Donovan grabbed a wooden spoon and stirred the industrial metal pot full of his cheesy tomato soup, the gooey cheese melting in the hot soup. When he’d left the Ice Heaven earlier in the week, he’d gone straight to the senior center. It was a crazy idea, and one he wasn’t quite sure would even work since it hinged on Zoe’s agreeing to it, but damn, he had his old friend, Spark, back.

He turned the burner on high and spun in a circle. It was time to ignite his ole buddy.

When he’d reached the senior center, he’d been greeted by the director, Loretta Collins, who just so happened to be his and Rachel’s former babysitter growing up. She’d greeted him with a warm hug and a peck on the cheek.

It was then that he asked for a favor: let him cater lunch for the Saturday event, and he promised to knock everyone’s socks off with a selection of gourmet grilled cheese sandwiches and his special tomato soup.

It only took Mrs. Collins seconds to nod an enthusiastic yes.

So, here he was in the center’s large kitchen, making lunch for a room full of seniors, ready to put his plan into motion. When Zoe arrived with her frozen yogurt, he was prepared to make his pitch.

He gave his soup a satisfied stir. Yes, this could work.

It was simple really. She needed business, and he needed a kitchen. If she let him rent her space, he’d make a comfy food menu of delicious soups and sandwiches that would bring customers in for miles.

It was the perfect plan.

That all rested on Zoe agreeing to it.

Now, if she would just get here. Loretta had confirmed that day that Zoe was bringing over some of her frozen yogurt for dessert. He’d asked his former babysitter if she’d keep it between them that he’d be making lunch.

She’d pinched his cheek and told him to stay out of trouble.

He made no promises. He grabbed a plastic spoon and dipped it into the velvety red mixture, taking a taste. The cheesy tomato soup melted into his taste buds. How could Zoe not agree to working with a seasoned chef ready to kick the culinary butt out of comfort food?

He grabbed a fistful of nearby shredded cheese and dropped it into the mixture. If on the off chance she said no, he wouldn’t push her. That wasn’t his style. If she didn’t like the idea, he’d drop it. However, he hoped by staging this catering gig she’d see firsthand how many happy customers she could have in her shop if she went into business with him.

He’d always been a show rather than tell kind of guy.

She’d be crazy not to consider it. It was a low risk proposition with the potential to get her out of this winter rut. She’d be in the black in no time.

It would also buy him some time until he decided what kind of restaurant he’d open up and where it would be. He’d spend his days off researching possible space in nearby towns since all the Buttermilk Falls venues were taken. He’d also give some thought to what he wanted to be known for and what kind of food he wanted to serve.

“Hey, buddy.”

Donovan looked over his shoulder to see Will. He chuckled. Strike that. To see Will wearing a tux. “What’s the occasion?”

Will straightened his bow tie, sporting a Cheshire cat grin. “You didn’t hear the news? I’m getting married today.”

“Yeah, right.” Donovan turned his attention back to his soup, giving it a good stir. He’d heard that the Belle Bridal Boutique was hosting some fashion show during lunch. “Who’s the lucky bride?” He knew it wasn’t Rachel. He’d talked her into helping him prepare the meal, and he’d only minutes ago sent her on an emergency run to the grocery store for more cheese. “Do I know her?”

“Sure do.” Will put his hands together and cracked his knuckles. “It’s Zoe Mathews.”

Donovan’s hand slipped, touching the hot red burner. “Shit.” He pivoted over to the sink, turned on the faucet, and slid his hand underneath, the ice-cold water soothing his hot fingers. “Zoe’s out there?” he asked.

Will reached for a paper towel from a wall dispenser, handing it over. “You okay,

man?”

“Yeah.” Donovan brushed off his friend’s concern, turned off the faucet, and took the

towel. “Burnt fingertips come with the job. So . . .” he started, wanting to get to the question at hand. “Zoe’s here?”

“Yep.” Will whistled. “She’s looking mighty fine. Girl knows how to work a gown.”

Zoe was in a wedding dress, pretending to marry Will? Donovan’s brain was having a hard time computing. So much for her wanting nothing to do with the guy. “I heard she was bringing frozen yogurt.”

“She is.” Will smiled and nodded to the door. “I’m going to help her bring it over after we get hitched. Come take a look. She’s in the foyer.”

Donovan crumpled up the paper towel, making an easy two-pointer into a large garbage can. Maybe he could have a few words with Zoe about his business proposition before she and Will did whatever they were doing. He followed Will out the side and down the corridor, more than a bit interested in seeing what Zoe was wearing.

Will stopped at the swinging door and stepped aside. “After you.” He paused, smirking. “Say, do you want to be my best man?”

Giving his buddy the side-eye, Donovan placed a palm on the door and pushed gently. The gorgeous woman in front of him caused his tongue to tie.

But even if he could talk, he’d have a hard time describing her beauty. Zoe stood in the center of the foyer in a long, white wedding dress, the sleek gown accentuating every curve before it flowed to the floor. Her hair was swept off her face with big loose curls gently falling around her shoulders.

His gaze rested on the soft lips he’d kissed, now shaded the prettiest pink he’d ever seen. “Wow,” was all he finally got out.

“Right.” Will came up beside him, but immediately stepped back against the wall. “Oh, man. What is she doing here?”

“Who?” Donovan released his hand from the door, staring at his friend.

“Your sister. She just walked in the front door. Who invited her?”

“I did.” Donovan slapped his pal on the shoulder and headed back for the kitchen.

“Why would you do that?” Will asked, following behind.

“I needed some help.” Donovan walked over to the stove, picked up the plastic spoon,

and tested his soup for a second time. “I ran out of cheese, so I sent her to the store.”

That sentence was all it took for Will to twist off his bow tie and throw it on the floor. “Rachel can’t see me like this.” He moved across the kitchen, yanking off his jacket. “I can’t marry Zoe.”

“News flash, buddy.” Donovan shook his head. Man, when did his friend become such a

drama queen? “It’s not a real wedding.”

“Doesn’t matter. I didn’t know Rachel would be here.” Will flung the jacket at Donovan, nearly missing the burner. “If your sister sees me even pretending to marry Zoe, that’s it. I’ll never have a chance with her again. I’m finished.”

“You didn’t think she’d hear about this little pretend wedding you orchestrated even if she wasn’t here?”

Will pulled his crisp white shirt out of his pants and rolled up the sleeves. “I guess I didn’t think it through. I’m not going out there.”

“You have to.” Donovan clutched the blazer. “You can’t leave Zoe at the altar,” he teased, but was sort of relieved. She deserved a man’s full attention, even if it was a fake wedding.

He watched Will pace the kitchen. His pal had had a thing for Rachel since they were kids. When Rachel had gotten together with Adam in high school, it had damn near broken the sophomore Will.

And adult Will seemed to be just as high-strung when it came to Rachel.

Donovan set his spoon down. Will was probably right. His sister would see this as a reason to never give him a chance. She was stubborn that way. “I’ll be the groom.”

Will stopped in his tracks. “Thank you, Jesus.”

“Dude. You need to grow a pair.”

“On it. I’ll see you later.” Will sprinted for the door.

“Not so fast, buddy,” Donovan shouted. “This is an exchange not a favor.” He picked up an apron off a nearby hook and tossed it to Will. “Rachel will show you the ropes,” he said, adding for Will’s benefit, “You can thank me later.”

Picking the bow tie off the floor, he slid on the jacket and headed for the door right on time to greet his sister. “About time you returned,” he said, adjusting the tie around his neck. “You remember the trick to my perfect grilled cheese?”

“Yeah, mayonnaise both sides,” she mumbled, her hard gaze on Will. “What’s he doing here?”

“You’ve been promoted to head chef, and Will’s your assistant.” Donovan began giving orders, something that came easy to him in his kitchen, or any kitchen for that matter. “Will, pour the soup into those cups on the counter and then Rachel will show you how to make the sandwiches. The trick is to grill until the cheese is halfway melted.”

“Where are you going?” Rachel made no movement to leave her spot.

Donovan kissed her on the cheek, grinning. “To make Zoe Mathews my business partner.”

Zoe gave a wave to an old man who’d introduced himself as Henry, telling him she’d save a dance for him. He’d come up to her all smiles and said she was the most beautiful bride he’d ever seen.

He also offered to sneak her into his room in the nursing home after hours, saying he’d leave the window cracked open.

Dirty old man.

She moved across the foyer, the long train of the dress hiding her satin white heels underneath. When she’d showed up this morning to the Belle Bridal Boutique, she didn’t realize that she’d get the full beauty treatment. Not only had Will assigned her to wear the most exquisite gown she’d ever seen, but he’d also arranged for Peggy, a beautician from the Spring Curls, to be there to do her hair and makeup.

In the gorgeous white dress with its satin and lace trim, her hair swept up and more eye shadow and lipstick than she’d ever wear on a normal day, she felt like a princess.

“Are you ready?” Bridget Reed bounced over to her in a short, pale pink gown, handing her a small bouquet of pink and white flowers, white satin ribbon flowing from the handle. The head librarian’s bubbly personality always showed through. She and her husband, Tom, had stopped into the Ice Heaven a couple of days ago, and Bridget shared she’d volunteered to be Zoe’s pretend maid of honor.

“I guess so. I hope the groom shows up,” Zoe kidded. Since he’d arranged for a limo for the pseudo wedding party, she knew for a fact that a tux-wearing Will was in the main dining room, probably hamming it up with the seniors.

Perhaps one day her own real wedding would be as much fun as this fake one.

But with another groom who didn’t check himself out in every store, car, and door reflection from the boutique to here. Yep, that was Will Jenkins through and through.

It’d been a great morning and far from her usual Saturday routine of going to the Star Lite, reading a newspaper, and then doing her weekly grocery shopping.

Will had been an awesome faux groom, supplying the wedding party models with mimosas. Zoe had enjoyed the opportunity to hang out with people her age. It was the first time she didn’t feel like the lone outsider.

Bridget had even invited her to a girls’ night out with Caitlin for later in the month. She smiled over at the librarian, happy that she may have finally made a new friend. Maybe things were turning around and she wouldn’t have to spend another Friday night alone.

The “Wedding March” began, and Bridget ordered all the pretend bridesmaids to follow her into the main room.

Zoe took a deep breath. For a fake wedding, her palms were sweating. All eyes would be on her, and that was nerve-racking. She was more of a “stand in the shadows” kind of girl.

“It’s time to step out of the shadows.” She gave herself a pep talk and crossed the foyer into the main dining room. You’re having a great time.

This would only be a few minutes, and then she and Will would run back to her frozen yogurt shop to fetch the prepared cups she’d made this morning. Easy, peasy.

Pushing through her nerves, she turned for the entrance. Her heart stopped first, followed by her feet.

What was Donovan Foster doing on the stage? And wearing a tux! Where the hell was Will?

Oh, God. What do I do?

Donovan lifted his lips, giving her what had to be the sexiest smile on the planet . . . or any planet. He nodded ever so slightly for her to join him on stage.

Was this a joke? What happened to the original fake groom?

Realizing that all eyes were on her, she pressed one heel forward, trying hard not to show that her insides had come completely undone.

Once she reached the stage, Donovan offered his hand, his touch sending tingles up her arm.

“Hi,” was all she could say, taking his hand and joining him on stage.

“You look beautiful.”

“I . . . um . . . where’s Will?”

“Stage fright.”

Her eyebrow lifted. “Seriously?”

He leaned in. “I hate to tell you this, but he ran away with my sister to live a life of serving grilled cheeses and tomato soup to Buttermilk Falls residents.” He nodded. “See for yourself.”

She looked out to the crowd and stifled a laugh. Sure enough, Will was following Rachel around the room, setting down soup cups onto the tables.

“Jerk,” she kidded. “I should have known he’d leave me at the altar.” She turned to Donovan. “So, are you my new Sweet Match Up?”

“Looks that way.” He pointed down to his pants. “I’m sorry about these.”

Zoe looked down, and this time couldn’t hold in a laugh. She hadn’t noticed his black-and-white checkered chef pants.

“You look beautiful,” he repeated.

Her cheeks warmed. Standing next to Donovan Foster—while wearing a wedding dress and having him call her beautiful—was definitely not how she envisioned this day would turn out.

Since the snowstorm, she’d done her best to forget how incredibly awesome it had been to be in his arms.

Even after she’d wigged out on him at the Majestic Theater, there had been something about the way he tried to calm her down that she’d appreciated.

And here he was pretending to be her groom. Had he traded places with Will on purpose? Was he feeling something for her, too?

Maybe . . . maybe not. All she knew . . . Donovan’s taking her hand to help her onto the stage made his firing her all those months ago feel like that event never happened.

She turned to face him, preferring this to being fired. “You don’t look so bad yourself . . . I mean . . . um . . .” Feeling a blush coming on, she looked out to the audience and caught the eyes of all the seniors. Man, there were a lot of them. “um . . . I’m not sure what to do now.”

“I got this.” Donovan turned to face the crowd. “Ladies and gentleman. Be prepared to have the best grilled cheese and tomato soup you’ve ever tasted.”

He let go of Zoe’s hand and took two cups of soup from a server, handing one to Zoe.

“Thank you,” Zoe said cautiously.

“Taste it.”

Were they going to skip vows? That would be totally fine by her. Will hadn’t given her a script, and she’d never been good at winging it. She put the spoon to her lips, the soup instantly melting on her tongue. “Wow.”

“What do you think?”

“It’s delicious.” That was an understatement.

“We could be a sweet matchup, Zoe Mathews.” Donovan grabbed her free hand. “I want you to be my partner.”

WHAT!!! Zoe gulped, her knees wobbled underneath her dress. Oh, God. For pretend words, his sexy smile was rocking her insides. “Um . . .”

“Take a look around. Everyone loves my decadent soup and gourmet grilled cheese.”

She arched an eyebrow. This was an interesting way for him to start his vows, but, okay, he was a chef. “Yes . . .”

“I could make it every day.”

A vision of Donovan bringing her a hot bowl of soup as she sat near a crackling fireplace popped into her head. He’d uncork a bottle of red wine, kneel down beside her, and stroke her cheek with her finger, telling her how beautiful she was before he brought his mouth to hers . . . Zoe’s gaze rested on his full lips. “Go on.” She couldn’t help but coax him.

“If I had access to the kitchen in your yogurt shop, I could make you money.”

She snapped back to attention.

Fantasy over.

“I don’t understand,” she started, a knot forming in her stomach. She suspected his vows were not going to be traditional, and perhaps, self-serving.

“Think about it. I need a place to cook and for customers to see that I’m back for good. It doesn’t matter what kitchen I use. I need to start cultivating regulars who will follow me wherever I end up. I could make soups and sandwiches. Bring in those customers you need. We could work out a deal on the profits. It’s a win, win.”

Zoe stood stunned. Donovan Foster . . . the man who’d fired her all those months ago . . . wanted to go into business with her? “You want to use my kitchen?”

“I do.” He squeezed her hand.

Right words, but Zoe realized Donovan had had a different agenda altogether when he donned the tux. One that would benefit him.

Of course. How could she be so stupid? Donovan wasn’t interested in her. It was all about him and his culinary comeback.

“Zoe.” He folded his hand over hers. “I do,” he repeated.

She shook her head, pulling her hand out of his. Boiling blood replaced nervous tingles. How could he ambush her like that in front of all these people?

“I don’t.” She hiked up her train. What she needed to do was get away from Donovan because whatever she thought he might be feeling wasn’t the case. Rushing off the stage, she zigzagged through the tables and out the foyer into the cold air. Once outside, she gave her bouquet to an old woman coming into the center and headed for her shop.

Mortified and embarrassed, she took off down the sidewalk, the bitter cold seeping through the wedding dress. Donovan recognizing her was no longer her greatest risk. Not when her heart seemed to want his attention.