Chapter One:
Cassie Caldwell forced herself away from her desk off the instructional kitchen in the coldest building on the campus at Northwestern Michigan College. A new round of classes had begun that day, and she just had one more to make it through.
The practice kitchen, with its stainless steel workstations and industrial ovens, felt even chillier than her drab office. She set about putting the tools the students would be using that evening at each spot, thinking of who Thomas would be, or Katia, or Jonathan.
She loved her special needs course, and she only got one per semester. They brought a vibrancy to the kitchen that no other group could, and they always proved her point that anyone could learn to cook.
As she put a syllabus printed on goldenrod paper at each spot beside the hand soap, cinnamon, oil, and paring knife, a rush of gratitude for this job hit her. She’d only been at the university for a year, and this was only her third introductory culinary course for special needs students.
But she loved teaching her other four classes too, especially compared to waking up at two-thirty in the morning and heading to Donut Delight to make pastries for the five a.m. open time. No one in Forbidden Lake even came to the doughnut shop that early, but Addalyn Merchant—the closest thing to a best friend Cassie had allowed herself to have—insisted they open at the ungodly hour.
“Just in case,” she said.
Cassie had only made the mistake of asking her “Just in case of what?” once. And she’d only worked at the shop for a week before she found out the answer. One Carlson Bixby.
Cassie could admit he was good-looking, with all his dark hair and those dreamy eyes. He wore a suit every day to his office in the city buildings, and he stopped by for coffee and a cherry fritter every Thursday morning.
So “just in case” was for Thursdays, and Addy’s huge crush on the parks department director that claimed he’d be mayor one day.
Cassie shook her head as she placed the last paper at the last station. “Ninety minutes,” she muttered to herself. If she could just get through the next ninety minutes, she could get home to Lars and Kyle, her twin half-brothers.
Fifteen was no joke for anyone, and her half-siblings had been through a lot in the past year and a half. A sharp pang of missing hit Cassie right behind her ribs, and she wondered if she’d ever be able to think about her mother without the accompanying pain in her chest.
Probably not.
She pressed against her side and went up to the front of the room, where a demo kitchen sat, an angular mirror above it so students could see what she was doing on the counter from anywhere in the room.
Her fantasies took over for a moment, and she closed her eyes as she imagined herself to be a celebrity chef, whisking something together in front of a camera. She opened her eyes and tilted the empty bowl toward the classroom, a picture-perfect smile on her face. “See how it comes together, but you haven’t lost the air in the egg whites? That’s what you want it to look like.”
When she let go of it, the bowl made a clanging sound as the bottom of it hit the counter. She wasn’t going to be a celebrity chef. Then the twins’ father would know where she was. Where his sons were.
And Cassie could absolutely not allow that.
She pulled her phone out, her anxiety suddenly boiling over. It was Larry Glassman’s parole hearing today, and Cassie still had a few friends in Chicago she could rely on. Willie Ashford was one, but the cute stylist Cassie had gone to for years hadn’t texted yet. Maybe Larry’s parole had been denied.
Hope floated behind Cassie’s heart, but she never let it stay for long. She’d gotten legal guardianship and custody of Lars and Kyle after their mother had died fifteen months ago. They’d immediately had a family council and decided to leave Chicago.
Five hours north, they’d stopped in the quaint lakeside town—and cherry capital of the nation—of Forbidden Lake. She’d gotten the job at the bakery, and then the university, and Cassie was doing the best she could to keep them all safe, secret, and together.
The door at the back of the room opened, and her first student peered inside. “Welcome,” she said in a falsely bright voice, though class didn’t start for another fifteen minutes. Her special needs students often came very early, as some of them had trouble with directions or finding their classrooms.
“Is this introductory cooking?” the man asked, his words a bit thick.
“Yes,” she said. “You can choose any station.”
“I’m Drew,” he said, entering the room. An older woman—clearly his mother—came in behind him. “And this is my mom, Ruthann.”
“Hello,” Cassie said. “I’m Cassandra Caldwell. I’ll be your professor.” She shook hands with Drew and his mother, who then promptly left. As the minutes ticked by, Cassie met all but one of her students, and they’d all chosen a station.
The clock ticked to five, and she strode to the front of the room, saying, “All right, it’s time to begin. Let’s start with the roll. Let me know you’re here when I call your name.” She went down the list, trying to memorize the name that went with each face as the students indicated they were here.
“So we’re missing Jonathan Addler,” she said, glancing around. At that moment, the door in the back opened again, and a man stepped inside.
He clearly did not have special needs, unless drop-dead gorgeous made the list of handicaps one might suffer from. And he definitely wasn’t suffering.
He wore a crisp pair of jeans and a polo the color the cherries would be in the summer. His dark hair swooped to the side like he’d just gotten off the set of an action movie where he rode a motorcycle along the beach.
There was a beach here, so maybe he had.
Cassie’s heart pinged around inside her chest, and she didn’t even know why. She’d met good-looking men before. Dated a few. Kissed a couple.
He ran his hand down his face, where he wore a neatly trimmed beard, as he glanced around and then to her. “Here,” he said, an arrogant smile curving his mouth.
Wow, what a mouth.
Cassie tore her gaze from his lips and cleared her throat. “Jonathan Addler?” she asked.
He strode over to the only empty station and sat on the stool like everyone else, his smile moving from arrogance to curiosity the longer she stared at him. He really was going to stay. She glanced around at the other students. Half of them were looking at her, and the other half were watching Jonathan.
She put her clipboard down and cocked her head toward the office door to her left. “Can I speak with you for a moment?”
“Am I in trouble already?” he asked. “I was five minutes late.”
“Now,” she said, marching over to her office and waiting for him to enter in front of her. Closing herself in a tighter space with this delicious male specimen wasn’t her greatest idea. Or maybe it was. She wasn’t exactly thinking straight at the moment. Not with all that pine tree, musky goodness now filling her nose.
The door clicked closed behind her, and Cassie wondered what in the blazes she was doing. Hadn’t another professor just been fired for having a relationship with a student?
Yes! her mind screamed. Open the door!
But she couldn’t have this conversation with him in front of the other students. She cracked the door and glanced over her shoulder. With the large window, she could see several other students, which meant they could see her too.
“This is a special needs course, Jonathan,” she said as quietly as she could.
“Jon,” he said.
She blinked and employed her patience. “Okay. Jon. This is a special needs course. For students with special needs.”
“I have a special need,” he said.
She folded her arms. “You do?”
“Yeah, I need to take this class.”
Annoyance surged through her at the same time desire made her head swim. She had some needs too, but that didn’t mean she did whatever she wanted. He couldn’t either.
“Well, you don’t have a mental disability,” she said. “This course is for students with mental disabilities. It will be rather slow and dull for someone like you.” She let her eyes wander down the length of his body and back.
When her gaze met his again, she realized she’d given away too much.
“Someone like me?” he asked, his dark eyes flashing dangerously.
A thrill ran through her, but she tamped it down. She could not start a relationship with a student. Oh, no. She could not. She needed this job if she ever wanted to sleep through the night again. Number two, she wasn’t dating anyone until the twins were adults and on their own. She’d promised her mother she’d make sure Lars and Kyle were taken care of until then. Safe from Larry. Prepared for the world.
And that meant she didn’t have time to be flirting or dating or building a relationship with a guy.
“You’ll have to transfer out,” she said, her voice not quite as strong as she’d like it to be.
“The other sections are all full.”
“So you thought you could just sign up for this one?”
“I just registered last week. I’m not taking anyone’s spot.”
“You don’t know that.” She shook her head, doubt trickling through her. Had Larry sent someone to see if she was the Cassandra Caldwell that had his sons?
Don’t be ridiculous, she told herself. She hadn’t even heard if he was out on parole yet. He had no idea where they were. But Jon still couldn’t stay in the class. Her supervisor had only allowed this class after Cassie had promised to only take special needs students in it.
“Sorry, Mister Addler.” She twisted the knob behind her though the door was already cracked and stepped into the kitchen.
“All right, guys,” she said, finding her thoughts on what their first lesson was. “We’re going to start with something really basic, but really important.” She indicated the supplies on the counter in front of them. “You each have a bottle of oil. Put a little bit in your hands and rub them together. Be sure to get all over the front, and back, and in between all your fingers.”
Cassie smiled at the girl nearest her, who didn’t have any qualms about greasing herself up, just as Cassie had asked.
She didn’t miss the fact that Jon did not leave the kitchen. He went right back to his station and followed her directions too, looking at her expectantly for the next instruction.
Her blood boiled, and she wasn’t sure if it was for the right reason or not.
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