It still wasn’t right.

Selena Tosca dipped a spoon into the stainless steel bowl of chocolate rum ganache, stirred it a few times to check the consistency, then took another taste. “Ugh.”

Not only was it not thickening up like it was supposed to, but the aftertaste, though subtle, wasn’t good.

What the heck is going on? The only thing she could think of was that it had something to do with the rum she’d used, because she’d made this particular recipe hundreds of times with the same brand of chocolate. The problem was, the client whose event she was catering wanted her to use a very specific rum for these truffles. One she’d never tried before.

Selena opened the unlabeled bottle (from an old family distillery, she’d been told) and smelled the amber liquid again. On its own, the rum looked and tasted fine, but something about it was making the chocolate taste...off. This was her third attempt too.

She dreaded the prospect of telling her best customer that she couldn’t accommodate this request. The woman was intense, to say the least. Not exactly the kind of person you wanted to have words with.

Selena chewed on her lip and tried to think of another way to use the mixture. Ice cream topping? Drizzled over petits fours? She sighed. No, Ms. Karza was adamant. She wanted enough to fill an entire table with these specific chocolate rum truffles.

Feeling a little lightheaded as she stepped away from the refrigerator, Selena leaned against the door frame to steady herself.

“You okay, hon?” Paula, her part-time employee, looked at her from across the tiny commercial kitchen, a concerned expression on her face as she expertly flipped the contents of a sauté pan. A small barrette sparkled in the woman’s short pink hair.

“I’m fine,” Selena said, straightening her spine. There was nothing she hated more than having people fuss and worry about her. At twenty-seven, having her father still doing it was bad enough, but then he’d probably never change. Her mother had died when she was little, so he’d always been very protective of her, but after the incident (as he liked to call it), he became even worse.

Paula frowned. “You sure?”

“Maybe I’ve sampled too much of this on an empty stomach.” She shook the bottle as if to prove her point.

In truth, she’d only had a few sips of the rum to assess how much she’d need to use in the recipe. The real problem was her failure to get a good night’s sleep lately. How many nights was it this time? Two? Three? She’d be in bed, staring at the ceiling for what felt like hours. And when she did sleep, it was filled with nightmares she could never quite remember, leaving her tired and with a dull headache the next day.

Paula folded her tattooed arms across her chest. “You were like this a few weeks ago too.”

Selena tried to shrug it off. “It’s just insomnia. It comes and goes.”

“Maybe you should go to a sleep lab.”

Selena shivered, imagining being hooked up to machines and trying to sleep while people watched her. It reminded her too much of her hospital stay. “No, thank you.”

“Why don’t you go in the back room and lie down,” Paula said. “I can handle things out here.”

Selena considered the offer. Unfortunately, Paula wasn’t exactly the most reliable person. Often her boyfriend would call, saying he wanted to catch a band playing in Vancouver, and suddenly she’d be skipping out of work and taking the ferry to the mainland.

“Thanks, but I’ve got to figure out what I’m going to do about the truffles. I need to bring the samples to Ms. Karza’s office tonight for their event next week.”

Paula wasn’t having any of it. “You’ve been catering her events for how long now and she still doesn’t trust your judgment enough not to have to sample every little thing? What a total B.”

“She’s a control freak, I guess.” But then you didn’t become the head of a research facility, if you weren’t paying attention to the details.

The woman was intimidating as hell with her piercing blue eyes, those crisp white pantsuits she always wore, and the slow, guarded way in which she spoke. She was Tosca Catering’s main customer right now. The need for catering was very seasonal in Agate’s Cove. Selena would have had to close during the offseason otherwise. A few birthday cakes a month didn’t quite cut it.

Selena made the ganache again using just a splash of the client’s rum mixed with her usual brand, and this time it worked. The mixture set up like it was supposed to and the aftertaste was much better. She just hoped it would be acceptable to the client. After samples of the rest of the food had been prepared, Paula told her to go into the back room and put up her feet.

“You look like death.”

“Gee thanks.”

She continued to protest, but Paula insisted. “Go. I’ll decorate the truffles. I can even deliver these samples, if you like.”

Selena yawned. “No, that’s okay. I can do it, but I do think I’ll lie down and close my eyes for a few minutes.”

When she stretched out her legs on the threadbare couch, she was glad Paula had suggested this. It really did feel good.

After what felt like a short time later, Selena opened her eyes to a darkened room. She yawned and leisurely stretched her arms over her head. Had she actually fallen asleep? When she grabbed her phone and checked the time, she nearly had kittens.

Six thirty! No way! She needed to be at Ms. Karza’s office by seven, which was a good fifteen- to twenty-minute drive along the coast. Why hadn’t Paula woken her up? Oh my God, this was just like her, too. Sweet as can be, but so unreliable.

Selena dashed from the back room, planning to throw the food samples together and hoping Paula had at least finished decorating the truffles like she’d said she would, when oomph, she ran headlong into someone who definitely wasn’t Paula.

Strong hands cupped her elbows, setting her back on her feet, and a deep, masculine voice chuckled from above. “Hello, Selena.”

That voice. It was…eerily familiar. She cranked her head up and nearly choked.

Staring down at her was Mateo Carrera. The devastatingly handsome Mateo Carrera. With dreamy grey-blue eyes, a killer body, and raven, chin-length hair tucked behind one ear.

The man she’d once loved. The man she’d dreamed of marrying.

The man who broke her heart.