“Tails,” Zoe said out loud to her empty frozen yogurt shop and flipped the penny in the air, watching it land on heads.

“O and ten. I guess I won’t be going to Vegas anytime soon,” she mumbled to herself, placing her finger on the old penny and sliding it across the marble counter. It’d been three days since the infamous coin toss that decided her fate.

Donovan was her business partner for the next two weeks.

At least, she thought he was. She straightened her apron and walked around the Ice Heaven’s counter, crossed the shop, and paused at the door. The street was relatively quiet for a Thursday afternoon. Her gaze fell on Donovan’s shiny black Audi.

Some business partner. He’d shown up the last three days, greeted her with a cup of coffee from the Star Lite, and offered small chitchat on the cold weather. Then he ghosted her until it was time to close the shop.

The first day, he’d come back in the late afternoon all smiles with one large soup pot full of cooking utensils. Yesterday was the same, another pot that this time included the mystery soup ladle they’d found in the antique purse.

Today, he breezed in with her coffee, said a quick hello, and away he went. Didn’t even bother to exchange polite small talk. She heaved a sigh. Maybe her business partner had lost his spark for good because cooking appeared to be the last thing on his mind.

“Where are you?” She stared across the empty street, her gaze landing on a heavy snowbank.

What was with them and snowstorms? Was she going to be tossed into Donovan’s life every time one hit?

When the coin landed on heads that night at Rachel’s, Zoe’s emotions had gone into overdrive. Their working together wasn’t a good idea. She could deny it all she wanted, but her attraction to him was only growing. Running a business side by side was not going to help her curb these emotions. Feelings she was all but sure were one-sided.

And even if they weren’t, what if he suddenly remembered why she’d been so familiar to him the night of the blizzard? Would he be disgusted and storm out of her kitchen like he’d done at the Rocky Top?

She shouldn’t have caved. Let him open a business somewhere else. That’s what she should have insisted, but when he’d opened up to her that night and confessed with such honesty that he’d lost his ambition, her heart had broken.

Here was a guy with an amazing amount of talent feeling useless. Yeah, in Denver she’d known his reputation as the arrogant playboy, but with each recent encounter, she was starting to see something different. Less pompous, more lost.

She’d been so worried about him recognizing her that she’d never stopped to question why he gave up his successful business in Denver and moved back home without a plan in the first place. He’d said the night they took refuge in the Sugar Spoon he’d needed a culinary comeback. She’d completely dismissed what he was really revealing as some catchphrase.

His frustration made her heart ache. She knew how brilliant he was, and it was a damn shame that people were no longer enjoying his talent. He needed a kitchen like all people needed air. It was his oxygen.

He should be buzzing around a prep counter, cutting, slicing, and whipping up mouthwatering dishes. In the moment, she’d gotten caught up in wanting to help him find his way back. It was the only reason she’d cast her own feelings and insecurities aside and agreed to the coin toss.

She rested both hands on the glass door handle, staring out the window. Maybe if they spent time together, he would see that she was talented and worthy of cooking next to him.

And, yes, logically their working together made sense. He should be able to help her bring in customers with hot food made by an award-winning chef.

She chuckled out loud. Probably every single woman in a hundred-mile radius would be stopping by for one of Donovan’s grilled cheese sandwiches and the chance to catch his eye. Hot food from a hot chef was exactly what she needed to lure customers in here.

But to do that, Donovan needed to be here. It would be hard to bring in customers with an infamous chef who had no desire to be in the kitchen.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Donovan crossing the street in the shop’s direction, his short black parka zipped to his chin. She scurried across the shop and rounded the counter, smoothing her hair before grabbing a dish rag.

“Hey,” he said, entering the shop.

She ran the cloth across the counter, pretending to scrub dry yogurt crud that didn’t exist. “Oh, hey,” she said nonchalantly.

Donovan unzipped his jacket, looking around. “Quiet afternoon.”

“Yeah.” She set down the rag, biting back the urge to say, Maybe if you lived up to your end of the deal, we’d be serving a shop full of customers. Or something more colorful. She wasn’t normally a swearer, but his casual afternoon arrival for the third day straight was really testing her.

“It’ll pick up.” He grinned and slid off his jacket, laying it over an empty chair. She couldn’t help but notice he was wearing the same outfit as the night of the blizzard. Her fingers tingled at the memory of grabbing hold of the dark sweater before she smashed her lips into his.

Flushed, she rubbed her neck. “Did you have a good day?” she asked.

“I did.”

Good for you. Good thing she wasn’t paying him hourly or a set salary. She’d have to fire him. She snorted at that thought.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. Just thinking about irony.”

“Irony,” he repeated.

She placed her hands on her hips. It was time to be direct. “You know, I thought our deal included you actually cooking in my kitchen, but you’ve yet to step foot in there.”

He shot her the sexiest smirk. “It is ironic, isn’t it?”

“Yep,” she managed to push out, her legs wobbling a little behind the counter.

Without warning, he moved his sweater up over his head. His white underneath shirt rode up, flashing a hint of his toned stomach.

Heat traveled through her. Holy tight abs! “What are you doing?”

“Getting ready to cook. You’re right. It’s high time I step into the kitchen. I don’t want my sweater sleeves to catch fire.” He moved past her, setting the sweater on the counter, his scent tickling her nose. “I could use some help, if you have some time.”

Zoe stood frozen on the outside, heat scorching her insides. She took a deep breath to cool herself down.

Now he wants to cook. “I just need to finish wiping down the counter and count the cash in the register,” she said.

“Great. I’ll see you in the kitchen.”

Zoe busied herself for a few minutes, stalling to collect her thoughts before joining him. What was the point in cooking tonight? Maybe he wanted to get a head start and freeze some things.

Reaching for her purse, she pulled out a tube of cherry lip gloss and applied it to her lips and finally headed into the kitchen, her breath hitching at the sight of Donovan buzzing around. Sure, he’d made her three meals now, but this was different. He was in her shop. In her kitchen. Doing something to help her and her business.

Her partner had finally shown up.

And in a white T-shirt and jeans was sexy as all hell. “What are you making?” she asked, leaning against the sink.

Donovan spun around, a can of chicken stock in hand. “My famous sweet cream soup.”

She knew that soup. A week before she started working at the Rocky Top, she’d had lunch there with her friend, Allison, and ordered that very soup. It was that day she’d also filled out an application to work in his kitchen.

Hmpf. She turned to the sink and pushed up the faucet, washing her hands. The beginning of the end.

Do not go there. She shook the water from her fingers and defiantly turned back around. Her inner insecurity that she wasn’t good enough to stand in a kitchen next to Donovan wasn’t going to show up tonight. She stood tall. This was her shop, her kitchen, and he wanted to be in here. “I thought you were going to do a Soup of the Day.”

“I am.”

She cocked her head. Refrigerating the soup didn’t seem like him. He was more of a stove-to-table chef. She was pretty sure it wouldn’t taste nearly as good as if he’d just made it.

Was he planning on being away again tomorrow and wanted to get a head start on the soup? They’d never discussed the details of their partnership. What if he planned on making meals in the evening and not being here during the day?

That thought made her a little sad.

More than a little.

Donovan set the can of stock down and turned up the burner. “I’m going to make two large pots, which I think will go well with your chocolate frozen yogurt.”

Finally. Chef Foster was ready to get started. “Are you planning on being here tomorrow?” she asked, hoping the answer wasn’t no.

“Yes.”

“Great!” she blurted out a little too enthusiastically, dialing the next sentence down a bit. “I mean, everyone will want to meet the new celebrity chef.”

He laughed. “If all goes well tonight, we should have a full house tomorrow.”

“What’s happening tonight?” She was thoroughly confused. Did he want her to keep the shop open later than usual? She doubted customers would come in. Even if it wasn’t ten degrees outside, no one knew about their plan to serve meals. Maybe if he’d been around the last three days they could have talked about advertising, not that she had any extra income to do anything beyond taking out a small ad in the local newspaper or pinning some flyers up around town.

He moved from the stove, resting a hand on her arm, and oh yeah, skittles ricocheted up.

He gave her a short squeeze. “Tonight, we’re going to give out free samples at a high school basketball game. Do you have small cups?”

What? They were going to a public event together. She went over to the shelves where she kept her paper products and bent down, pulling out two packages filled with small paper cups. “How many do you need?”

“Enough for three hundred.”

Zoe’s jaw dropped. “We’re giving out three hundred samples tonight?”

“Yeah.” He took one package from her hand. “Bad idea?”

“No. It’s a good idea. That’s a lot of people.”

“I know. Good thing the team’s undefeated.” Donovan returned to the stove, stirring the soup. “It should be packed.” He paused. “Do you have enough frozen yogurt for that many folks? I should have called you earlier to see.”

Yes, you should have. “I have three full tubs in the freezer display. I think that will be enough.”

“Great. If you could prepare the frozen yogurt cups, I’ll take care of the soups.” He grabbed hold of the mystery ladle, dipping it into the pot. “We make a great team, Zoe Mathews.”

Her cheeks flamed at that declaration. Never in a million years when she was standing in his kitchen in Denver with all the other line cooks would she ever have imagined that those words would come from his lips.

But they just did. She quickly turned her head away to shield her cheeks, grabbing another package of small cups.

Was this really happening? Was she going to spend the evening at his old high school giving out free samples to the town that officially announced her new partnership with Donovan Foster?

She glanced over her shoulder, watching Donovan as he lined up the cups along the counter, humming to himself.

Sure seemed that way. She placed a hand over her rapid heart, trying to keep inside the secret of how she felt about that notion.