Zoe stopped short of the Belle Bridal Boutique, the beautiful wedding dress that had made her feel like a princess for a few short hours now draped over her arm. It was Monday afternoon, and she’d finally mustered up the courage to return the exquisite gown to Will.

Keeping it over the weekend only heightened the embarrassment she’d felt. Saturday had been a complete, humiliating disaster, and she should have never put it on to begin with.

To think she’d thought for an insane moment that Donovan’s compliments were genuine. That he’d meant what he’d said. That he thought she was beautiful.

He’d only said it to get something from her. She knew that. She’d had a lot of time to dissect the event over the weekend. His motives as clear as the cloudless, blue sky.

She sighed. Did she find him attractive? Yes.

Did she have a tiny bit of hope that his compliment had been sincere and that he might want to kiss her again?

Okay, yes.

But this was Donovan Foster. The man who fired her and truly only cared about himself. Saturday, he’d fully lived up to that reputation. She didn’t believe for one minute that his idea to go into business was motivated by him wanting to help her.

There was no way she’d share a kitchen with him. Yeah, she needed the money, but she’d find it another way.

She pulled on the handle and entered the boutique, greeted by loud dance music. A little over the top for a posh boutique, but she liked it.

“Hey, Zoe!” Will moved from behind the counter, taking the dress from her. She couldn’t help but notice he was looking more casual today in jeans and a black cable sweater.

“Interesting music choice.” She nodded to the ceiling.

“I’m going for a wedding reception atmosphere. I’ve been doing some maintenance in the back and needed a pick-me-up.” He chuckled. “My mom’s classic taste lasted all of five minutes.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t return this to you on Saturday.” After her humiliating runout, she’d dashed back to the Ice Heaven, loaded up her car with the frozen yogurt cups, and dropped them off to the center’s back door, profusely apologizing to Loretta saying she wasn’t feeling well and needed to go lie down.

Then, she hid out in her apartment for the rest of the weekend.

“No problem. Let me hang it back up.” He maneuvered across the boutique and slipped the dress in a nearby rack. “Listen, Zoe. I’m sorry about Saturday.”

Feeling a little warm, she unzipped her coat and glanced around. Will must be experiencing the same dry spell she was because there wasn’t a soul in the boutique. “Sorry about what?”

“Not giving you a heads-up about my last-minute replacement.” He came back with a bottle of champagne. “Care for a drink?”

She smiled. No wonder he didn’t seem to miss his old mechanic gig. “I’m good.” It probably wasn’t a good idea to stay too much longer. It was nearly dark, and the town was about to be blanketed with another round of snow. Nothing like the last time, but she wasn’t taking any chances and planned to be snuggled deep under her covers with a mug of hot chocolate and her Kindle before the first snowflake fell.

“C’mon. Just one.” Will popped the bottle and grabbed two flutes from below the counter. “I hate to drink alone.”

Well, it wasn’t like she had any customers to rush back to. One glass wouldn’t hurt. Then, she’d go back to the Ice Heaven, close up shop, and head home. “Okay, sure.”

Will poured the sparkly wine, handing one to Zoe, clinking his glass to hers. “Cheers.”

“Cheers.”

“If the guys in the auto body shop could see me now.” He tipped up his glass.

She laughed. “Do you miss it?”

“Not really. My brother, Dan, has things pretty much under control.” He maneuvered behind the counter. “So, again, I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For Saturday. Donovan and I didn’t know it would upset you when we switched.”

“It’s fine.” She took a long sip, delaying her asking the one question that she feared the answer to but wanted to know it anyway. “Why did you?”

He paused for a beat, then said, “Rachel.”

“Rachel?”

“Yeah. I saw her come in and didn’t know what to do.” He set his glass down on the counter. “I know. Stupid, but I didn’t know she was going to be there. If she saw us getting married—”

“Pretending to get married,” Zoe corrected him.

“I didn’t want to risk her wrath.”

Well, she couldn’t argue with him there. She asked the last question, trying hard not to show that she cared. “So, you convinced Donovan to step in?”

“Didn’t have to.” He gave her a wink. “He was happy to play the part.”

Zoe’s cheeks flamed, but reality quickly brought the heat level down. Donovan obviously saw his taking Will’s place as an opportunity to spring on her his big plans for their matchup. He probably thought there was no chance she’d say no if he asked her in front of a packed room. “Did you know what he was going to do?”

“Ask you to be his business partner? No.” He reached out and touched her hand. “He didn’t mean for it to go down like that. He felt bad after you left. The dude never feels bad about anything, but he did this time.”

Yeah, so bad that he couldn’t stop by her shop today and apologize in person. Not that she wanted him to.

She took another sip. Okay, maybe she did a little. “I overreacted. I shouldn’t have run out like I did.”

“Why did you?”

Zoe blinked. Way to be direct, Will. Even though they were becoming friends, she wasn’t about to reveal her feelings for Donovan that she’d been struggling with since their kiss during the snowstorm or her brief history with the arrogant chef back in Denver for that matter. “I was caught off guard, that’s all. I don’t like surprises.” She finished her glass and changed the subject. “So, did you enjoy your afternoon with Rach—?”

Her question was interrupted by the sound of the front door chiming. A tall, middle-aged man bundled in a brown winter jacket and black boots stepped in.

“Can I help you?” Will asked.

The man pulled his clipboard from under his arm, adjusting his thick brown glasses to read what it said. “I’m looking for the Ice Heaven.”

Zoe’s ears perked up, and she set down her flute on the counter. “I’m the Ice Heaven. Um . . . I mean, I own the Ice Heaven.”

“Great. How do I get to your loading dock?”

“Loading dock?” She hadn’t placed any orders in over a month and certainly not for anything that would need to be loaded in. “For what?”

“My truck’s full with your boxes.” He pointed toward the outside. “But if I get started now, I should have everything out before the snow starts flying, if you’ll point me in the right direction.”

Zoe peered outside to see the words “Fresh Foods” in bright red across the big semitruck. Below the words was a giant illustration of a basket full of green, yellow, and red fruits and vegetables. “I didn’t order anything from Fresh Foods. There must be a mistake.”

The trucker looked down at his clipboard. “Are you Zoe Mathews?”

“Yes.”

“It says right here that fifty boxes are yours.”

“Fifty boxes! What?” She glanced over at the man’s nametag that read “Carl.” “Carl, may I see the order?”

Carl handed her the clipboard, and sure enough, the order was in her name for more than one thousand dollars of produce, dairy, breads, and canned products. “I don’t have that kind of money, besides, my kitchen’s not big enough for this, let alone I don’t use most of these items. This has to be a mix-up.”

Zoe’s mental wheels began to spin. Or was it a matchup? Her eyes narrowed as she studied the invoice with her name printed on the customer line. All of these items seemed to scream fresh soups and sandwiches. Had Donovan ordered this?

She was sure that answer was yes.

“Why that cocky, arrogant, son of a . . .” She cut herself off and squared her shoulders, handing the old man back his clipboard. “I didn’t place this order.”

“Are you sure you want me to take it back?” He paused, looking at her with a little plea. “I’m headed an hour north to my home before the snow hits, but I’ll have to turn around and return them to the warehouse.”

She didn’t care if he had to drive to Miami. She wasn’t taking them. “I’d like to talk to a manager.”

The trucker gave her an annoyed look and reached for his phone. He moved toward the door to make the call.

“Weird.” Will came up beside her.

“You could say that again.”

“If he’s headed north, he really should get on the road as soon as he can. I just checked the weather on my phone. Not looking good for later.”

Zoe sighed. The last thing she wanted was for the old man to be driving a semi into a snowstorm. “Fine. Carl, I’ll take the items.”

Carl turned around, looking relieved. “Great, thank you.” He added, “My wife thanks you, too.”

She escorted the delivery man outside and pointed in the direction of her shop. He’d have to load them into the front. She might be able to get most of the perishables in her walk-in freezer, but she had no clue what she’d do with the rest.

Will joined her on the curb, rubbing his hands together. “You want some help?”

“No. You go home.” She zipped her coat all the way up and started to leave but stopped. “On second thought, yes. I do need you to do something for me. Text Donovan and tell him to get his butt down to the Ice Heaven now to pick up his items.”

“I’m so glad you’re here.” Abby took the baking sheet from Donovan and placed her mushroom caps in the hot oven.

“Anytime.” Donovan was grateful when Abby called asking for his help. It got him out of the office and away from the lavender purse . . . and its new contents.

He couldn’t resist checking it this morning. When he slid his hand in, sure enough he felt the seasoning and business cards, but weighing its bottom was something entirely new.

He’d discovered two eggs inside.

Two random eggs. He’d also found an old penny.

Did Mary want him to cook her breakfast? He’d charge her more than one cent.

“Happy to assist,” he said to Abby, meaning it. Not only was it a welcome diversion, but it was good to spend the afternoon in the Lakeside Inn’s kitchen assisting Abby in prepping for her catering gig.

Abby tossed over a wink. “And to think you could have been on your honeymoon.”

“Ha. Ha. Very funny.” He really wasn’t surprised that Abby would tease him mercilessly about what went down at the Sweet Match Up. It was fully expected. News that Zoe had run out on him spread like wildfire. He currently couldn’t go anywhere without ladies whispering to one another while tossing sympathetic glances his way.

He sprinkled some parsley over the second batch of mushroom caps, finishing them off. Why was he still dwelling on what happened? It wasn’t like it was a real wedding. Although, when Zoe took off on him, the heavy block of disappointment anchored in his chest had felt real. “What I can’t believe is that it took you two hours to get a jab in.”

Abby came up beside him, fisted her hand, and gave his arm a friendly punch. “It’s called restraint. I told Brandon I’d work on my bluntness this year.”

He chuckled. “That guy is good for you . . .” He paused, adding, “. . . as I’m sure you are for him.”

Abby’s cheeks immediately turned red. “We both have our moments. I’m going to keep him around.”

“Well, I might have enjoyed the inn-owner life if Brandon hadn’t come into the picture.” He liked that he could flirt with his ex and get away with it. She knew it meant nothing. They’d always had a light banter between them even after the breakup.

Abby laughed, taking the mushroom caps from Donovan and slid them into the oven underneath the first sheet. “You and I would have never worked out.”

He knew that. He leaned against the kitchen island in thought. What he didn’t know was why.

They’d fooled around a bit in high school but started dating when he was home for the holidays one year. They’d stayed a long-distance couple while she was in college. She’d even come out to Colorado to see him. They’d always gotten along.

Maybe it was time to ask the question. Perhaps it was the root to why he was still single after all these years. “Why wouldn’t we have worked out?” He picked up a wooden spoon, pantomiming a circle. “Not that I’m stirring anything. I’m just curious. We had a lot of fun together and both like to cook.”

Abby’s hands went to her hips. “Well, for starters, there’s more to a relationship than those two things.”

Yeah, there was, but what? “So, you never thought about a future with me?”

Abby shrugged her shoulders. “Maybe . . . but . . .”

“I lived in Denver,” he finished her sentence.

“Yeah,” she said softly and busied herself collecting the dirty mixing bowls and utensils.

Donovan studied his ex, her silence speaking volumes. If they were meant to be, they could have worked the distance out. She could have moved to Denver after she graduated from college, but instead she broke it off. “It wasn’t the distance, was it?”

Abby moved across the kitchen, setting the bowls in the sink. “Truth?”

“Yes.” He cracked a smile. “Lay it on me.”

She spun around, leaning against the counter, but didn’t say a word.

Damn. What had he done all those years ago? He rewound his memory back to the time when they’d broken up. As far as he remembered, it hadn’t been drawn out or all that dramatic. If he recalled, it was a phone conversation where she’d told him she wanted to break up, and he’d agreed it was for the best. “Was it that bad?”

“No. Not really . . . but it had nothing to do with the distance.”

“It didn’t?”

“I would have gone to Denver if . . .”

“If what?” he demanded, finally after more than a decade of not giving their breakup much thought, he suddenly needed to know.

“It’s just I never thought I could be perfect enough for you.”

He shot an eyebrow up. “That’s why you broke up with me?”

“Yeah. I mean . . . You were Donovan Foster. This great chef prodigy who walked around this town like you were too good for it. You seemed to know all the ingredients you needed for a perfect life. I didn’t feel like I was one of them.”

“Seriously?” He flattened a palm over his forehead. He was far from perfect. What kind of vibe had he been giving off all those years ago? Was he still that way? “You thought I wanted perfection?”

“Pretty much, or I thought you had this fantasy of what a perfect life would be for you.” She came up and touched his shoulder. “It’s okay if you still haven’t found it.”

“Right,” he said, still hung up on what she’d revealed. He raked a hand through his hair and smiled. “For the record, Brandon’s one hell of a lucky man.”

“Aw . . . geez.” She removed her apron and hung it on a nearby rack. “You can be my apprentice anytime. I’ll show you the ropes.”

“Deal.” He laughed, suspecting she was talking more about relationships than cooking. He obviously could learn from Abby on how to treat—or not treat—a woman.

“I’ve got to go catch Brandon before he leaves for the store.” She rested a hand on her stomach. “Pregnancy pickle cravings.”

“Thanks for letting me help out.” He watched as she left the kitchen. What kind of jerk was he that his beyond perfect ex-girlfriend thought she couldn’t measure up? He was a bit particular in the kitchen, he knew that. Did it extend to his personal life? Was that why he was thirty-three and still alone?

His phone buzzed, and he looked down to see a short message from Will.

Dude, drop what you are doing and get to the Ice Heaven pronto.

His heart stopped. What was going down at the Ice Heaven? Was Zoe okay? Worried, he picked up his coat from where he’d draped it over a stool in the corner and slipped it on, rummaging for his car keys.

With a quick goodbye to Abby, he sped around the lake to Main Street, barely remembering the road’s twists and turns. In no time, he was parked in front of Zoe’s shop. He darted in, eager to see for himself that she was okay.

He stepped into the empty store, glancing around.

Strike that. The store was lacking customers, yes, but definitely not empty. Various sizes of brown boxes were scattered all over the main room on the floor, counters, and the few high-top tables she had. “Zoe,” he called out twice.

No answer.

Concern ran through him. Where was she? Was she hurt? He walked over to her kitchen door when it swung open, hitting him hard. He jolted back a couple of steps and lost his balance, smacking into the wall.

“Well, it’s about damn time,” was her only greeting. No “sorry for almost knocking the wind out of you.”

“Hi.” He steadied his feet. His breath was another matter as it caught at the sight of her, looking all sorts of cute casual in a long-sleeved white top, jeans, and brown boots, her hair swept up in a long ponytail. She must have been working on her frozen yogurt, evident from a couple of stains on her top.

Maybe he did require perfection because the woman he was now inches from possessed it, and it didn’t matter whether she was dressed down with frozen yogurt stains or walking toward him in a gorgeous wedding gown. “Um . . . Will said you . . . uh . . . needed me. I mean help . . . well, not really help. He told me to get down here . . .” Man, shut up. “Do you need my help?”

“I do.”

He laughed, remembering the mysterious card with the words “she does.”

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.” He looked around, scrubbing a hand over his jaw. “So, what do you need?”

Zoe’s arms went up, and she motioned all around her. “I need you to get all of these boxes out of my shop!”

Okay, not what he expected and a bit out of nowhere, but maybe she’d tried Will or someone else and he was her last option. He’d like to figure out a way to bump Will off her call list. “Where are they going?” he asked.

She looked mad. Her eyes narrowed while her lips pursed. Yep, that was definitely a scowl forming. Maybe he should start again. “What would you like me to do with these boxes?”

“I don’t know. Dump them into the lake for all I care.” She blew out a breath and sat down on a large box. “Did you really think that this was the way for me to agree to your zany Sweet Match Up proposition?”

Zany proposition. Obviously, she was talking about Saturday, but he was still missing a big part of this conversation. He came up and stood in front of her. “What would I be tossing into the lake?” He tapped his foot on her box. “There aren’t body parts in there, are there?”

She scoffed.

Okay, not a laugh but it was a start.

“No, it’s food. From Fresh Foods. I don’t have enough room in my kitchen for everything. I got as much as I could in my refrigerator and freezer, but I have no idea what to do with all these canned goods.” She sighed, reaching into the opened box next to her, pulling out a loaf of bread. She hoisted it up. “And this along with the twenty other loaves are going to go to waste.”

“Why did you order so much?”

Zoe jumped to her feet, and he instinctively stepped back.

“I didn’t order this!” Her long bangs fell into her face, and damn if he didn’t want to brush them aside and tell her everything was going to be okay. If he tried, she’d probably slap him. Better to curb that impulse. “So, there was a mix-up in orders?”

Zoe placed her hands on her hips, leveling him with a stare. “Donovan, I’m in no mood for games. Just admit that you placed the order in my name.”

Seriously? Why would she think that? “Zoe, I didn’t. I didn’t do this.”

“You didn’t?” she asked, but lines of clear doubt etched into her face. “You didn’t do this to force me to go into business with you?”

“No.” He let out a chuckle to lighten the moment. “Although, would it have worked?”

“No!”

“And that’s the answer I would have expected. I wouldn’t have wasted my money.”

“Then who did?” she asked, bending down to snatch a piece of paper and waving it in the air. “Because my name’s on this order, but I didn’t place it.”

Donovan took the paper from Zoe. Sure enough, the invoice for more than a thousand dollars worth of items was in her name. Who would mysteriously send Zoe a food order? He bent down and pulled the flaps of the nearest box back. It was filled with tomato sauce and paste. He couldn’t deny that they were perfect start-up items for a comfy foods menu. All he needed was some seasoning.

Seasoning. He let that word marinate for a second.

Oh, shit. Seasoning that he just so happened to have thanks to an antique purse.

He released the flaps and stood back up. It couldn’t be Mary’s doing.

Could it?

If it was the crazy lady of a ghost, he wasn’t ready to share that suspicion. Instead, he knelt back down and opened another box.

“What are you doing?”

“Inspecting the loot. Are all of these nonperishables?” He pointed to the loaf in her hand. “Except for the bread.”

“No. I was able to put most of the perishables in my refrigerator. But it’s packed, and I’ll need it for my frozen yogurt items. It may not look like much, but I do have a business that I need to keep running.”

“Right. Okay. Not too worry.” He grabbed the box of tomato sauce and paste and hoisted it up. “Get your coat.”

“Why?”

“We’re going next door to talk to Ralph to see if he can store some of this stuff in his kitchen, and then pay a visit to someone up the hill.”

“Who?”

“Someone who has some experience in mystery appearances.”