“I was thinking chocolate chip.” Poppy’s favorite.
She picked at the blue polish on her thumbnail. “Well, since you’re going to all the trouble, I guess I could choke down a few.”
He bit back a smile. Poppy had choked down her fair share of his cooking in the last two weeks. Since Jaxon thought it was best to keep his siblings as far from the townsfolk as possible, he had taken to cooking all their meals here at the house.
And loving every second of it.
Not only because he loved being back with his siblings, but also because cooking had always been his therapy. The one activity that cooled his temper, soothed his pain, and forced him to breathe. When life became too much, he had always found serenity in a kitchen.
Especially in this kitchen.
While Jaxon hated Honky Tonk Heaven, he loved his family home. The house was a one-story monstrosity with additions jutting out on the sides and back like wagon wheel spokes. Every time Mama got pregnant, Daddy would add another addition. He thought it was important that each of his kids had their own space.
He also thought a house should have a big kitchen.
Rory Hennessy had loved to cook as much as he’d loved to gamble and drink. On the occasional nights when he wasn’t out of town for some poker tournament, you could find him in the Hennessy’s country kitchen making delicious meals for his family—usually recipes from the Irish cookbook his mama had left him when she passed.
He’d gather all his kids around the butcher-block island and turned the kitchen into his own cooking show. Wielding a whisk like a magician, he’d call up Jaxon and his siblings to help as if they were lucky audience members. His daddy had never cared if they spilled flour or left eggshell in the batter. He’d just make some joke about not crying over spilled flour or adding extra crunch.
But that was his daddy. He was as daring as Dawson. As charming as Huck. And as outrageous as Poppy.
He had turned everything into something wild and fun and special.
Which probably explained why he was the only one who could get Rosie away from Honky Tonk Heaven. When he was home, she would always be here for supper.
The entire family would gather around the dining room table and eat cottage pie or Irish stew with soda bread or corn beef and cabbage while his daddy would regale them with stories of his life on the poker circuit. They were some wild stories. Like any good Irishman, his daddy tended to stretch the truth for a good laugh.
And his daddy had made them laugh.
He’d made them laugh right up until he’d run his car off the road and died.
Jaxon had been thirteen at the time and he could still remember the crushing pain he’d felt when Mama had given them the news. Still, remember Dawson yelling at Mama that she was lying and running from the room. Huck standing there silently crying. And Poppy, who had only been five, looking at him with eyes filled with confusion.
“Daddy’s not coming back, Jax?”
Then seven years later, Jaxon hadn’t come back either.
He looked at his sister. “I’m sorry, Pops. I was wrong to leave you.”
She shrugged. “I’m over it.”
If the way she’d been closing him out was any indication, or the songs he heard her singing in her bedroom at night about never trusting men, it was a lie. But he kept that thought to himself and lifted an egg out of the carton.
“Ladies and gentleman, I would like to present to you an ordinary egg.” He tossed the egg into the air and gently caught it. “But if cracked properly this ordinary egg will produce a golden yolk of perfection.” He held out the egg. “Would you like to demonstrate, beautiful young lady?”
Poppy stared at him for a long moment, making him wonder if she’d been too young to remember Daddy’s cooking shows. But then a sparkle entered her eyes and she smiled softly. “He was always such a goof, wasn’t he?”
“Always . . . but especially for his Princess Poppy.”
Tears filled her eyes, but she blinked them away as she took the egg. “Why, I would love to demonstrate. I just need a hard surface.” She leaned over the island and cracked the egg on Jaxon’s head before opening it into the bowl. Her eyes twinkled when she looked back at him. “You’re right, kind sir. That was perfection.”
He stared at her in stunned shock for only a second before he tipped back his head and laughed.
Surprisingly, Poppy joined in.
“What’s so funny?” Huck appeared in the doorway, his hair shooting out in all directions and his eyes sleep droopy. Before either Poppy or Jaxon could answer, he looked at the mixing bowl on the counter. “Please tell me whatever’s in that bowl is going to turn into pancakes.” When Jaxon nodded, he let out a whoop and flopped down next to Poppy. “I get the first flap!”
Less than thirty minutes later, all the Hennessys were seated at the island eating pancakes and doing what they did best. Arguing.
