“Woo hoo Gemma girl, you sure look good in that dress.”

I felt the hand on my ass and turned quickly to swat it away. Old Forbes again, of course. That man had stickier fingers than the icing on a cinnamon bun.

“Now, Forbes, what have I told you about keeping your hands to yourself?” I stood there, hands on hips, looking down at him. He was seated at the long wooden table, wolfing down his second bowl of my chilli. Or had been, before seeing me.

Forbes grinned sheepishly. “Ah, Miss Gemma, you know I don’t mean no harm.”

I kept frowning, but I couldn’t help it. A smile broke through. These old timers really didn’t mean harm, they had just been brought up in a different time, and their habits were hard to break. I wouldn’t tolerate the same from the younger ones.

“Okay.” I pretended to cuff him. “Know better for next time.”

I walked back to the kitchen, ready to check on the apple pies in the oven.

It had certainly been a learning curve working at the ranch. I had had to dust off all the old favorite recipes that the ranch hands demanded. Mostly variations on steak…chicken fried steak, bison steak, beef steak, Rocky Mountain oysters. I didn’t mind, I loved all the old stuff just as much as they did. It was Mumma’s home cooking, pure and simple.

I had been trying to do something different at my bakery, though.

Maybe too different. The good folk of Clear Creek hadn’t appreciated my chouquettes and Portuguese tarts so much. They just liked their regular bakery fare. I had good business for a while when they were checking me out and because they were a loyal bunch, but it had bottomed out after only a year. I had to close a few days before Christmas. Not even the holiday rush could get me through.

It had been depressing. I had sulked for a while, then dusted myself off and started looking for other work. I had to look to the future. Old Mr Starling had heard I was looking, and offered me the chance to be head cook on his ranch.

It was a good job, great pay, nice lifestyle. But I hesitated.

I knew in my heart it was because of Lance.

I hadn’t seen him in years, not since Jack and I had broken up. And I hadn’t seen much of him prior, either. It was like he wanted to keep his distance, which hurt. It hurt like hell. Shoot, we had once been so close, we had almost…

I shook my head, trying not to burn myself on the pies as I got them out of the oven. I couldn’t afford to get distracted in the kitchen – I could lose a finger, scald myself, anything. You had to concentrate all the time when you were head cook.

“Jessie, could you start cutting these up?” I instructed to my assistant. The girl smiled, grabbing a knife and attacking the pies like they were about to leap up and bite her.

Pies out, I leaned against the kitchen bench, staring out at the three long wooden tables where the ranch hands were wolfing down their lunch. I liked it here, I really did. But Lance was coming home today, and I was nervous. I had managed to keep busy all morning, but the thought kept pushing its way to the top of my mind.

What would he be like? And would he tell me anything about what had happened to Jack?

I was over Jack, I really was. But I was still shocked and sad when I heard he had been killed. We had a long history. We were high school sweethearts. He had taken me to the prom. I had thought then that it was forever. You know, the white dress, the picket fence, two kids in the back of the pick-up. Sitting beside each other in the retirement home.

But Jack had changed. He started to get short with me, and irritated with my emails. When he was on his missions, it was the way we mostly communicated.

Then I heard the rumors, whispers at first, then stronger. Of how he would play around when he was on shore leave. Sometimes I only knew after the fact that he had been home at all.

I put two and two together. I mightn’t have been top of the class in math, but I could figure that out.

“Gemma?”

I swung around. Jessie was standing there, awaiting orders.

“Start bringing them out. I’ll get the other bowls.”

I walked out to the tables with my trolley, stacking the dirty dishes onto it and sharing a smile and a laugh with the men. But I did it with half a mind. The other half was thinking about him. Lance.

Butterflies started rearing up in my stomach. You are being stupid, I told myself. Lance doesn’t want anything to do with you anymore. He has made that clear. Just do your job, keep your head down, and keep out of his way.

Wheeling the trolley back into the kitchen, I started stacking the dishwashers. It was Jessie’s job, really, but I never wanted to play Big Boss.

Lunch over, I grabbed a bowl of chilli for myself and a cup of coffee, heading to the lookout over the mountains.

It was my favorite spot. White tipped mountains and eagles hovering high in the distance. I had to admit I loved being out here, on the vast land. The bakery in Clear Creek, nestled amongst the town gossips, had never felt as good.

I sipped my coffee, cursing slightly as the scalding liquid hit my lips.

He would be here in a couple of hours. I had to finish my lunch quickly, finish the cleaning and prep for tonight’s dinner, then vamoose. If I wanted to keep my job here, I knew I would run into him. But every fibre of my being was telling me to play it safe and run while I still could.

Lance. My first true love, before Jack. It was still a mystery to me how Jack had come between us, how Jack and I had become the item, not me and Lance. It had always been Lance, before that. Lance was the one that I dreamed of, Lance was my first kiss, Lance had been my first everything…

I shivered slightly. I could still feel the touch of his skin, and the feel of his lips.

He had become even more attractive after he joined the SEALs, his naturally athletic frame had just become more buff. He looked like a Greek god, for Christ’s sake. I tried not to look at him too much when I did occasionally see him, it was bittersweet. And I knew there couldn’t be anything between us, anymore, after Jack. The Bro code, and all that.

Shit. I shielded my eyes against the sun, looking down the track. Was that the sound of Betsy?

It was. I was trapped.

It pulled up. Hank emerging from the driver’s side.

Then slowly, slowly. A long leg climbed out of the passenger’s side, followed by another. His tawny hair, buzz cut to an inch of its life, sparkled in the sun.

His eyes found mine, those baby blues that had always left me breathless.

“Gemma.” He wasn’t smiling. “It’s been too long.”