty bread baking, and the pungent aroma of root veggies and beef simmering in a rich stock. Oh, the things she could create in here!
“So . . . I’m not sure what to say. I mean, ‘thank you’ is definitely in order, but . . . ” Dean put his own bags down and began rustling through the contents.
“You rushed out of the store so fast that I figured you weren’t nearly done with your shopping. I’m so sorry if we made you uncomfortable in there.” Shannon got busy unpacking the reusable grocery bags.
“I hope you don’t think I’m being pushy here, but I got a look in your cart before you took off.” Shannon stuffed all the empties into one bag and pushed it to the center of the counter. “You don’t really cook, do you, Dean?”
“That would be an understatement.” He rubbed his stubble roughened chin, looking sheepish. “I haven’t had to cook for myself. I guess when most guys are learning from their mothers, I was . . . busy.” He stared at a point just over her left shoulder.
“Well, today is your lucky day, my friend. I am going to teach you to cook.”
“And where is your posse while you are undertaking this thankless task?”
“I told you, it’s your lucky day.” She swatted him lightly on the arm. “The trips are in the process of being thoroughly run ragged so that by the time I pick them up they will beg for dinner and an early bedtime.”
“I guess that makes it your lucky day, as well, then.” His voice was a deep rumble she could feel inside her chest.
Dean leaned in close. He reached out a hand, his face so close she could feel his breath tickle her ear. Shannon caught just a hint of aftershave and her eyes nearly rolled back in her head. Oh, he smelled good! Without realizing it, she leaned in closer, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. Her eyes were focused on Dean’s neck, the scent of his aftershave tempting her to see if he tasted as good as he smelled. Belatedly, she realized that his hand hadn’t been reaching for her, but behind her, where he picked up a package of chicken and carried it to the fridge.
Shannon tried not to sound like a drowning person when she finally sucked in a couple lungfuls of air. She took the opportunity to compose her features once Dean’s back was turned. Her heart was ricocheting all the way up and down her windpipe. She wiped damp palms on her jeans. Good lord, she had thought he was going to kiss her! Worse, she had wanted him to, and had felt a keening moment of regret when she realized she’d misread the situation.
“Are there any other perishables?” Dean had turned his attention back to her.
Not knowing if her voice would come out sounding wonky or not, Shannon decided not to chance speaking. Quickly, she scanned the items spread on the counter and slid the carton of eggs in his direction. She gathered up the frozen loaf of garlic bread and held it out at arm’s length.
She shouldn’t be here. This was a big mistake. No, leaving the kids with Talia was the bigger mistake. There would have been no chance for her out-of-work libido to suddenly get busy with three little munchkins watching every move they made. Shannon rubbed her bare arms, her skin suddenly prickly, too sensitive.
Dean was taking a long time putting things away. Shannon wondered if he was hiding in the fridge. Maybe she made him nervous. But he was in his own home now. He should be comfortable, right? How did this agoraphobia thing work?
Should she offer to leave? Who knew when she’d have another chance to help him help himself . . . without having to run herd on her young crew? She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. When was he finally going to turn around? I’ve made a recluse even worse. I’ve broken him. Tears pricked at the tender flesh of her eyelids.
“So what are we going to make first?”
Dean had shut the refrigerator and was now looking from Shannon to the rest of the groceries laid out on the counter. He didn’t look freaked out. His smile was warm, friendly. His vibrant green eyes were a much darker shade than she remembered. Did he pay for those blonde highlights or were they natural? He coughed delicately. Oh God, he was waiting for an answer and Shannon was staring like a love-struck teen.
“I guess that would depend on what we have to work with.” Shannon pasted a bright smile on her face and glanced around the spacious kitchen. “We’ve obviously got a stovetop and oven. The microwave will do in a pinch.”
She almost apologized when she saw Dean wince at that last statement. She didn’t intend to make him feel guilty for using one of modern science’s greatest inventions. She just wanted him to know he had options, and those options grew exponentially when he thought outside of that stainless steel box.
“You mean, do I have pots and pans and all those doo-dads for cooking?” At her nod, he kept going. “Yeah, I think I’m about as well stocked as a person can get. They just don’t get any use.”
Shannon and Dean spent the next hour going through the kitchen. While they inventoried his cooking supplies, she quizzed him on what he liked to eat. His was a simple palate, classic meat and potatoes. He complained about the fact that there was no drive-thru burger joints within a fifteen-mile radius. Shannon actually had to agree with him on that one. Small towns, while charming, did have their drawbacks.
“There you go, that’s all the more reason to learn to cook at home. It won’t feel quite so much like a punishment.”
“When we were on the road I’d get so sick of fast food, uh—” Dean cut himself off abruptly, and made a lot of noise clanging pots together underneath the counter.
He was hiding again. On the road? What did he mean by that? Shannon’s brow wrinkled and she reached a finger up to smooth out the bunched skin. There was a lot more to her mysterious neighbor than she realized.
That may have been enough to turn away a lesser woman, but Shannon worked for a boss whom she saw maybe four months out of the year. Her days were consumed with cooking, cleaning, and keeping three preschoolers out of trouble. It wasn’t enough to keep her imaginative brain active. She craved adventure, mystery. She could be way off base about Dean, but she was having too much fun trying to fill in the gaps. Now if she could only convince her body that her neighbor was off limits. Men were trouble; even men with tight buns who avoided potentially revealing conversation by practically climbing inside their kitchen cabinets.