Donovan jammed the bakery key into the lock and pushed the glass door open. “Here, come in,” he said, searching for the lights. “I’ll go turn on the heat and find a wine bottle opener. Make yourself at home.”

He watched as Zoe stepped in and removed her mittens, her blond hair wet from the snow. “I’ll be right back.” His eyes locked with her beautiful blue ones, and for a moment he lost his concentration. “Um . . .” He scratched his stubbled chin. “Once I find that heat . . . uh . . . turn on the heat . . . Don’t go anywhere.” Walking across the bakery, he pushed open the swinging double doors to the kitchen more than a bit annoyed at his rambling back there.

Flipping on the lights, he moved across the kitchen. Why was he stammering? It wasn’t the first time he’d rode out a snowstorm with a beautiful lady; albeit, never in a bakery and never with a woman who may or may not be his soul mate according to magic laws.

He reached the heat control unit, cranked it up, and then peeled off his coat, hanging it on a nearby hook. First order of business: let’s get Zoe some wine. She seemed a little tense. “Now where, Emma Stevens, would you keep an opener?” He searched the drawers to no avail.

His gaze finally rested on a knife block on the counter. “That’ll work,” he said, pulling out a paring knife.

Heading back into the main room, he maneuvered behind the bar. “I didn’t see any wine glasses, so we’ll need to improvise.” Glancing behind him, he spotted a row of pink mugs assembled next to the coffee pot and grabbed one. “I hope you don’t mind drinking out of this.” He waved the mug in the air.

“I’m not fussy.” Zoe pulled off her coat, draped it over the back of the booth, and came over to the bar, sliding onto a stool. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” Donovan set the mug down in front of her. There was something familiar about the pretty frozen yogurt shop owner. “Say, have we met before?”

“Before tonight?” she asked, eyebrows knitted.

“Yeah. Around town?”

“No,” she scoffed, adding, “definitely not in this town.”

Okay, then. Someone was still cranky. Maybe she didn’t want to talk about what she did outside her work. Not a problem. He wouldn’t pry. Still, she looked more than a little familiar. He rarely forgot a pretty face. He pushed the knife through the cork.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice curt.

“Opening the wine bottle.” Donovan grinned inwardly. He was going to make this woman thaw out and relax if it was the last thing he did. “It’s a handy little trick. I once saw one of my line cooks do it. My recipes often call for white wine.” He gave a sarcastic snort. “It was about the only skill she had. I fired her ass that same night.”

From the horror across Zoe’s face, he probably shouldn’t have been so blunt about letting an employee go. She was probably the type of employer to give her staff second and third chances. “I mean, she was new, but I had to let her go. She did something that could have cost me my business.” He paused, adding a lame, “It wasn’t like she’d been working for me for years. She’d only been on the job a couple of days. I didn’t even know her name.”

“Can I have my wine now?” was Zoe’s only response.

“Sure.” He handed her the mug. “I’m sorry I can’t offer you it in a proper glass,” he said, changing the subject.

“It’s fine.” She brought it to her lips and tilted it back—way back. Seconds later, she set her empty mug on the counter.

Donovan raised a curious eyebrow. Someone was thirsty. He picked up the bottle and refilled her mug.

“Thank you.”

“Anytime.” He studied her as she turned toward the window, her pretty blond hair now swept to the side. Yeah, they’d definitely met. He was sure of it. He couldn’t put his finger on where.

Then again. He was pretty sure if he’d met her they’d have had sex by now.

He filled his own mug halfway, taking a sip and nodding toward the window. “Man, it’s really coming down out there. How about that dinner I promised? Would you like to try some of my special linguini with Bolognese sauce?”

She whipped around, eyes blazing.

Reacting, he stepped back. Man, it was only a question. What was wrong with her? Maybe she wasn’t playing with a full deck. If Zoe was a little off, he’d like to think Abby would have warned him. Perhaps she didn’t eat meat and that’s what the reaction was simply about. “Are you a vegetarian? I could whip up something else.”

“No.” She shook her head. “I love pasta dishes with Bolognese sauce.”

“It was one of my signature dishes back in Colorado.” He paused, hoping to impress her. “I owned a five-star restaurant in Denver.”

She didn’t seem the least bit impressed. He continued, “It was touted as the best place to eat in the state by several culinary reviewers. A national cooking show even came out and taped a segment.” He paused, adding, “It was one of their highest rated episodes.”

He waited, but nope. Not a word. Not even a smile.

Oh, come on. Television. That was impressive. Damn. This woman was one tough cookie. He rolled up his sleeves, ready to dial up his charm. If there was one thing he could do just as well as whipping up a meal was impress the woman he made it for. “It so happens I have a huge pot in the refrigerator. I made a big batch for Abby earlier. I’ll go add some fresh ingredients and warm it up. There’s even some French bread in the back that I can toast with my homemade garlic seasoning.”

He moved from behind the counter, taking their two mugs and the bottle of wine with him, bringing them over to the nearest booth. “Why don’t you take a seat and enjoy the wine? I’ll be back with a dinner that’s going to knock your socks off.”

As Zoe slid off the stool and came over to the booth, he couldn’t resist checking out her figure, liking the view of her hourglass curves in her dark denim jeans.

She filled up her mug and took another long drink, mumbling to herself.

Yep, the verdict was still out if she was a bit off her rocker.

He headed into the kitchen. Crazy or not, with a body like that, he wouldn’t mind getting the chance to knock more than her socks off.

I should go.

Zoe grabbed her coat and mittens. It was wrong to be here alone with this man. Donovan clearly didn’t recognize her, but as the night went on, what if he did? Would he tell her off again like he did in Denver? Accuse her of nearly killing the governor.

She threw on her coat. No. Not going to happen because she was out of here. She could make her great escape while the renowned chef was in the kitchen warming up his five-star dinner.

She bit down on her lip, watching the snow fly from the sky. Walking two miles in a blizzard didn’t seem like the smartest plan.

But staying here and having dinner with Donovan didn’t seem safe either.

Not that she was scared of him. Sure, she knew of his reputation back in Denver of being a lady’s man, but she had to believe any friend of Abby’s and Adam’s probably made him a somewhat decent guy.

Yeah, a decent guy that called me a major idiot before kicking me out of his restaurant.

She glanced back toward the kitchen. How could he not recognize her?

Probably because he’d never uttered even a hello during her short time working there. Her memory easily returned to that horrible night when he came storming into the kitchen demanding to know who had garnished the governor’s plate with peanuts.

His sudden rant that evening had caused Zoe to spill all of the hot Bolognese sauce she’d been pouring over linguini onto her hand, scorching her arm. From her place on the line, she glanced over at Rosie Garcia—a single mother of three little ones under the age of five who had also started that week. Rosie’s panicked expression was all Zoe needed to see to realize what had happened.

It was an accident, but from his furious tirade, Donovan wasn’t going to listen to any excuses.

Rosie had confided in her over lunch that day that she was having a hard time making ends meet and desperately needed this job to help support her youngest son who was diagnosed with leukemia. His cancer treatments were to start soon.

In that moment, there was only one thing Zoe could think of to do because her co-worker and new friend couldn’t afford to lose her job.

She’d raised her hand.

“Stop thinking about it.” Zoe snapped back to the present and bolted for the front door. Now was not the time to relive the enormous humiliation of being fired so publicly. She’d go back to the Ice Heaven and curl up under her jacket in one of her booths and relive it there.

“Hey. Leaving so soon?”

She froze in place. Donovan’s deep, sexy voice sent tingles skittering up her back.

Damn him. “I was just . . .”

“From my experience, most customers in this town hightail it out after they’ve eaten not before, and they’re usually fourteen and trying to get out of paying their check.”

She smirked and turned slowly around.

Her breath caught as she stared at Donovan holding two plates piled high with linguini.

It only took one look at his culinary masterpiece for her stomach to growl its yearning.

What would the harm be in having a warm meal before she headed back to the Ice Heaven? She took a cautious step back to the booth and then another. “I wanted to see if anyone was on the road.” She offered the first excuse that popped into her head.

“Hmmm . . . I hope not. At least not tonight. It’s too dangerous out there.”

“Yeah. It’s coming down pretty hard.” That it was. It would probably be hours before a

plow made it through. She walked over and slid back into the booth, setting her mittens to the side and taking the fork Donovan offered.

“Listen, Zoe.” He set a plate of linguini down in front of her. “I know you don’t know

me. I mean, for all you know I could be an ax murderer.”

She laughed at that thought. Pompous asshole, yes. Small-town killer, unlikely. “Abby would never hire you.”

“Right. That she wouldn’t. I promise you, I’m harmless.”

She raised an eyebrow. Being known as Denver’s consummate bachelor in the local papers hardly made him harmless.

“What have you heard?” he asked, cocking his head to the side.

“Nothing. No one in this town has told me anything.” She took a bite, and her eyes immediately rolled back. Damn, his Bolognese sauce was as good as she remembered. “This is incredible.”

“Yeah, I love making it. Although, Abby didn’t have nearly enough spices to give it its unique kick.” He sprang up. “But she has pepper. That will work.”

Zoe couldn’t help catching the view as he bent over the counter to retrieve the pepper shaker. Man, he had one hell of a cute butt. The man could seriously rock a pair of dark jeans.

“So, why did you move to Buttermilk Falls?” Donovan sprang that question on her as he came back to the table, shaking the pepper across her plate.

“I needed a change.” She twirled her fork into the pasta, taking another eager bite. “I didn’t have much of a choice.” Since you ran me out of Denver.

“I completely understand. I got a little restless, too. Over Christmas, I decided it was time to do something different. Get out of the city and settle down.”

She glanced up from her plate, fork frozen in midair. “Yeah, right,” she blurted out,

immediately trying to recover. “Um . . . I mean . . . um . . . Good for you.” Stabbing the fork back into her pasta, she avoided eye contact.

“Okay, confess.” He leaned in. “You have heard something about me. Was it Rachel running her mouth?”

Zoe snorted. “No. I can honestly say I know nothing about you from your sister.” She

reached for a paper napkin from the dispenser on the table, wiping her mouth. “I’m sorry. I don’t even know you. You . . . um . . . you look like the type that wouldn’t settle down. That’s all I meant.”

“Well, looks can be deceiving.” He reached for his wine and took a sip. “So, Zoe. Why don’t you get along with my sister?”

Oh, so we’re going there, are we? She lifted her shoulder, giving what she hoped was an

indifferent shrug. “Who said we don’t get along? What has Rachel said about me?”

“Nothing, really. She has a few things to say on the subject of you and Will, though.”

Of course, she did. Zoe shook her head. “I wish she would drop it. Will Jenkins and I are

nothing . . . nothing at all. It’s all that stupid blue spoon’s fault.”

“Aw, right . . . the magic blue spoon.” He nodded to the kitchen. “Good thing it’s locked

in the safe with its pink counterpart. I heard Will showed up in your batter.”

Zoe looked away. It really shouldn’t surprise her that Donovan knew. Could the people in this town move on already? It seemed to be all anyone wanted to talk about.

If she had a dollar for how many people asked her when she and Will were getting married, she could open twenty frozen yogurt shops up and down Buttermilk Lake. “Well, it’s not going to happen. And besides, Adam was outing last kisses not predicting soul mates. He’s admitted it.”

“So you kissed Will?” Donovan asked that question, waggling his eyebrows.

“No.” She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Okay, fine. Yes. It was a holiday party for charity. I had a lot to drink.”

“The infamous Holiday Hook Up. I went to one years ago.”

“Oh, yeah. How did it turn out for you?”

He grinned. “Really well that night. Although, she’s married now . . . with triplets.”

“You hooked up with Caitlin Stevens?” Caitlin and her husband Josh were the only

couple in town with triplets. Zoe didn’t really know either very well, but Caitlin, the owner of the Majestic Theater, was always friendly when Zoe caught the weekly Tuesday matinee.

“Only that once. I dated Abby for a while.”

Zoe shot him a look. “Let me guess. You both were Homecoming King and Queen.”

“Nah. That went to Rachel and Adam.” He twirled his linguini. “You know, Will’s not a bad guy. He’d probably be a great boyfriend.”

She couldn’t help but laugh, breaking off a piece of her bread. Handsome, yes. Boyfriend material? She doubted it. “Will’s in love with Will. I’m not sure there’s room in his life for anyone else.”

“You’re probably right. I think my sister still has the hots for him.”

“Well, she can hot all over him. He’s not for me.” Zoe soaked up the last of the Bolognese with her bread, a little sad she didn’t have anymore but didn’t want to flatter Donovan by asking for seconds. The egomaniac wasn’t going to hear any more praise from her lips. Not in this lifetime.

“So, where are you from Zoe?”

“Den—” She started to say Denver and stopped. “Denwood . . . um . . . Massachusetts.”

“Never heard of it.”

Neither had she because she made it up. “It’s a small town, quite north of Boston.” She paused, adding, “It’s near the ocean. Tiny blip of a town. Closer to New Hampshire really. It’s not even on some maps.”

“Probably why I never heard of it. Did you always live in Denwood?”

“Yes. Born and bred.”

“I’m surprised you don’t have any sort of New England accent.”

“My dad was Californian.” That was the truth. Her dad had grown up in San Diego.

“I love California. I’ve always thought it would be cool to have a beachside restaurant. Surf and turf is one of my specialties, plus, nothing beats west coast sunsets on the water.”

She twirled her fork. A memory of her parents playing with her on the beach popped into her head. Those were such happy times that often warmed her heart before the sharp pang of sadness reminded her that for the most part she was now alone. Her dad still lived in Denver and had been less than thrilled when she told him she was relocating clear across the country. He wasn’t much of a flier, so if they were going to see each other, she’d have to be the one to visit.

Donovan leaned back and folded his arms. “So what brought you to Buttermilk Falls?”

“I needed a fresh change of scenery,” she said, wondering the same about him. Was he really telling the truth that he wanted to settle down and create a new life here?

“I can respect that. Buttermilk Falls is a great place to start over. The people here are real nice.” He chuckled and grabbed the wine bottle, refilling her mug. “Even me.”

“Well, I haven’t been here a full year, but I’m enjoying it. Everyone has been so welcoming of my business.”

“That’s great. I’m envious.”

“You are?” On what planet did Donovan Foster envy her?

“Yeah. It sounds like you knew what you wanted and went for it. I’ve been here two months and still haven’t a clue what it is I’m going to do. I thought I’d come back and everything would fall into place, but I continue to live out of a suitcase in my sister’s girly guest room. Everyone in town looks at me like I’ve lost my mind.”

“Have you?” she asked, cracking a smile.

He grinned back. “Maybe.”

“Well, there’s something to be said about keeping people on their toes.”

“Right. I’m in no hurry. I mean . . . I want to open a restaurant, but it has to be the right one. I don’t want to replicate what I did in Denver, but I don’t want to fade into the culinary sunset either. I’d like to build on my career in some way.”

“I don’t think you’ll fade into the sunset.” She paused. “I mean, I’m sure you’re well known.”

“I have a reputation for succeeding.”

Yeah, and of being a self-centered playboy who flies off the handle firing sweet line cooks. She picked up her wine, giving her mug a swirl. “I doubt you’re ready to be put out to pasture. You could do all kinds of things. With the internet these days, it’s not like you’d have to be only known in Buttermilk Falls. Besides, everyone loves a comeback.” Zoe took a sip of her wine. Was she honestly giving Donovan a pep talk?

“Yeah. I know what you mean about the internet. I was even thinking of live streaming my work in the kitchen. Maybe experiment with some new recipes . . .” He stopped for a beat, pointing to the snow. “Show people what they could make while riding out a snowstorm. I’m pretty good with a counter full of vegetables, a chunk of meat, and a soup pot. Maybe comfort food should be my next venture.”

A vision of her next to Donovan as he chopped seasonal vegetables for a warm, hearty stew popped into her head. “Stop it,” she mumbled.

“Stop what?”

“Oh nothing.” She set down her fork and picked up her mug, hoisting it in the air.

“To your culinary comeback.”

“Culinary comeback,” he repeated, lifting his mug up. “How about to culinary comebacks and a fresh change of scenery?”

“To culinary comebacks and a fresh change of scenery,” she repeated. His toast caused her cheeks to warm. Was the latter part meant for her? It sure sounded like a nod to what she’d said earlier. She clinked her mug to his and took a sip.

“I’m glad you liked the pasta.” He pointed to her empty plate; his gaze locked with hers for more than a split second.

“What?” She swiped her chin, glancing down at her hand. “Is there sauce on my face?” She’d die if there was.

“No. It’s just you really do look familiar. I can’t put my finger on where we might have met, but I’m almost certain we have. Maybe we bumped into each other at the Star Lite or the Buttermilk Tavern?”

“Maybe. It is a small town.” She sprang from the booth in the direction of the cake display, ready to change the subject. “I’d like some dessert. How about you?”

“Sure. Abby made an awesome red velvet cake this morning. There’s still some in the carousel.” He reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone. “Speaking of Abby, I’m going to send her a quick text and let her know we’re bunking here for the night unless she has a broom stick in the back we could borrow to get home.”

“That would be one cold ride.” Zoe couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculous image of her holding on to Donovan on the back of a broomstick. Over the last few months, she’d gotten used to talk about the Stevens cousins and their magical abilities—not to mention Adam’s. It was out of this world to experience it firsthand last December, even if she didn’t agree at all with the outcome that Will Jenkins was her soul mate.

Moving behind the counter, she found two small plates and a knife. While cutting two generous slices, she couldn’t resist stealing a little peek at her dinner companion.

Tonight had certainly been unexpected.

Nice even.

Maybe if they’d spoken before he fired her she could have told him the truth. Maybe no one would have been let go. It wasn’t like the governor went toes up, after all.

If Donovan hadn’t fired her, would they be working side by side at this very moment? Her mind wandered again to them cooking together at the Rocky Top, this time him inches from her bringing a spoon up to her mouth to taste his special sauce.

Enough already with the dumb fantasies. That would have never, ever happened. She snapped back to reality and grabbed the plates. Donovan had only one mission that night and that was to get rid of who he thought was responsible for the snafu. He’d canned her in a blink of an eye, and she had zero doubt he’d do it again without hesitation if he felt the need. If it hadn’t been Zoe to lose her job, it would have been her friend.

Returning back to the booth, she set the plates down.

And that’s why Donovan Foster was a world class jerk. Remember that.

“Thanks,” Donovan said, continuing to text.

“Everything okay?” Zoe slid back into the booth. “Is Abby upset that we’re here after hours?”

He looked up and flashed her a sly smile. “Not at all. She says that you should sit back, relax, and enjoy the best cake of your life.” He chuckled. “And that I can leave a ten-dollar bill on the counter to pay for it.”

Zoe dove her fork into the cake. The rich sugar and velvety cream cheese icing melted in her mouth. “She’s right. This might be the best ca—”

“Oh, this is interesting,” Donovan said, glancing down at his phone.

“Is it an update on the weather?”

“No, but I think I’ve found something for us to do to pass the time. Hold on.” He leaped

out of the booth and took off into the kitchen.

Something for us to do. What could he mean? Maybe Abby had told him where he’d find a pack of cards or a SCRABBLE set. “Just a warning,” she called out, “I’m a whiz at board games.”

She settled in her seat and took another bite of her cake. It was probably the wine influencing her thoughts, but she kind of liked the idea of spending the evening playing games and eating yummy desserts with Donovan. “That’s it. I have officially lost my sanity,” she said to herself while licking the frosting off her fork.

Less than a minute later, Donovan returned. “Ta-da.”

Zoe’s mouth dropped at the two items he waved in the air. “I thought those were locked in the safe.” Her gaze rested on the shimmering pink and blue spoons.

“I did too. Apparently, Abby forgot to lock it. She called it pregnancy brain.” Donovan walked over and handed her the pink spoon, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Care to do some baking tonight?”