“Looks like you need help,” said a rumbling baritone from behind her.

Could the morning get any worse?

“Oh no, I’m fine,” Ava said.

“Fine, huh? Aren’t those your car keys inside the car?”

“I believe so.”

Brice studied her for a moment. “Hey, it’s no big deal. This kind of thing happens, right?” Tender feelings came to life and he couldn’t seem to stop them. Maybe Ava’s keys getting locked inside the car was providential. Just like the fact that he was here to help at just the right moment.

“Let me help. It’ll just take a minute, and then you can be on your way,” he added.

Why was her every sense attuned to this man? Ava felt his presence like the bright radiant sun on her back, almost as if she was interested in him. But of course, she couldn’t be. And she especially couldn’t be falling in love with Brice Donovan.

JILLIAN HART

makes her home in Washington State, where she has lived most of her life. When Jillian is not hard at work on her next story, she loves to read, go to lunch with her friends and spend quiet evenings with her family.

Every Kind of Heaven
Jillian Hart

www.millsandboon.co.uk

I consider that our present sufferings

are not worth comparing with the glory

that will be revealed in us.

—Romans 8:18

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue

Letter to Reader

Questions for Discussion

Chapter One

Baker Ava McKaslin stopped humming as she stepped back from the worktable to inspect the wedding cake. Her footsteps echoed in the industrial kitchen, nearly empty except for a few basics—the sink, countertops and the few pieces of equipment she’d managed to buy off the previous tenant. They’d considered it too cumbersome and expensive to move the industrial oven and fridge, which was just her luck.

She might not have the bakery of her dreams yet, God willing, but it was a start. Besides, her cake was spectacular, if she did say so herself.

But what was with all the silence? She cut a look to the long stretch of metal counter behind her. The CD had come to an end. She’d probably forgotten to hit Repeat again. Okay, she forgot most things most of the time. Since her hands were all frosting coated, she hit the Play button with her elbow. The first beats of percussion got her right back into the creative mode. Although some people found it hard to think with bass blasting from her portable boom box, she thought it helped her brain cells to fire…or synapse…or do whatever brain cells did.

As the Christian music pulsed with an upbeat rhythm, she went back to work on the top tier. The delicate scrollwork took patience, not to mention stamina. Her wrist and arms were killing her, since she’d been at this for six hours straight. Ah, the price of being a baker. She ignored the burn in her exhausted muscles. Pain, that didn’t matter. What mattered was not failing.

Before she’d bought this place, she’d been unofficially in business by using her oldest sister Katherine’s snazzy kitchen off and on for a few months. This was her very first wedding cake in her own bakery. How great was that? And it was actually going well—a total shocker. So far there were no disasters. No kitchen fires. No last-minute cancellation of the wedding. It was almost as if this business venture of hers was meant to be.

Maybe she hadn’t made a disastrous mistake by jumping into this entrepreneurial thing with both feet. And, best of all, the remodeling contractor would start work soon transforming this drab commercial space into a cheerful bakery shop in less than a couple of weeks. That was another reason why she was in such a great mood.

“Hello?” a man’s voice—a stranger’s voice—yelled over the booming music.

She screamed. The spatula slipped from her grip. What was a man doing in her kitchen? A man she’d never seen before. Her brain scrambled and her body refused to move. She could only gape at him in wide-eyed horror.

Oh, no. What if he was the backdoor burglar? The thief that had been breaking into the back doors of restaurants and assaulting and stealing? What if this dude was him?

It would be smart to call 9-1-1, but she had no idea where her cell was. There was no business phone installed yet. Even if she did have her cell or a working landline, it wouldn’t matter since she was paralyzed in place.

“Uh…uh…” That was the best speech she could manage? Get it together, Ava. You’re about to be robbed. “I’ve seen your face, so I can identify you in a lineup.”

The burglar stared at her. Wow, he was really handsome. And he looked startled. His strong, chiseled jaw was clenched tight in, perhaps, fury and his striking dark eyes glittered with viciousness…or maybe that was humor. The left corner of his mouth quirked up as if he were holding back a grin.

Great, she had to get an easily amused thief.

“I’ve got two bucks in my purse. That’s it, buddy. There’s not another cent on the premises. You’ve picked the wrong place to rob. So t-t-turn around r-right now and go away. Go on. Shoo.”

There, that ought to scare him off or confuse him. She really didn’t care which. Adrenaline—or maybe it was terror—started to spill like ice into her veins.

“Go ahead, call the cops.” He called her bluff, crossing his arms over his wide chest. He had the audacity to lean one big shoulder against the doorframe, as if he had all the time in the world. He looked more like a movie star than a criminal. “Explain to the police how you left the front door unlocked.”

“No, I—” Wait, she did forget to lock stuff. And if he’d come in the front door, then he wasn’t the backdoor thief. Maybe. Unless he’d changed his M.O. and was that very likely? She didn’t think so. “I did leave the door unlocked, didn’t I?”

“Anyone could walk right in. Even the backdoor burglar. That’s who you thought I was, right?”

Okay, her mind was starting to unscramble. He didn’t look like any criminal she’d seen on TV. To make matters worse, he looked better than any man she’d seen on TV. He was handsome to a fault. His thick black hair fell with disregard for convention over his collar. He wore a short-sleeve polo shirt—black—with the little expensive insignia. His clothes—including his baggy khaki shorts and exclusive manly leather sandals—were top of the line. Expensive.

It was likely that the backdoor thief didn’t dress like that or have such a perfect smile. She hit Pause on the boom box. “Okay, I feel dumb now. What were you doing surprising me like that? You just can’t go walking into any place you want.”

“I’m looking for you, Ava McKaslin.” His grin broadened enough to show off a double set of dimples.

Oops. This must be about business, and mistaking a potential customer for a burglar was so not professional. “You’ve come with a cake order, haven’t you, and after meeting me, you’ve changed your mind.”

“No, but it’s tempting.” The sets of dimples dug deeper as his grin widened. “I’ve been sent to check on the cake.”

“Chloe’s cake?” Oh, no. That can’t be good. Suddenly her great mood tumbled. “Has she called off her wedding?”

“Nope.”

“Changed her mind and eloped?”

“Not to my knowledge.”

“Has she gone with another baker and forgot to tell me? Has she postponed the wedding?”

“Let me guess. You’re more of a glass-is-half-empty kind of girl, aren’t you?”

“Hey, disasters happen. I’m a realist.”

Ava knelt to retrieve the spatula. She tossed it into the sink and washed her hands, turning her back to the guy. He wasn’t a burglar. She’d leapt to a wrong conclusion, but his being a thief might be better because he’d come with bad news. She knew, although he had yet to admit it, that he’d come to cancel the first cake she’d made in her bakery.

Total doom.

She grabbed a paper towel to dry her hands. “Tell Chloe I appreciate that she went with me, even if it didn’t work out. Is she all right?”

“I hope so, since she’s getting married tomorrow.”

“The wedding’s still on?”

“Sure it is.”

She was as cute as he remembered. Brice Donovan took a step closer, trying to act like he wasn’t stunned. He’d never met any woman who looked so funny and gorgeous all in the same moment. It was the eyes. Those big violet-blue eyes filled with one hundred percent vibrant emotion. They radiated such heart and spirit that he was sucked right in, like being caught in the vortex of a black hole.

It ought to be terrifying, but he didn’t mind it so much. He was glad to see her again. She didn’t seem to remember seeing him at Chloe’s wedding shower, considering she’d mistaken him for a burglar. But he sure remembered her. How could he not? She was unforgettable.

And absolutely adorable. Not that he could see much of her; she was standing behind the most unusual cake he’d ever seen. One large heart-shaped layer was stacked off-center on another, and another over that. Satin-textured, smooth ivory frosting adorned with amazing gold lace and ribbons of some kind of frosting, and colorful sugar flowers everywhere.

Unlike her cake, the designer wasn’t as perfectly arranged. She had globs of icing all over her. A streak on her cheek, a dried crown of it in her light blond hair, which was neatly tied back, and a blob just above the tip of her cute little nose.

When he’d agreed to check on the cake’s progress for his sister, he’d thought the address was familiar. He knew why the instant he’d pulled into the lot. His construction company had won the bid for renovation—starting next week. The moment he’d spotted the shop’s proprietor hard at work, he’d known why Chloe had sent him. She was meddlesome, but then a guy had to tolerate that from his baby sister. Not that he wasn’t grateful.

Over the past year, he’d noticed Ava McKaslin around town a couple of times. They didn’t belong to the same social circle or church, and didn’t live in the same parts of town, so he’d never had an opportunity to talk to her before. There was something about her that always made him smile. Just like he was doing now.

“I’ve been sent to make sure the cake is on schedule.” He stalked forward, wanting to get closer to that smile of hers. “It looks on schedule to me.”

“I’ll need thirty minutes tops, and then it’s done. Chloe doesn’t have to worry about a thing. I’ll deliver it bright and early at the country club, just as I promised, no sweat.”

“She’ll be thrilled.” He splayed both hands on the table and leaned toward her, drawn by those eyes, by everything.

Up close, there was nothing artificial about her. She was radiant. She had a fresh-faced complexion and dazzling beauty, sure, but she was unique. She was like the light refracting off a flawless diamond. Hers was a brilliance that was impossible to touch or to capture.

He’d really like to get to know her. “You said you’ve got thirty minutes until you’re done?”

“I promise. You and Chloe have nothing to worry about. Your wedding cake will be perfect.” Ava crossed her heart like a girl scout, as cute as a button.

Captivated, Brice felt blinded in a way he’d never been before. He definitely would like to see what this violet-eyed, flawless Ava was really like. He took in the little gold cross at her throat and the sweet way she looked. What was such a good, amazing woman doing single?

She scooped a short spatula into a stainless steel bowl, fluffy with snow-white frosting. “Did you want to come back when I’m done?”

“I’d rather stay, if you don’t mind.”

“Stay? You don’t want to do that. You’d be bored.”

“I doubt that. I could watch you work. I’ve never seen anything like this. It’s beautiful, the work you do.” He took a breath. Gathered his courage. “If you don’t mind, when you’re done, we could talk, just you and me.”

Ava stared over the top frills of the cake. She blinked hard, as if she were trying to bring him into focus. Or make sense of what he was saying. “Talk?”

“Sure. We’ve met before, don’t you remember? Maybe we can go down the street for a cup of coffee. Get to know each other better.”

“What?” The spatula dropped from her supple artist’s fingers and clattered on the metal tabletop. “You want to get to know me better?”

Uh-oh. She didn’t look happy about that. He’d never had that reaction from a woman before. Okay, maybe he’d jumped the gun. “Do you have a boyfriend? I should have asked first. I noticed you weren’t wearing a wedding ring and I assumed—”

She cut him off, circling around the table like a five-star army general. “You assumed? What’s wrong with you?”

He couldn’t believe how mad she looked. “Hey, what did I do? I just wanted to talk.”

“Talk? Oh, is that what men like you call it? You need to get some morals.”

Well, at least she was a lady with serious principles. He liked that. He respected Ava’s inner fiber. It was a little passionate, but he liked that, too. He held up both hands, a show of surrender. “Hey, I didn’t know you were attached. Why wouldn’t you be? Look at you. Of course you have a boyfriend. He probably worships at your feet.”

“No I don’t have a boyfriend, but what about you and Chloe? You’re getting married! You should leave. Go.”

Normally, he might take offense at her dismissal, but he didn’t seem to mind.

No boyfriend, huh? Okay, call him interested. No, call him dazzled, that’s what he was. She fascinated him, all pure inner fire and feeling. But this wasn’t going well. Usually he got a better response than this.

“What am I going to have to tell your bride?” Her sweetheart-shaped face turned pink with fury. “The poor woman thinks she’s getting married to Mr. Right. Little does she know you’re Mr. Yuck, wanting to get to know me the evening before your wedding. I don’t think you want to chat, either!”

So, that was it. Whew. For a minute there, he was afraid she really didn’t like him. “You misunderstood.”

“Misunderstood? Oh, I don’t think so.”

Men, Ava fumed. What was wrong with the species? This was why she wasn’t married. Too many of the gender were just like this guy, and nothing made her madder. Spitting mad. “I’m a good Christian girl. Get a clue, buddy. Are you misunderstanding me now?”

“Uh, no. I noticed the gold cross. You look like a very nice Christian girl to me.”

He was being agreeable now, but it didn’t matter. “Poor Chloe. Now what do I do? Do I tell her? Or do I make you do it? A man like you doesn’t deserve a nice wife like her. What kind of man would do that to the woman he was about to marry?”

He chuckled. Actually chuckled, the sound rich as cream. His dimples deepened. Tiny, attractive laugh lines crinkled around his kind, warm brown eyes.

That was the problem. He didn’t look like a cheater. He looked like a nice guy. What did a girl do in a world where icky men could look as good as the nice ones?

She’d had this problem before. This is why she had a newly instated policy of staying away from every last one of them, unless they needed to buy a cake from her, of course. She intended to stick to her current no-man policy one hundred percent. “This is the last time I’m telling you to leave.”

“Okay, stand down soldier.” He held up both hands as if he were surrendering. “I’ll go. But please accept my apology. I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Obviously you weren’t thinking at all. Or you thought that I looked easy, and let me tell you, you couldn’t be more wrong.”

“Ava McKaslin, you look like class to me. I can’t help noticing that you aren’t happy with my interest.”

“You got that right. Hey! You’re not heading toward the door.”

“We’re not done discussing the cake.” He had the audacity to grin again.

That grin became more charming each time he used it, Ava thought, making him look like the absolute perfect guy.

She’d been fooled by dimples and charm too many times before. “The cake will be ready and delivered at the country club’s service entrance by nine tomorrow morning, as agreed. There. Discussion done.”

“Chloe will be relieved. You aren’t going to mention this little misunderstanding to her, right?”

Didn’t that take the prize? “I don’t know. I may have to consult my sisters and my minister on this one. She should know the kind of man she’s marrying.”

“I’m not the groom.”

“Oh, sure you’re not.” Ava rolled her eyes. Some men would resort to anything. Men like him had made her give up dating. Perhaps forever. Good thing she’d vowed to turn all her energy to making a success of her business, because it would be impossible to make marriage work considering the men running around these days.

She reloaded her spatula with frosting. “You’re not gone yet.”

He sighed, resigned as he backed through the kitchen doorway. “I guess I’ll see you at the wedding, huh?”

“Not if I can help it.” Really, what gave this guy the idea that she was interested? “I’d better follow you to the door to make sure you really leave. Then I’m going to lock it, so no more riffraff can get in.”

“At least I’m not the backdoor burglar, or you would have really been in trouble. That spatula loaded with frosting wouldn’t be much of a weapon against a revolver.” He paused in the front door, framed by the brilliant June sunshine. His grin went cosmic. “By the way, you have frosting on your nose. It’s cute. Real cute.”

“You’re not so attractive, Mr. Yuck.”

“Ava, listen. I’m not the groom. When you deliver the cake, stick around for the wedding. You’ll see I’m the best man. So, how about it?”

She grabbed his arm and gave him a shove. It was impossible not to notice he felt like solid steel. Once he’d rocked backwards a step, she was able to slam the door. Not that he was harmful, she thought as she threw the deadbolt, but she’d had enough of not-so-stellar men.

So why did she gravitate to the front windows that gave her a perfect view of the parking lot?

Because she wanted to make sure he left, the horrible man, trying to pick up a woman on the night before his wedding. Despicable.

It was hard to believe a human being was capable of behaving so badly, but she’d been propositioned like that before. Three wedding cakes ago. Darrin Fullerton had thought that when she delivered the two-tier caramel coconut cake that she was ready to serve up something else, too. It still shocked her. Too many men needed to spend more time reading their Bibles. Filling their minds with uplifting and spiritual subjects. Learning to recite the Psalms. List the seven deadly sins. That kind of thing.

The groom climbed into a bright red luxury sports car—not surprising—and zipped away. As he passed by the shop’s glassed front, his driver’s side window whipped down and he lifted his designer aviator sunglasses to give her a wink.

Horrible. Anger turned her vision to pure crimson. Seconds passed until she could see normally again. The parking lot was empty, the red sports car long gone.

Her cell phone chimed. The cheerful jingle came from very near. She looked down and found it in her apron pocket. The display said it was her twin sister, Aubrey. “Howdy.”

“I’m just pulling up into the lot. I can see your frowny face from here.”

“I have more than a frowny face on. It’s my down-on-men face.”

“Wow. What happened?”

“Oh, another groom trying to get one last party in before he commits.” Ava spotted her bright yellow SUV cautiously creeping across the empty lot. Her sister had borrowed it and was coming closer. “What is it with men and commitment? I don’t get why it’s so terrifying. It’s not any more frightening than a lot of things. Like premature baldness.”

“Crow’s feet.”

“New car payments. Now that’s scary. Which is why I’m glad I’ve given up on dating. Who cares if I ever get married?”

“You do.”

“Too true.” Ava sighed. “I’ve got a few more minutes to finish up, and then I’m good to go.”

Aubrey brought the vehicle to a slow stop at the curb outside the window. She leaned forward, squinting through the windshield. “You brought a change of clothes, right? Or are you going to the movies like that?”

“I knew I forgot something.” Ava snapped the phone shut. Who needed a man when she had enough disaster in her life?

Too bad the kind of man she needed—perfect in every way, no selfishness, no flaws or questionable morals—didn’t exist.

So what was a nice girl to do? Settle for Mr. So-So or Marginally Moral? As if!

Ava unlocked the door for Aubrey and went back to work. There was the wedding cake in all its loveliness, fresh and beautiful like the new promise a wedding should be. But would she ever know what that new promising love felt like? No.

Disappointed, she grabbed a clean spatula from the drawer by the sink and went back to work, making sugar roses. Trying not to dwell on the sadness that was buried so deep inside she could almost pretend it didn’t exist. She didn’t want to live her life without knowing true love.

But with the men she kept running into, she had no other choice.

Chapter Two

The next morning, Brice pulled into the country club’s parking lot and killed the engine. It was 8:53 a.m. Hadn’t Ava promised the cake would be delivered by nine?

He climbed out into the hot sunshine, made hotter by the monkey suit he had to wear. He hooked a finger beneath his tie and tugged until he had a little more breathing room. After remoting the door locks, he hadn’t gone five steps before his cell rang. He thumbed it from his pocket. Seeing his sister’s number on the call screen made his step lighter. “Having cold feet yet?”

“No way. I can’t wait to get married. I don’t have a single doubt. Where are you?”

“Where do you think?”

“Ha! You’re up to something. You’re not answering me.” She sounded happy, her voice light and easy.

Brice was glad for his little sister. He wouldn’t mind having that kind of happiness in his life. He checked his Rolex. Another minute had ticked by. He shouldered through the club’s main door. “Where I am is none of your business. Is Mom giving you problems?”

“When isn’t she giving me problems? She means well. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself so I don’t flip out. She’s made two of my bridesmaids cry. She’s decided the wedding planner isn’t capable and is trying to take over.”

“Do you need me to come run interference?”

“Do you know what I need you to do?” Chloe sounded as if she was very glad he’d asked. “I’d love it if you could swing by the club and check on the cake.”

I know what you’re up to little sister, he thought. But he didn’t mind. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking of Ava since he’d left her shop yesterday.

It ate at him that she thought he was the groom. She was right—from her mistaken perspective he did look like a Mr. Yuck. Now, that was a misperception he had to change, even if he had to show her two forms of ID to do it.

Because he didn’t want to encourage his sister, he tried to sound indifferent. Not at all interested. “Tell me what you know about this baker you went with.”

“Ha! You like her. I know you do.”

“I don’t know her.” Yet. But he intended to change that.

As he began looking around the room, he spotted her through the closed French doors into the ballroom and he froze in place. Ava. Seeing her was like the first light of dawn rising, and that was something he’d never felt before. Ever.

“I met Ava when we were volunteering at the community church’s shelter kitchen.” Chloe sounded very far away, although the cell connection was crystal clear. “She’s sweet and kind and hysterical. We had a great time, until they asked her to leave.”

What had she said? Brice’s mind was spinning. He couldn’t seem to focus. All he could think of was Ava. Her thick, shiny hair was tied up into a haphazard ponytail, bouncing in time with her movements. She was busily going over the cake, checking each colorful flower and sparkling golden accent.

She hadn’t noticed him yet and seemed lost in her own world. She had a set of ear buds in, probably listening to a pocket-sized digital music player. She wore jeans and a yellow T-shirt that said on the back “Every Kind of Heaven” in white script.

Was the saying true? It had to be. She did look like everything sweet and good in the world.

“Brice? Are you listening to me?”

He felt dazed, as if he’d been run over by a bus. He couldn’t orient himself in place and time. Any minute Ava would look up, and when she saw him, she’d leap to the same conclusion as before—that he was Mr. Yuck. If he didn’t act quickly, would she start lobbing frosting at him?

He’d never quite had that affect on a woman before.

“Look, Chloe. I gotta go. Call if you need anything, okay?”

“Sure. You’ll make sure Ava doesn’t need any help, right? She’s just starting her business and she hasn’t hired anyone yet. She’ll need some assistance with all the favors we ordered. Remember, if you change your mind and decide to bring a date to my wedding, feel free.”

“Sure. Right,” he said vaguely.

Ava. He was having the toughest time concentrating on anything else. His thoughts kept drifting to the woman on the other side of the door.

When he opened it, he heard a lightly muttered, “Oops!”

Ava’s voice made his senses spin.

Think, Brice. He clicked off his phone and stepped into the ballroom.

Morning light spilled through the long row of closed French doors and onto her. She looked tinier than he remembered. Maybe it was that she had such a big personality that she gave the impression of stature. She was surprisingly petite with slender lines and almost skinny arms and legs. There was no one else helping. How she’d delivered that big cake by herself was a mystery. It had to be heavy.

He knew the moment she sensed his presence. The line of her slender shoulders stiffened. Every muscle went completely rigid. She pulled the ear buds out of her ears, turning toward him in one swift movement.

“You.” If looks could kill, he’d at least be bleeding. “What are you doing here? You’re just like Darrin Fullerton. He showed up when I was delivering the cake to beg me not to say anything to his bride. He’d been drunk, he’d said, and didn’t know what he was doing when he propositioned me. As if that’s any excuse!”

Quick, Brice, look innocent. He held up both hands in surrender. “Wait. I’m nothing like that Fullerton guy. I’m a completely innocent best man. Really.”

“Innocent? I don’t think so.”

Ava gave him her best squinty-eyed look. He was bigger than she remembered, a good six feet tall. When she’d shoved him out the door of her bakery, it had been like trying to move a bulldozer.

She went up on tiptoe so she could glare at him directly, not exactly eye to eye, but it was the best she could manage, being so short. “Are you ashamed of yourself? At all?”

He didn’t look unashamed. “Chloe’s going to love that cake. You did an amazing job.”

“Now if only I can control the urge to lob the top tier at you.”

“Do you think you can restrain that urge for a few seconds? I’ve got something to show you.” He reached into his back pocket.

Men were much more trouble than they were worth, she concluded. But why did he have to have such an amazing grin? That’s probably what Chloe saw in him; it obviously blinded her to all his multitude of faults. Poor Chloe. “You should be getting ready for your wedding, but what are you doing? Trying to get me not to tell—”

He flashed a card at her. “This ought to clear up the confusion.”

“I’m not the one who’s confused. You owe me an apology and your bride an enormous apology and—”

He waved the card in front of her. “Look closer.”

She squinted to bring the card into focus. Not a card. It was a driver’s license. Some of her fury sagged as she realized the picture, which was, of course, perfect, matched the man standing before her. The name to the left of the photo was Brice Donovan.

What? Her mind screeched to a sudden halt. She sank back onto her heels, staring, feeling her jaw drop. Brice Donovan. Chloe Donovan’s brother. Not the groom.

“I’m the best man,” he said, wagging the card. “Do you finally believe me?”

His eyes darkened with amusement, but they weren’t unkind. No, not at all. A strong warmth radiated from him as he leaned close, and then closer.

That thought spun around in her brain for a moment, like a car’s engine stuck in neutral. Then it hit her. She’d insulted, yelled at and accused a perfectly innocent man.

It was hard to know just what to say. Talk about being embarrassed. Had she really said all those things to him? She felt faint. Wasn’t he on the city’s most eligible bachelor’s list? It was just in last weekend’s paper. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t recognized him.

Why did these things always happen to her? She clipped her case closed. He was probably waiting for an apology. An apology for the accusations. The fact that she’d been beyond rude to him, one of the wealthiest men from one of the most prominent families in Montana.

Lovely. Her face heated from the humiliation starting to seep into her soul. “Oops. My bad.”

“You think?” He crooked one brow, amusement softening the impressive impact of all iron-solid six feet of him.

The effect was scrambling her brain cells, and that wasn’t helping her to think.

“Chloe’s going to really love what you’ve done with this cake.” He jammed his hands into his pockets, looking like a cover model come to life. “It’s going to make her so happy. Thank you.”

Now what did she say? She’d been awful to him and he was complimenting the cake she’d worked so hard on. It made her feel even worse. “I’m trying to figure out how to apologize, but sorry seems like too small a word.”

“Don’t even worry about it.”

“Thanks,” she said shyly.

Brice Donovan’s smile made her even more muddled. Before he’d walked into the ballroom she’d been so happy, thinking how pleased Chloe was going to be. But now? Her heart twisted with agony. Her face was so hot and red from embarrassment, she could feel her skin glow. What she could see of her nose was as bright as a strawberry.

This was no way for a professional baker to behave. Feeling two inches tall, she looked up to Brice’s kind eyes. He wasn’t laughing at her. No. That was one saving grace, right?

“I am sorry. Really. Tell Chloe best wishes. This cake is my gift to her.”

“But she hired you to bake it.”

“So she thinks. I’ve got to go, I have another project to work on, but this, the groom’s cake and the favors, it’s all from me to her. She was a good friend to me when I really needed one.” Her chest felt so tight, she felt ready to burst. Embarrassment had turned into a horrible, sharp pain right behind her sternum.

Doom. She’d just made a mess of this. Would there ever be one time—just once—when she didn’t make a mess of something? There was no way to fix this, and the cake was finished. There was nothing else to do but grab her case and her baseball cap.

Somehow she managed to speak without strangling on her embarrassment. “Goodbye, Mr. Donovan. And I am s-sorry again.”

“Wait, don’t go yet, I—”

“I have to.” She was already walking away. She had work waiting and she couldn’t face him a second longer. She’d humiliated herself enough for one day and it was only 9:15 a.m. She hadn’t even had breakfast yet. Way to go, Ava.

She wasn’t aware of crossing the room, only that she was suddenly at the kitchen. But she was aware of him. Of his presence behind her in the spill of light through the expansive windows. She didn’t have to look at him as she pushed through the kitchen door to know that he was watching her. She could feel the tangible weight of his touch between her shoulder blades. What was he thinking?

Lord, I don’t want to know. She kept going. She hit the back service doors and didn’t slow until she felt the soothing morning sun on her face.

She skidded to a stop in the gravel and breathed in the fresh morning air. The scents of warm earth and freshly mowed grass calmed her a little. She breathed hard, getting out all the negative feelings. There were a lot of them. And trying not to hear her mother’s voice saying, You wreck everything you touch. Can’t you stop making a mess for two seconds?

She’d been seven, and she could still hear the shrill impatience. She still felt like that little girl who just didn’t know how things went wrong no matter how hard she tried.

You’re just a big dope, Ava, she told herself. What kind of grown adult had the problems she had? Wasn’t she going to turn over a new leaf? Start out right this time? Stop making so many dumb mistakes?

Well, no more. She wasn’t going to think about the way she’d embarrassed herself back there. She’d been hoping that by doing a good job with Chloe’s cake, she’d get some word-of-mouth interest and her business would naturally pick up.

But after this, what were the chances that anyone was going to remember what the cake looked like?

None. All Brice Donovan was going to do was to talk about the dingbat cake lady who mistook him—the city of Bozeman’s golden boy—for a philandering groom.

Her SUV blurred into one bright yellow blob. She blinked hard until her eyes cleared and reached into her pocket for her keys.

The only thing she could do was go on from here. Simply write off this morning as a lesson learned. What else could she do? She reached into her other pocket, but it was empty. No, it couldn’t be. Her heart jack hammered. Where were her keys?

She did another search of her pockets. Jeans front pockets. No key. Back pockets. No key. Those were the only pockets she had. Panic began to stutter in her chest. Where were her keys?

There. Sitting right in plain view on the rear passenger seat. Inside the locked vehicle. Right next to her cell phone and her sunglasses.

Super-duper. What did she do now?

“Looks like you need help,” said a rumbling baritone from behind her. A baritone she recognized. Brice Donovan.

Could the morning get any worse? How was she going to save her dignity now—or what was left of it? “H-help? Oh, no, I’m fine.”

“Fine, huh? Aren’t those your car keys inside the car?”

“I believe so.”

“I don’t know too many people who can actually lock their keys in the car with a remote. Don’t you need the remote to lock the door?”

“Yes.” She plopped her baseball cap on her head and pulled the bill low, trying to hide what she could of her face. Her nose was bright red again.

Brice studied her for a moment before realization dawned. Oh, he knew why she was acting this way, shuffling away from him, head down, avoiding his gaze. She was embarrassed. Well, she didn’t need to be. “Hey, it’s no big deal. This kind of thing happens, right?”

The tension eased from her tight jaw and rigid shoulders. She shrugged helplessly. “I’ve only had this car for a few months and I haven’t figured out all the settings yet. It’s too technologically advanced for me.”

“I doubt that.” Tender feelings came to life and he couldn’t seem to stop them. Maybe her keys getting locked inside the car was providential. Just like the fact that he was here to help at just the right moment. “I have a knack for this kind of thing.”

“Thanks, but please don’t bother.”

She still wouldn’t look at him. Instead, she stared hard at the toes of her sunshine-yellow sneakers. Yellow, just like her SUV. There was nothing mundane about Ava McKaslin.

He liked that. Very much.

She surprised him by sidestepping away, heading back to the service doors.

“Hey, where are you going?”

“To find a phone.”

“To call…?”

“My sister to come with the extra set of keys.”

Wow. She really didn’t want his help. Getting a woman to like him used to be easier than this, although he had been out of the dating circuit for a long time. After all, he’d dated Whitney two years before he’d proposed to her, which had turned out to be a much longer engagement period than either of them had expected. That put him nearly four, no, almost five years out of practice.

But still, he just didn’t remember it being so difficult. “Your sister doesn’t need to go to the trouble of driving out here. I’ll break in for you.”

She paused midstride.

He could sense her indecision, so he tried again. “Let me help. It’ll take a minute and then you can be on your way.”

“But I was so rude to you.”

“So? If you’re worried about retaliation, forget it. I’m a turn-the-other-cheek kind of guy. And I won’t leave a scratch on your new car. Promise.”

“And just why does a man like you know how to break into a car without leaving any evidence?”

“Chloe used to lock herself out of her car, too. I need a coat hanger. I’ll be right back.” He shouldered past her, pausing at the base of the concrete steps.

Why was her every sense attuned to this man? She felt Brice’s presence like the bright radiant sun on her back, almost as if she was interested in him, but, of course, she couldn’t be. She was done with thinking about any guy, and done with dreams of falling in love.

She was done with dreams like Brice Donovan.

Chapter Three

“Mission accomplished. No trouble at all.”

His voice moved through Ava like a warm breeze. She turned toward him as her car’s alarm went off. While the vehicle honked and the headlights flashed, he calmly opened the back door, grabbed the key ring with the remote and pressed the button. The horn silenced, the headlights died.

For him, it had been simple. But for her? She’d had to stand here and watch him, knowing he was helping her out of sympathy. Because he’d felt pity for his little sister’s friend.

She would rather fall through a big black hole in the ground than to have to look Brice Donovan in the eye one more time. Sure, he was being gallant and incredibly nice, but it wasn’t as if she could erase the things she’d said to him. She heard all the adjectives she’d called him roll around in her head. Mr. Yuck. Riffraff. She’d told him to get some morals. How could she have not recognized him? How could she have made such a mistake?

“All done. And without any damage, thanks to the caterer.” He finished bending a wire hanger back into place, but his gaze seared her from six feet away. “Lucky for us she had this in her van.”

“Yep, lucky for us.” But she didn’t feel fortunate. Her nose was still strawberry red, but now it felt hot, too, as if it were glowing under its own energy source.

He opened her driver’s side door, looking every inch the handsome millionaire in the designer tux he wore, which fit him like a vision. Of course. He appeared every inch the proverbial prince. And suddenly she knew how Cinderella felt in her ragged dress, wishing she could put on a fancy dress and change her circumstances.

“Here are your keys.” They rested on his wide, capable palm.

She couldn’t help but notice how strong his hand was. Calluses roughened his skin, as if he worked hard for a living. But that couldn’t be. Wasn’t he a trust fund kind of guy?

“Thanks, again.”

It took all her willpower to meet his gaze. His eyes were so kind and tender. Clearly, he wasn’t holding the mistaken identity thing against her. What a relief.

“Goodbye, Brice.” She scooped the keys from his hand as quickly as she could, but her fingertips brushed his hand.

It was like touching a piece of heaven. A corner of serenity. The shame within her faded until there was only a hush in her soul. She didn’t know why this happened, but it couldn’t be a good sign. She hopped into her car, grabbed her belt as Brice closed her door. Their gazes met, held through the tempered glass, and her world stilled. Her heart forgot to beat.

Probably from the aftereffects of a lethal dose of embarrassment and nothing else—surely not interest, she told herself as she started the engine. But she knew, down deep, that wasn’t the truth. The truth wasn’t something she could examine too closely.

She drove away, into the sun, purposefully keeping her gaze on the road ahead. She resisted the urge to peek at her rearview mirror and see if he was standing there, watching her go.

Chloe had cried in happiness at her first glimpse of the wedding cake. The cake had been cut, pictures taken, and everyone in the ballroom had been served, and still he could hear the conversation buzzing about the unbelievable cake. It had looked like a porcelain creation of art and beauty, impossible that it was edible. But every piece, from the intricate lace ruffles to the golden beads to the delicate curls of rose petals, had tasted as sweet as heaven.

Each of the two hundred carefully stacked serving boxes, printed to match the lacework of the cake, held an individual cake for the guests to take home. A heart-shaped version with sugary miniature rosebuds and golden ribbons. He thought of the woman who had done so much work as a gift to his sister. Chloe didn’t know it yet since he hadn’t found the moment to tell her. She looked as happy as a princess in her frosty white gown at her husband’s side.

Brice thanked God for his sister’s happiness. He wouldn’t mind having some of that kind of joy of his own. He took a gulp of sparkling cider, draining the glass. This was the spot where Ava had stood earlier this morning, with the pale morning sunshine sprinkling over her like a blessing.

Then she’d driven away. What had she been thinking? Did she like him at all? She hadn’t acted like it, and yet he’d thought he’d glimpsed something in her eyes. Something that made him think she might be feeling this, too.

Then again, she’d driven off pretty fast. That couldn’t be the best sign.

“There you are, big brother. You’ve been hiding.” Chloe swept close in her cloud of a dress.

“You know me. All this fancy stuff makes me itch.”

She slipped her arm through his. “You look dashing. Five of my former sorority sisters asked me if you were seeing someone.”

“And you said…?”

“That you seem to be interested in someone. But if I’m wrong, I have a long list of available women I can set you up with, Mr. Most Eligible Bachelor.”

“You know I had nothing to do with that. It’s not me.” That only made him feel more out of place. Like he was a rich playboy looking for a fast lifestyle or a great catch for a debutante—both equally wrong.

All he wanted was to trade in this getup for his favorite T-shirt, jeans and his broken-in work boots. That’s who he really was, and all this glam and glitter made his palms sweat. He swept his hand toward the cake. “You don’t need to set me up with a date. I can do it myself.”

“Would you rather Mom did it? She’s working on it, you know. I was just trying to help out.”

“I know.” If anyone knew how rough of a time he’d had after the breakup with Whitney, it was Chloe. She meant well. “I can handle it from here.”

“I never doubted it.” She rose up on tiptoe to brush a sisterly kiss to his cheek. “I want you to be happy. I saw how you looked at Ava at my shower.”

“Exactly how was that?”

“Like you were glimpsing heaven. Don’t worry, I haven’t said anything to her, but you should ask her out. I bet she says yes.”

“I’ve tried that, but I don’t think she likes me.” Like he needed his baby sister’s dating advice. He could handle his own love life just fine. “She said no.”

“And since when does Brice Donovan take no for an answer?” She flounced away, grinning over her shoulder at him. “Try again, silly. Look out, here comes Mom.”

The problem was, his mother had been dropping some pretty strong hints lately. Now that she had Chloe successfully matched, she must be refocusing her energy on him. She seemed determined as she barreled through the crowd. Flawless, dressed in diamonds and flowing silk, she looked deceptively like a genteel upper-class lady instead of the five-star general she really was.

“Brice. You have been hiding again.” She tugged at his tie, unknotted and hanging loose. “This isn’t a barnyard. And what are you doing all the way over here? What are people going to think?”

He accepted the china dessert plate a server handed him. “Maybe people will think that I’m having a second piece of cake.”

“Yes. The cake. Horrible, that’s what it is. I don’t know what Chloe was thinking going with that McKaslin girl.”

“That she wanted her friend to make her wedding cake.”

“Ridiculous. That cake is unsophisticated and completely unacceptable. And the taste of it, why, it’s much too sweet. What is wrong with that girl? I told Chloe. I said, you’re going to regret going with her.”

“Mom, stop. You’re doing it again.”

“But did she listen to me? No, she had to have her own way. We ought to have gone with a professional, not some iffy girl who thinks because our family is richer than hers, she has the right to charge us an arm and a leg.”

He laid a hand on his mom’s arm to stop her. Sometimes she got such a wind going—sort of like gravity’s effect on a snowball rolling downhill—that she simply couldn’t realize what she was saying. “Chloe’s happy, and that’s all that matters. Besides, how much did Ava charge?”

“Ava, is it?” Mom’s face pinched, something only she could do and still look dignified. “I wouldn’t be so familiar with her if I were you. Her family has money, goodness, but that mother of hers.”

“People have been known to say the same thing about Chloe.” He said it gently, because he knew his mother didn’t mean to be harsh. She simply wasn’t aware of it. “I think Ava did an amazing job. So does everyone else in the room. Maybe you should learn to like sweet. You’re awfully fond of the bitter.”

“That had better not be a veiled reference to me, young man.” His mom smiled and tried to hide it, but her eyes were twinkling. “I work hard for this reputation. If people aren’t afraid of you, they take advantage. Now, come with me and say hello to a few of my dear friends.”

“To the daughters of your friends, you mean.”

“Crystal Frost is back from her disastrous divorce to that big real estate broker in Seattle. She’s perfect for you.”

“Perfect? I don’t think so.” He took a bite of cake, and sweetness flooded his mouth. The frosting was as rich as cream cheese, and the cake was delicious and buttery. Perfect.

“Hello, Brice. Excuse me.” One of his mother’s friends had sauntered over and gestured toward the cake. “Lynn, this is all so lovely. I came to plead for the name of the designer. My Carly must have a cake like this for her wedding.”

Brice knew it would probably drain his mother of her life energy to say something kind about anyone. She was his mom, so he tried to save her from herself. And he wanted to help the cute baker, even if she didn’t want to have coffee with him. “Ava McKaslin is the designer and I highly recommend her. Chloe loved working with her.”

“Oh, let me think which McKaslin girl. Oh, of course. The friend of your sister’s. One of the twins?”

“Yep. She has a shop off Cherry Lane. My company starts renovation on it this week.”

“I know which shop you mean. Why, thank you, Brice. You do know that my Crystal is back from Seattle. She’s here somewhere.” Maxime scanned the room. “Where did she go?”

Uh-oh. Time to escape while he could. “I have to go. Mrs. Frost, it was good seeing you again. Bye, Mom.”

He left quickly and didn’t look back. It wasn’t until he hit the foyer that he realized he still had hold of his dessert plate. Ava’s cake. As if he couldn’t quite let her go.

The only reason Ava heard her cell ring was because of the break between songs. The electronic chime echoed in the silence of her shop’s kitchen. She set down her pastry cone, hit the Pause button on her CD player and went in search of her phone.

Not in her apron pocket. Not on the kitchen counter. She followed the electronic ringing to her gym bag. She unzipped the outside compartment and ta da, there it was.

As she grabbed her phone, she realized it was after four. Mrs. Carnahan was supposed to drop by for the birthday cake in ten minutes! Good thing it was almost done. Well, it would be done if she’d stop fussing. But after this morning’s disaster, she wanted this cake to be perfect.

She flipped open the phone. “I’m late, I know. I was supposed to call an hour ago. My bad.”

Instead of her sister’s sensible response, a man’s resonant chuckle vibrated in her ear. “Keeping your boyfriend waiting?”

It took her a moment to place that voice. Brice Donovan. If he was calling, that could only mean one thing. “Chloe wasn’t happy with the cake?”

Disappointment drained her and she sank onto the floor next to her gym bag. Not only had she failed at something she’d tried her hardest at, something that she was good at, but she’d let down a friend. “I’m so sorry.”

“Now, wait one minute. That’s not why I’m calling.”

“It’s not?”

“No.” His voice warmed like melting chocolate, kind and friendly. “I’m calling to thank you. You made her very happy. She didn’t want to cut into the cake because it was too pretty.”

“Really? Chloe was happy? Whew!” That was a relief. Now, if she could just forget flinging insults, she’d be doing well. Don’t even think about what happened, she told herself. Look forward, not back. Don’t dwell on what went wrong.

Problem was, that was easier said and not so easy to do. She took a quivering breath. “Good. Then my work is done.”

“And your work is?”

“To make this world a sweeter place one cake at a time. I know it’s not solving world strife, but it’s the only talent I seem to have, so I’m going with it.”

“Surely that’s not your only gift.”

“Uh, you don’t want to hear the long list of disasters I’ve left in my wake. Speaking of which, I have a cake to get ready and box for a client.”

“You can’t do that and talk to me?”

“If I want to drop the cake. I need two hands.”

Don’t think of him in that tux, she thought. Or how amazing he looked. Or how kind he’d been when he’d helped her recover her keys. What had he been thinking when she’d driven away? That unreadable expression in his eyes came back to her now and unsettled her. Why?

Just forget it, Ava. Just forget him. “I appreciate the call. Thank you.”

“Well, now, I’m not done with you yet.”

“Why am I not surprised?” She couldn’t keep the curiosity out of her voice. Or the smile. Both the humiliation she’d felt and the failure seemed far away. Maybe it was because she knew this was a pity call. He felt sorry for the dopey cake lady. Face it, he was Mr. Wow, and she was lucky to keep the date and time straight.

That meant this was a business call. How great was that? She hadn’t totally embarrassed herself beyond redemption after all. Cool. “Hopefully you’re interested in placing an order?”

“You’ve got a renovation coming up. How are you going to fill your orders?”

He probably knew about the upcoming renovation because Chloe had been the one to recommend a construction company. “I’m planning on using my sister’s kitchen. She’s spending most of her evenings with her fiancé and his daughter, so I’ve commandeered her condo.”

“Then maybe you and I can talk later. Say, Monday morning, bright and early?”

“Oops. Can’t. I have construction dudes coming by bright and early.”

“That’s a coincidence because I—”

“I’m totally sorry, but my customer is here. Can I call you back and we can make an appointment? I can show you my catalogue and have some samples ready.”

“Why don’t I come by on Monday sometime?” Brice leaned back in his car seat and could see the bakery’s front door over the curve of the side mirror. There was a grandmotherly woman at the front door, waving at Ava through the glass.

“Thanks, Mr. Donovan. I really appreciate this. Bye!” There was a click in his ear.

He slid his sunglasses down his nose to get a better view as the front door swung open and there was Ava, dressed in her jeans and that yellow T-shirt, her hair tied back and her genuine smile bright as she waved her hands, talking away to her customer.

Okay, this isn’t how he figured things would go. Again. Ava wasn’t going to make this easy for him.

She caught his gaze again, moving back into sight with a cake made like a giant dump truck. The red chassis and the bright blue bed made it look like the real toy. Even from a distance, he could see the details. The driver behind the steering wheel, the big black tires, and real-looking dirt.

When she opened the other box, he watched the grandmother’s face brighten a notch. There were what had to be small cake rocks about the size of his thumb in chubby yellow buckets. One for each little guest, he figured.

The grandmother looked delighted. But it was the sight of Ava that drew him, multifaceted and flawless, shining like one perfect jewel. She probably didn’t realize how she shone from the inside out when she was happy. How caring she was as she refolded the side panels and tucked the lids of the boxes into place. How she waved away what was probably a compliment with ease. She was like no one he’d ever seen before.

Something happened inside him when he looked at Ava. Something that made his spirit come more alive.

He was going to try again. She was a sparkle he could not resist.

He put the car into gear and started driving. Her cheerful words replayed in his mind. Hopefully you’re interested in placing an order? She’d sounded so full of joy. How was he going to tell her he hadn’t meant he wanted to order a cake, but to talk to her about that cup of coffee he’d mentioned earlier?

And what about the renovation? She’d sounded as if the construction guys who were coming had nothing to do with him and his company. She did know he was a part owner, right?

Then again, Ava might not have noticed. His business partner, Rafe, had handled the contracts and the scheduling, and was supervising this project.

Brice hit the speed dial on his cell and waited for it to connect. He’d see if Rafe wouldn’t mind switching jobs. Being around Ava every working day for the next two weeks sounded like a good idea. No, a brilliant idea, considering how much he wanted to get to know her.

How would she take it? He was definitely anxious to see the look on her face when he walked into her shop bright and early Monday morning. What would happen then? Only God knew.

One thing was for sure, it was going to be a whole lot of fun to find out.

“Good news!” Ava announced as she sailed through the front door of their apartment. “Mrs. Carnahan loved the cake. She said her little grandson was going to be so happy. And your idea about adding bonus party favors at no charge—it was brilliant. She loved the little rocks I made.”

Her twin, Aubrey poked her head out of the kitchen. “What did I tell you?”

“I know, you’re always right. I don’t deny it.” Ava rolled her eyes, shut the door with her foot and dropped her purse, gym bag and keys on the floor. “Instead of takeout burgers, I splurged and got Thai. Cashew chicken, stir-fried rice and that noodle dish you love.”

“Well done.” Aubrey’s smile turned full-fledged as she reached for the big takeout sack. “Hurry up, get changed. I’ll get us all set up.”

“I’m late, I know. But it was an excellent day despite it all. Who knew?” Ava took off for her bedroom, a total disaster. One day when she got enough time, it would be the epitome of orderliness. But since she wasn’t sure when that would be, she had to go with the flow.

Knowing Aubrey was waiting, she tossed her clothes on the floor, kicked her sandals toward the closet and dug around in the laundry basket of clean clothes for her favorite sweatpants and T-shirt. After she found her fuzziest socks, she flew down the little hall.

Aubrey was in the living room setting two heaping plates of food onto two TV trays facing the widescreen TV they couldn’t afford but got anyway. Not smart, and her poor credit card was bent from the weight of debt, but it was nice to watch Clark Gable in forty-two-inch glory.

“If you would have remembered to call before I hit the video store, you would have had some say in tonight’s movie,” Aubrey said as she settled down on the couch.

“Hey, the cell waves work both ways. You could have called me.”

“I’m always calling you.” Aubrey reached for her napkin and shook it open over her lap. “So, I take it the Donovan cake delivery went well this morning. You haven’t mentioned the groom. What happened with that?”

“Oh, that’s a disaster. Total doom. You know me.” While she’d told her sister about insulting Brice Donovan, she hadn’t given her the day’s full update.

“Men.” Aubrey shook her head, disapproving. “And to think Chloe’s groom, Mark Upton, is supposed to be like last year’s most eligible bachelor. Philanthropic. An upstanding Christian. I guess it just shows, you never know about some men. They show one face when they really have another.”

“Well, now, that’s not exactly the case.” Ava slipped behind the TV tray and plopped onto the couch. “Whew, I’m starved. Your turn to say the blessing.”

“What happened? Are you telling me that he showed up this morning at the country club and apologized? Or no, there was a mix up. He didn’t proposition you, did he? You jumped to conclusions like you always do and accused him of it. Right? When it wasn’t true?”

“You’re partly right. I was asked out to coffee, sure, but it wasn’t by Mr. Upland. I thought it was, but you know me, like I can remember everyone I’ve ever met.”

“We went to school with Mark Upton. Don’t you remember?”

“I was busy in high school. How was I supposed to know everyone? Besides, I don’t recognize a lot of people. I’m not good with faces.”

“Or names.”

“Or names.” How could she argue with that? She wanted to keep things light and funny, that’s the way she felt comfortable with everything. Anything serious or painful, well, that made her feel way too much. And once you started really feeling, then you had to face all the other emotions you were trying to avoid.

Avoidance was a very good policy. At least, she was doing fine avoiding the things that hurt the most. Take today. She didn’t have to think about the fact that Brice Donovan might think she was a disaster, too, but he wanted to order a cake. She’d concentrate on the cake part, and try hard not to think about anything else.

Not that she was having the greatest luck with that.

“So what really happened?” Aubrey asked, taking possession of the remote before Ava could grab it and divert her with the movie. “It’s okay. You can tell me. It isn’t as bad as you think. Really.”

Easy for Aubrey, who thought things through before she opened her mouth. Aubrey who never made a mistake of any kind, who never embarrassed herself, who never locked her keys in the car.

Remembering how Brice Donovan’s voice had sounded, kind and not belittling, made the yuck of her morning fade a few shades.

“I’ll tell you after the movie.” Ava shrugged. Some things she didn’t even want to talk about, even with her twin. That wasn’t the way it was supposed to be, and she knew it made Aubrey sad to be shut out like that, but she didn’t want to share every detail.

She wanted to do things right for a change—not just try really hard and then fail, but to really stay focused and careful and committed. One day, maybe she could be the girl who didn’t make a mess, who didn’t insult Bozeman’s most eligible bachelor or who frustrated people so much they simply left her for good.

As Aubrey bowed her head, beginning the blessing, Ava bowed her head, too. But she added a silent prayer to Aubrey’s. Show me the way, Lord. Please, I don’t want to mess up anymore. Show me how to be different. Better.

There was no answer, just the click of the remote as Aubrey hit a button. The TV flared to life, showing a classic movie with a silver-screen hero. Maybe if she met a man like that, she might make an exception to her no-man policy.

She grabbed her fork and dug into the cashew chicken, but did she pay attention to the movie? No. Who was she thinking about?

Brice Donovan and how he’d looked like a real gentleman in his tux. How he’d looked like one of her forgotten dreams when he’d been standing in the full brightness of the morning sun, looking as vibrant and as substantial as a legend come true. But it was just a trick of the light. Legends didn’t exist in real life, and real love didn’t happen to her.

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