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Resisting Mr. Tall, Dark & Texan
Christine Rimmer
Ethan Traub is bringing the family oil business and his sassy assistant, Lizzie Landry, to Thunder Canyon. Settling down wasn’t part of this gorgeous bachelor’s plan, but when Lizzie wants to go back to Texas to open a bakery he won’t let her go so easily… Is this one deal Ethan will seal with a kiss?



“I don’t know what’s happening.”
And he realized he meant it. One moment, it all seemed so clear to him, that he should keep his hands off her, that getting intimate with Lizzie was the kind of uncharted territory he had no right to explore.
And then the next moment, he found himself thinking that he’d go nuts if he couldn’t touch her, if he couldn’t find out what it would feel like to kiss her.
“So … what should we do?” Her eyes were so green right then. So wide. And her mouth was soft, perfect for kissing.
“Ethan?” Her eyes searched his face. “I—”
“Shh. Don’t talk. Not right now.”
“Ethan …”
He took her mouth again. He simply could not resist.
Dear Reader,
Lizzie Landry has a dream. She wants to reopen her family’s lost bakery in her hometown of Midland, Texas.
Hunky Texas oilman Ethan Traub has other plans for Lizzie. And they do not include her leaving him to start her own business. His life has been pretty near perfect for the past five years, ever since Lizzie became his assistant—both at work and at home. She’s also his best friend. And did I mention she takes such good care of all his high-maintenance girlfriends?
Ethan will do just about anything to keep Lizzie as his trusty right-hand woman. He’s moving to Thunder Canyon, Montana, to open his own branch of Traub Oil Industries. And no matter what, he plans to see to it that Lizzie comes with him.
She’s set on resisting him. But when Ethan turns on the Texas charm, well, even down-to-earth Lizzie can’t help but start seeing her best friend and boss in a whole new light.
Happy reading, everyone!
Yours always,
Christine Rimmer

About the Author
CHRISTINE RIMMER came to her profession the long way around. Before settling down to write about the magic of romance, she’d been everything from an actress to a salesclerk to a waitress. Now that she’s finally found work that suits her perfectly, she insists she never had a problem keeping a job—she was merely gaining “life experience” for her future as a novelist. Christine is grateful not only for the joy she finds in writing, but for what waits when the day’s work is through: a man she loves, who loves her right back, and the privilege of watching their children grow and change day to day. She lives with her family in Oklahoma. Visit Christine at www.christinerimmer.com.

Resisting
Mr. Tall, Dark
& Texan
Christine Rimmer







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
For Marcia Book Adirim.
Intrepid. Fun. Flexible.
And of course, so creative!

Chapter One
“Lizzie, don’t do this to me. You know I can’t live without you.”
Instantly, Lizzie Landry felt her determination weakening. How does he do that? she wondered. At the same time, she found herself thinking that he really would be lost without her, and she did worry that he …
She caught herself.
Oh, come on. What was her problem here? After five years with Ethan Traub, she ought to be immune to his considerable charm and shameless flattery. And she was. Pretty much. It was only that she did hate to leave him when he needed her. Which was constantly.
But no. She had to be strong. The break had to be made.
She put on her sternest, most unwavering expression. “Ethan, you’ve been putting me off for months, and it’s not going to work this time. We have to talk about this.”
The melting look in those dark velvet eyes of his faded as he scowled. She watched as his perfect, manly lips assumed a downward curve. “There’s nothing to talk about,” he grumbled. “You’re coming to Montana with me. Eventually, if you’re still unhappy with—”
Lizzie put up a hand. “I’m not unhappy, Ethan. It’s been wonderful working for you. If I still had to work for someone, I would want it to be you.”
“Great, then. We have no problem. You can keep working for me.”
“No, I’m not going to do that. I want to be my own boss. That was always my goal—a goal it’s time I reached. And you know that I’m ready to move on because I have told you so. Over and over and over again. Two weeks’ notice. I think that’s fair.”
“Two weeks!” he blustered, rising from behind his desk. Bracing his knuckles on the desk pad, he loomed toward her, six-foot-four of killer-handsome, seriously imposing Texas male. “It’s impossible. It’s not going to happen. You’ll need more than two weeks to find your replacement—not that you’re going to be finding one right now. We’re leaving on Thursday.”
“Ethan, I told you. I’m not going to—”
“Oh, yeah.” He cut her off before she could finish her sentence. “You are. For so many reasons.”
Lizzie tried not to groan. “Please don’t start on the reasons. I’ve heard them all.”
“And now you’re going to hear them again.”
“Do I have a choice?”
“None.” And he proceeded to tell her everything she already knew. How he couldn’t get along without her, how it just wasn’t reasonable for her to be talking about cutting out on him now. “You know I need time, Lizzie. It’s not going to be easy finding another assistant as good as you are. Someone flexible as to living arrangements. Someone smart. Someone calm and capable. But also fun to be around. Someone who can manage the office, the house—and have my back on the personal front …”
There was more in the same vein. Okay, yes. She’d been flattered the first time she heard it. But after months of trying to tell him she was ready to move on, listening to how she couldn’t go was getting old.
She waited for him to wind down before reminding him, yet again, “Montana doesn’t work for me. I’m a Texan, born and bred right here in Midland. And I’m staying here in Midland and opening my bakery as planned. You need to get used to that idea because you are not changing my mind. Not this time.”
“Traub Oil needs you.”
“Traub Oil managed fine without me for over thirty years.”
“All right, then.” He straightened to his full height. “I need you.” He towered over her now because she remained in the chair on the far side of his desk. She considered rising to face him. Upright, after all, she was only a few inches shorter than he was and could almost stand head-to-head with him.
But no. She stayed in her seat. And concentrated on projecting calm determination. “You don’t need me, Ethan. Not really. You’re going to be fine.”
He shook his head. “Lizzie, Lizzie, Lizzie …” And then, with a heavy sigh, he folded his long, hard frame back into his fat leather swivel chair. “How about a bonus? A … severance bonus. Stick with me a little longer, you walk away with more cash.”
Do not ask, her sternest inner voice instructed. But money was money. She’d been flat-broke once. She never, ever wanted to go there again. “How big of a bonus?”
He named an eye-widening figure.
She let out a strangled laugh. “You’re kidding.”
“I am serious as a failed blowout preventer.”
Okay, she was weakening now. Genuinely weakening. Plus, well, she did feel a little bad about letting him go to Montana without her. He had big plans for Montana. Maybe she ought to stick with him through that, at least ….
There was a gleam in those dark eyes now. He knew he had her. “Think of it, Lizzie. You know you can always use a larger cushion. Startup costs multiply. They inevitably turn out to be more than you projected.”
Okay, he had a point there. “How long would I have to stay on?”
He gave an easy shrug. “Oh, I’m thinking a few more months should do it.”
“A few months—as in three?” She was the one scowling now.
His rueful smile could charm the habit off a nun. “Just think about it. That’s all I’m asking. We’ll discuss it more later.”
“But Ethan, I—”
He made a show of eyeing his Rolex. “Whoa, look at the time … .”
“Ethan—”
“I’ve got that meeting with Jamison in five. You should have reminded me.”
“A minute more,” she piped up desperately. “Let’s just get this settled.”
“Can’t right now. Sorry.”
“Ethan—”
“You have my offer. Think it over.” He was already on his feet again.
“But I have thought it over and I—”
“Sorry. Really. Got to go.” And, again, he was out the door before she could pin him down.
Lizzie slumped in the chair.
But only for a moment—and then she was drawing her shoulders back, smoothing her hair that tended to frizz, even in the relatively low humidity of West Texas. She was not giving up on this. Today, one way or another, she was going to finish giving her notice.
Put it in writing, her sterner self insisted. That way he would have no choice but to accept the inevitable.
But no. She just couldn’t do that. Not to Ethan, who was not only her boss, but also a true friend, the one who had come through for her in a big way when she most needed some help and support.
She would get through to him. After all, he couldn’t escape her indefinitely. Especially not given that she lived in his house. No matter how hard he tried to avoid her, he had to come home eventually.
The meeting with Roger Jamison went well, Ethan thought.
Roger would have no trouble holding down the fort while Ethan was in Montana. And later, if things went as Ethan planned, he would formally name Roger to replace him as Traub Oil Industries’ chief financial officer.
After the meeting with Roger, Ethan could have returned to his corner office, but Lizzie would be there at her desk, guarding his door. And waiting to continue explaining how she was leaving him.
Forget that.
He was meeting his stepfather, Pete Wexler, for lunch at the club at noon. So he went on over there an hour early. He got a Coke and sat out on the clubhouse front patio and enjoyed the late-May sunshine.
Pete showed up a few minutes early and he grabbed Ethan in a hug. “This is great,” Pete announced. “Good to get away from the office, get a little one-on-one time.” Pete clapped Ethan on the arm as he released him. “Shall we go on inside?” He gestured toward the wide glass doors.
Ethan led the way. They got a table with a nice view of the golf course.
And as soon as they put in their order, Pete started telling him what he already knew. “You’re leaving Thursday.”
“Right.”
“Your mother and I will try to get away Friday morning. It’s important to both of us, to be there for your brother’s wedding.” Corey, born third in the family after Ethan, was getting married on Saturday. Corey and his bride, Erin, were settling down together in Thunder Canyon, a great little mountain town not far from Bozeman. There was already a big Traub family contingent in the Thunder Canyon area. Ethan had cousins there, and his older brother, Dillon, the doctor of the family, had settled there, too. Pete was still talking. He named off Ethan’s remaining siblings. “Jackson, Jason and Rose are going to make it, too. The whole family will be there … .”
Ethan sat back in his chair and listened to his stepdad ramble on and thought about how long it had taken him to accept Pete into the family. At least twenty years.
But eventually, Ethan, like his four brothers and his sister, had come around. How could he not? Pete was a good man. A kind man, with a big heart. He doted on Ethan’s mom and had consistently been there for his stepchildren.
The hard fact, Ethan saw now, was that it had taken him a couple of decades to forgive poor Pete for not being Charles Traub. Ethan’s dad had been tall and commanding, a self-made millionaire before he was thirty—back in the day when a million bucks actually counted for something. He’d died on an oil rig twenty-eight years ago, when Ethan was nine.
Pete had been there for Ethan’s mom, Claudia, from the day that the accident happened. And that had stirred up the town gossip mill in a big way. Ethan and his brothers had suffered no end of bloody noses and black eyes defending their mother’s honor and, by extension, Pete’s. At the same time as they stood up for the man, they were all secretly suspicious of Pete’s motives.
But in the end, there was no denying that Pete Wexler was a rock. He was no maverick. He liked to take things slow and steady, which, in terms of TOI, sometimes drove Ethan nuts. Still, Pete adored Ethan’s mom and he’d been a fine husband to her for twenty-six years now. Last year he’d had a heart attack, which freaked them all out and made them all the more aware of how much he meant to them.
Now, Pete was fully recovered and taking better care of himself. Back around the time of his heart attack, he and Ethan’s mom had talked about retiring. But not anymore. Pete was feeling great lately. And for the foreseeable future, they would be running Traub Oil Industries together, Pete as chairman of the board and Claudia as CEO.
Ethan knew they depended on him, but he was through waiting to be the boss. And he was a damn sight more adventurous about the business than either his mother or Pete would ever be. He’d dedicated his life to TOI, learned the company from the ground up. And he’d been CFO for six years now. It was enough. Exploration and development was the key for him. If he wanted bigger opportunities, he needed to create them. And thus, the trip to Montana.
Their food came. They dug in.
And that was when Pete brought up the resort. “About this Thunder Canyon Resort opportunity. Your mom and I have looked over the material your brothers put together.” Dillon and Corey had been pushing to get some TOI capital invested in the resort. “Do we really want to take on a failing hospitality venture at this point?”
“We wouldn’t be taking it on exactly.”
Pete smiled. “Sorry. Figure of speech. But you know what I mean.”
“I do, Pete. And come on, I wouldn’t say the resort is failing. In fact, the numbers show improvement over the past year. And they got McFarlane House hotels to invest. I’ve been in contact with Connor McFarlane, second in command at McFarlane House. He’s committed to seeing the resort succeed.”
“You’ll get with McFarlane, face-to-face?”
“We’ve got a meeting set up for next week in Thunder Canyon.”
“Good.”
“The resort owners have been doing some reorganization …” Ethan waited for Pete’s nod before continuing. “And they’ve been pulling out all the stops to broaden their market, to make the resort more accessible to a wider demographic, while not sacrificing the reputation they’ve built as a luxury destination.”
“It’s only that I see no reason to rush into any thing … .”
“And we won’t. Sit tight,” Ethan reassured him. “I’ll spend more time on it, go over the books thoroughly, meet with the general manager, tour every inch of the property—all before we get down to giving a yes or a no.”
Pete nodded. “I know you will.” And then he started in about Ethan’s plans to expand into shale oil extraction once he got to Montana. Same old yadda yadda. Extracting oil from shale was cost-prohibitive. The environmental impact wasn’t good. As always, Pete reiterated all the drawbacks he’d reiterated any number of times before.
Patiently, Ethan reminded him that the higher the cost per barrel of oil, and the more depleted the oil reserves, the better it looked to be investing in oil shale. He reminded his stepdad yet again that the technology for extraction was constantly improving and TOI didn’t want to end up behind the curve on this.
Eventually, Pete ran out of red flags on that subject. They finished their lunch and parted in the club parking lot, where Ethan submitted to another big hug.
“I know I tend to be a little overcautious,” Pete said when he let Ethan loose. “But I want you to know that I—and your mother, too, of course—not only love you and wish we could keep you right here in Midland forever. We also realize you have to get out there and break some new ground. And we admire the hell out of you for that, son.”
The smile Ethan gave his stepdad then had nothing but love in it. “Thanks, Pete. In some ways, you were always way ahead of the rest of us. It took me a while to appreciate how far ahead.”
Pete was looking a little misty-eyed. “See you at the board meeting.”
“Yeah, see you then.”
Ethan went back to the office.
Big mistake. Lizzie was waiting.
She rose from her desk as he approached his office door, blew a strand of almost-blond hair out of her eye and tried to get his attention. “Ethan, I—”
“Not now, Lizzie. I’ve got important calls to make.”
“But—”
“Later. Soon.” He pushed open his door, went through and shut it behind him. Fast.
He spent the next few hours answering phone messages, dealing with email and clearing his desk as much as possible, because he—and Lizzie, too, whether she was willing to admit it yet—would be on their way to Thunder Canyon bright and early Thursday morning.
The board of directors meeting was happening down in the main conference room. That meant he had to leave the safety of his office and get past Lizzie again.
No problem. He waited to go until she actually had to buzz him to remind him of the meeting.
And then he flew past her desk with a “Hold any messages. I’ll deal with them tomorrow.”
She didn’t even look up. She knew there was no chance they would be discussing unpleasant subjects again that day.
The meeting included a catered meal and was over at a little after eight. No way was he going home that early. Not with Lizzie, who was both his assistant and his live-in housekeeper, lying in wait for him there.
So he called a couple of friends and they went out for a beer. The bar had the Rangers game on the big screens. Ethan stayed to watch them beat the Angels five to four.
By then it was after eleven. One of his buddies invited everyone to his place for a final round. Ethan went. And he was the last to leave.
He didn’t pull into the driveway of his four-thousand-square-foot house in a newer, gated subdivision until after two. All seemed quiet, only the outside lights were on. It looked to him as if Lizzie had given up on him and gone to bed.
Terrific.
Very quietly, he let himself into the utility room from the garage. Lizzie’s rooms were on the ground floor, in the back, not all that far from the garage entrance, so he took extra care not to make a sound. Everything was dark and quiet and the house smelled faintly of baked goods.
His mouth watered. Cookies? No. It smelled more like … muffins. Maybe blueberry. He really loved Lizzie’s blueberry muffins. In fact, he could use one right now.
Following his nose, he tiptoed down the short back hallway toward the dark kitchen.
He got one foot beyond the doorway when the kitchen lights popped on. He blinked against the sudden brightness and growled, “Lizzie, what the hell?”
“Ethan, there you are.” She stood by the island, wearing a very patient expression and a robe that looked as if it might have been made from some old lady’s bedspread. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever get home.” The muffins were on the counter, behind her, looking all fat and golden and tempting. “This is getting ridiculous. You realize that, right?”
“Are those blueberry?”
She nodded, but she didn’t step aside so he could grab one. “We need to talk.” A weary sigh escaped her. “You want some coffee?”
He had that sinking feeling. She was determined to leave him. He knew that. She had a dream and she wouldn’t let go of it. And he was running out of ways to avoid having to let her go. “I shouldn’t have paid you so well,” he grumbled. “You saved too much, too fast.”
She shrugged. “You couldn’t help it. You’re a generous man.” She looked down at her feet, which were stuck in a pair of floppy terry-cloth slippers the same old-lady blue as her robe. “You’ve been so good me. When my dad died … I don’t know if I could have made it without you.” Slowly, she lifted her head and they looked at each other.
He gave in. “Okay. Coffee.”
She knew he was no fan of decaf, but coffee kept him awake when he drank it at night, so she brewed decaf anyway. That was the thing about Lizzie. She knew what he wanted—and what he needed—without his having to tell her.
He took a muffin, grabbed a napkin and sat down at the table by the dark bow window. She used the single-cup maker, so the decaf was ready in no time. She set it down in front of him. He waited until she took the chair across the table before he broke off a hunk of the muffin and put it in his mouth.
Fat blueberries and that sweet, buttery, pale yellow muffin. How was it that Lizzie’s muffins always managed to be light and substantial, both at once? Delicious. Lizzie’s muffins—like her cookies and her cakes, her pies and the fat loaves of bread she baked—always made him feel good. Satisfied. Happy with the world and his place in it.
At home.
Yeah. That was it. Lizzie made him feel at home.
She said, “I’ve been thinking about that severance bonus you mentioned.”
He ate another bite, savoring it, before he spoke. “Three months, it’s yours.”
She shook her head. “It’s just too long.”
“Two, then.” He pulled out all the stops and put on a sad, pleading expression. “Two months. Lizzie, you’ve got to give me a little time …”
A little time. Who did he think he was kidding?
There was only one Lizzie. She made it possible for him to lead exactly the life he enjoyed—no commitments, no strings. He worked hard and played hard, and when he got home, there was no one there nagging him. Just the sweet smell of something baking in the oven and Lizzie offering a nightcap. Or a bedtime cup of decaf and a fat blueberry muffin.
He not only needed to keep her from quitting, but he also needed to find a way to make her see that opening a bakery was a dream best left to die a natural death. He needed her to keep working for him. And to keep being his live-in best friend.
He picked up his coffee and sipped.
Not much got by Lizzie. Now, she was studying him with pure suspicion in her eyes. “What kind of scheme are you hatching?”
He rearranged his expression, going for total harmlessness, as he set down the cup. “Montana will be fun. A change. Change is a good thing.”
She made a humphing sound. “In spite of your plans for getting into oil shale, how likely is it that you’re going to be building an office there?”
“Very likely.” He hoped. “I have family there. Two brothers. Cousins. And my sister and my other brothers are making noises like they might want to settle down there, too.”
“An invasion of Traubs.”
“Well, I wouldn’t put it that way exactly.”
She snorted. “I would.”
He reminded her, “And I have found a house there.”
“You mean you had me find you a house there.”
“That’s right. And you did a great job.” At least judging by the pictures she’d shown him online. Neither of them had actually been there yet. But the lease was for only six months. If he didn’t like it, he’d find something else.
She was giving him that don’t-kiss-up-to-me-because-I’m-not-buying-it look. He didn’t care much for that look. She said, “How about this? You go, I stay. I hire and train my replacement while you’re gone.”
Not a chance. “Forget that.” He ate another bite of the amazing muffin. “I’ve changed my mind.”
“About?”
“I want two months out of you in Montana. Forget training your replacement. When the two months are up, I’ll find my own assistant.”
She wrinkled her very assertive nose. “Montana. Ugh.”
“Don’t knock it until you’ve been there. Thunder Canyon is like everyone’s dream of a hometown in the mountains. And the scenery is spectacular.” When she only sat there staring at him mournfully, he reminded her, “You get a giant bonus. For only two more months.”
She slanted him a sideways glance. “Two months would be it. The end. You accept that?”
He didn’t. So he lied. “Absolutely.”
“Fine,” she agreed at last. “Two months. I go with you to Montana. I get that big bonus and you find your own new assistant.”
“Deal.” He popped the rest of the muffin into his mouth and offered her his hand across the table. She took it and they shook.
He was careful to keep his gaze steady on hers and only to smile on the inside, to give her no clue that he was lying through his teeth. There was no way she was leaving him. He just needed more time with her to make her see the light.
Two months in Thunder Canyon should be just the ticket.

Chapter Two
Late Thursday afternoon, Ethan parked his rented SUV on Main Street in Thunder Canyon. The early-June sun shone bright and the air was crisp and clean, with a cool wind sweeping down from the mountains. In the distance, snowcapped peaks reached for the wide Montana sky.
He was thinking he would walk the three blocks to the Hitching Post, the landmark saloon/restaurant that had stood for well over a hundred years now at the corner where Main jogged north and became Thunder Canyon Road.
But then, a few doors down, he spotted his sister-in-law Erika. The pretty brunette stood peering in the window of one of the shops. Beside her was a gorgeous blonde. Ethan knew the blonde, too: Erin Castro, his brother Corey’s bride-to-be.
As Ethan approached, Erin turned her back to the window. She sagged against it, hanging her head. When she spoke, Ethan heard the tightness of barely controlled tears. “I can’t believe this. I talked to him yesterday …”
Erika peered all the harder in the wide front window. “I’m so sorry, Erin. I really don’t think there’s anyone in there. And all the display cases are empty.”
Erin tipped her head back and let out a moan. “How can this be happening? Oh, Erika, what am I going to do now? The wedding is Saturday.”
Erika turned around and leaned back against the window, next to Erin. “I can’t believe he would just … vanish like that.” Right then, she glanced over and saw Ethan lurking a few feet away, waiting for them to notice him. She frowned. “Ethan? Hey, I didn’t know you were already in town.”
He nodded. “Got in an hour ago. My assistant shooed me out of the house. She doesn’t like me underfoot while she’s trying to unpack—and why do I get the feeling something has gone wrong here?”
Erin let out another moan. “Because it has.” She aimed a thumb over her shoulder at the sign that said Closed Indefinitely in the shop window. The shop was a bakery. La Boulangerie was written in flowing script across the front windows. “I came over to make my final payment on my wedding cake only to find that the baker, apparently, has skipped town.”
Erika said, “She paid him two-thirds in advance. Can you believe that? This is fraud, plain and simple.”
“It’s a disaster, that’s what it is.” Erin raked her shining blond hair back off her forehead with an impatient hand. “I don’t even care about the money at this point. I care that it’s Thursday … .” A whimper escaped her. “Thursday.”
Erika wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “We’ll figure out something. There are other bakeries in town.”
“I can’t believe it. Forty-eight hours until the wedding.” Erin’s huge blue eyes swam with tears. “The whole town is coming. And. No. Cake.”
Ethan never could stand to see a woman cry. Plus, as soon as he’d realized what the problem was, he had the solution. “Erin, dry those tears. And come with me, you two. My car’s right there.”
His brothers’ women looked at him as if he was a couple sandwiches short of a picnic.
Erin sniffed. “Ethan, we’re both glad to see you and we’d love to spend a little time with you. But right now we’ve got to find someone who can deliver a six-tier wedding cake by Saturday.”
“I’m with you. I get it.” He took Erin’s arm and wrapped it around his. And he offered his other arm to Erika. “And believe it or not, I happen to know the best baker in Texas.”
Erin remained unconvinced. “That’s great, Ethan, but there’s no time to fly someone in from Texas.”
“I know. And that’s not a problem. The baker in question is right here in town—whipping the house I’m renting into shape, as a matter of fact.”
“Uh, he is?”
“Actually, her name is Lizzie. She’s a genius of a baker. She’s at my house and we are going there now.”
Lizzie stood in the formal living room of the house she’d rented for Ethan, BlackBerry in hand, and checked off the afternoon’s already-accomplished tasks.
Unpack 4 Ethan. Check.
Unpack 4 self. Check.
There was more in the same vein. But overall, the house was in pretty good shape. It had come quite nicely furnished and she’d hired Super-Spiffy Housekeeping to make the place shine. Also, the Super-Spiffy folks offered a shopping service. Lizzie jumped on that, too. As a result, the pantry and fridge were now fully stocked and ready to go.
Now, to figure out what to whip up for dinner. It would have to be something she could make up ahead and stick in the fridge, just in case Ethan wandered in later with an empty stomach. And cookies might be nice. Her mama’s recipe for butter pecan sugar cookies maybe. He could never get enough of those.
Yeah, okay. She totally spoiled him and she knew it. But when she baked, she was spoiling herself, too. There was nothing like the smell of cookies in the oven. Or sourdough bread. Or a sweet fruit kuchen. Or a nice devil’s food cake.
The smell of something baking always made Lizzie feel that all was right with the world. It brought back memories of her childhood, as vivid and real as if they were happening in the here and now, so many years later. Memories of the little child-size table she had in the back of the family business, the Texas Bluebell Bakery. Of her mama singing “Au clair de la lune” and “Frère Jacques” as she decorated a tall, splendid wedding cake or even asked for Lizzie’s help to cut gingerbread men from dark, spicy dough. When Lizzie baked, she saw her maman’s heart-shaped delicate face, her pink cheeks and radiant smile. She saw her dad as a young man again, a happy man. He’d met her maman when he was in the army, stationed in France, and he’d loved her on sight. So he’d swept her off her tiny feet and brought her home to reign over the bakery he’d inherited from his parents. Lizzie’s dad had lived for her maman.
And when her maman was gone …
Lizzie blinked and shook her head. No point in going there. She had a meal to prepare. And then she had butter-thick cookie batter to mix with toasted pecans, roll into sugared balls and flatten with the round base of a glass.
She was just turning for the kitchen when she heard the front door open.
Ethan appeared from the foyer, ushering a striking blonde and a curvy, big-eyed brunette in ahead of him. He spotted her. “Lizzie, there you are.”
She laughed. “Ethan, what are you up to now?”
He put an arm across the blonde’s shoulders. “Lizzie, meet Corey’s beautiful bride, Erin Castro.” He hooked the other arm around the brunette. “And this gorgeous creature is Erika, Dillon’s wife. My brothers are such fortunate men.”
Lizzie recognized the two from family photos. “Hey, great to meet you both at last.”
Erin said, “Hi,” kind of limply. Erika echoed the word. Both women looked a little … what? Unhappy, maybe, and worried. Especially Erin.
Lizzie gestured toward the living-room sofa and chairs. “Make yourselves comfortable. I’ll brew a pot of coffee and see if there’s anything sweet around here …” She turned for the kitchen.
“Coffee would be great,” Ethan said. “And it’s you we came to see.”
She stopped, turned. “Me?”
The women shared a glance. Erin spoke. “Ethan seems to think you might be able to save me from disaster.”
“Yikes. There’s a disaster?”
“There certainly is. A cake disaster. I went to finalize payment on my wedding cake today and found out the baker has skipped town.”
Lizzie let out a groan of sympathy. “But the wedding is Saturday, isn’t it?”
Erin gave a sad little sigh. “Exactly.”
Ethan said coaxingly, “And I told them that you’re unbeatable in the kitchen. And that you’re planning to leave me to open a bakery …”
Lizzie grinned, pleased. “You want me to do the wedding cake.”
Erin let out a cry. “Oh, it’s too much. Way too much to ask.” She put her hands to her pink cheeks. “I’m so sorry we bothered you.”
“Hold on, now.” Ethan tried to settle her down.
But Erin would not be “settled.” She turned to Erika. “We really have to get going. I need to work this problem out and I need to do it yesterday …”
Lizzie ached for the poor girl. “Hey, did I say no?”
Erin blinked. “But I … Well, could you? Would you?”
“I can, yes. And I would be honored. And you can relax. It’s very much doable. Mostly it’s going to be about getting the equipment I’ll need together on the fly like this. But the cake itself is no problem.”
“No problem?” Erin was shaking her head. “It’s for three hundred people.”
Lizzie couldn’t bear to see the poor woman so worried. She went to her, took both her small, slim hands in her own larger ones. “Let me take this worry off your shoulders. Planning a wedding is stressful enough without your baker running off on you.” The man—why was she sure it had to be a man?—should be shot.
A tear trembled in Erin’s thick lashes. “Oh, if you could …”
“I can. And I will. You’ll see. I won’t let you down. I baked several multitiered wedding cakes when I worked in my family’s bakery, before college. And I’ve done four more since then, for friends in Texas who had big, gorgeous weddings.”
The tear escaped Erin’s lashes and spilled down her cheek. She freed a hand from Lizzie’s grasp to take the tissue Ethan had produced for her. “I know it’s only a cake. It’s not the end of the world. I shouldn’t let it get to me like this …”
Erika moved in closer and wrapped an arm around Erin’s shoulder. “It’s all going to work out.” She winked at Lizzie. “My instincts tell me that Lizzie is just what we need right now.”
“Yes, I am,” said Lizzie with a low laugh. “Now come on into the kitchen. I’ll make the coffee and see if we have some packaged cookies around here because I haven’t had time to bake anything yet. You can tell me all about the fabulous cake I’ll be creating for you.”
“Oh, thank you. Thank you …”
Over Erin’s shoulder, Ethan caught Lizzie’s eye and grinned in satisfaction. Lizzie grinned right back at him. He was pleased to have found a way to solve Erin’s problem. And he knew that Lizzie loved it when he brought her a challenge.
The kitchen had a big round table positioned in a bow window very much like the one in Ethan’s house in Texas. In fact, Lizzie had pretty much chosen the house because it seemed to her a slightly smaller version of his Midland home. She’d known he would feel instantly comfortable here—then again, Ethan felt comfortable wherever he was.
He went right to the table and pulled out chairs for the bride and for Erika as Lizzie got the coffee going and put some Pepperidge Farm Milano cookies on a plate. Within a few minutes, they were all munching cookies and sipping coffee.
Lizzie got out her notebook. “Okay, now, tell me all about your perfect wedding cake.”
Erin knew exactly what she wanted. “It has round tiers—six tiers. And real flowers. I have a lot of colors. So I thought if the cake itself was all white, we could put the colors in the flowers. I have mauve, red, purple, apple green, light orange and lilac …” Lizzie jotted down the colors as she ticked them off.
Erika added, “Each of her bridesmaids and matrons gets a different color.”
Erin smiled at her soon-to-be sister-in-law. “Erika’s dress is red.”
“That will be beautiful.” Lizzie started sketching. “Filling?”
“Raspberry preserves? And I want fondant on top of buttercream icing for that beautiful smooth look …”
“The porcelain look,” Lizzie said. “And the fondant holds up well without refrigeration.”
“Yes.” Erin frowned. “I know the fondant isn’t usually very tasty …”
“Mine is—does that sound like I’m bragging?” She shrugged. “Well, I am.”
Erin beamed. “Good. I have to tell you, your confidence is really encouraging.”
Erika chuckled. “Now is not a time she needs a modest baker.”
Ethan let out a rumble of laughter. “Lizzie? Modest about baking? Never. But then, why should she be?”
Lizzie granted him an approving nod. “White cake?” she asked Erin.
Erin said, “We wanted pink champagne cake. And can you add some vanilla mousse filling with the raspberry?”
“You’ve got it. I’ll need to get with your florist. Gerbera daisies in your colors would be nice, trailing in a spiral up over the tiers …”
Erin blinked. “How did you know?”
Lizzie shrugged again. “I can do some pretty white fondant flowers, too, for another accent, as well as edible pearls.” She turned her notebook around so that the other two women could see her sketch of the cake.
Erika made a pleased sound.
Erin was beaming. “Oh, it’s perfect. Just as I pictured it.” She set down her coffee cup. “And I’ve got my checkbook.” She grabbed for the bag she’d hooked on the back of her chair. “I can pay you right now.”
Lizzie put up a hand.
But Ethan was the one who spoke. “No way. Consider it your wedding present.”
Erin looked stunned. “But I couldn’t possibly … No, that’s not right. It’s too much. I know what a cake like this costs.”
Ethan held firm. “You paid once for your cake. Not again.”
“Ethan, you’re a prince. Really. But it’s way too much work for Lizzie. It’s not fair to ask her to give her time and talent away like that.”
Lizzie spoke up then. “Don’t you worry. As I said, I’m honored to create your cake for you. I’m going to love baking your cake for you, I promise you.”
“And I promise,” said Ethan, with that melting look that broke all the girls’ hearts, “that I’ll pick up the tab. It won’t cost Lizzie a penny.”
Lizzie reached over and put her hand on Erin’s slender arm. “Ethan will take care of me. Count on it. He always does.”
Before the two women left, Erin invited Lizzie to the rehearsal dinner the next night.
“I would love to, but I think I need to stay focused, if you know what I mean.” Actually, she probably could have fit in the dinner, but she wouldn’t have been much of a guest because she’d be totally concentrated on all that would need doing the following day. She’d be up at about 4:00 a.m. Saturday, and baking her butt off. Luckily, the wedding was in the late afternoon, giving her a perfectly acceptable window of time to pull it all together.
If she could get all her equipment tomorrow. Which was another reason she didn’t want to commit to dinner Friday night. She could still be running around madly then, trying to scare up cake boards or the right size pans.
“The three of us, then,” said Erin. “You, me and Erika. We’re taking a girls’ night out as soon as Corey and I get back from our honeymoon.”
Lizzie liked the sound of that. “It’s a date.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” promised Erika. “In case there’s anything you think of that I might be able to help with.”
“Thanks. That would be terrific.”
And then, in a flurry of goodbyes and thank-yous, Corey’s bride and Dillon’s wife were gone.
With a sigh, Lizzie sagged against the front door.
Ethan stood in the arch to the living room. “You’re amazing.” He looked at her with affection and appreciation in those gorgeous dark eyes.
She felt really good, she realized, basking in her boss’s admiration—and excited over the cake she would create. “I like them. Both of them. And this is going to be fun.”
“What can I do?”
“Stick around for about an hour while I make some calls?”
“You got it.”
“Then I’ll let you know what I need from you.”
Dark eyes gleamed. “See? You already love it here.”
She had to confess, “Okay, it’s not as bad as I imagined it.”
“Not as bad?” His voice coaxed her.
“Ethan, for crying out loud, what do you want from me? We’ve only been here half a day.”
“You love it.”
She pushed off the door frame and stood tall on her own two size-ten-and-a-half feet. “It ain’t Texas.”
“Lizzie.” He spoke in that dark, sweet voice he used with his girlfriends. “You love it.”
A strange little shiver went through her. She ignored it and blew a loose strand of hair out of her eyes as she gestured down the central hallway, toward his big, well-appointed home office. “Go … check your email or something. I’ll call you when I need you.”
Lizzie booted up her own computer in her little square of office space off the kitchen and started checking online to see if she could get the equipment she needed overnighted.
No way. Not to Thunder Canyon, Montana.
She spared a wistful thought for the well-stocked shelves in her maman’s bakery. But all that was long gone. And even if she’d managed to keep some of her mother’s pans and utensils, they would be in Texas now, useless to her anyway.
So she called a couple of restaurant and kitchen supply places in nearby Bozeman. Both were just closing, but they would be open at nine tomorrow morning. And between them, they had what she was going to need.
She made a list—not only of equipment, but of all her ingredients. And then she called Erin’s florist and made arrangements to pick up the multicolored daisies Saturday morning. If she was too busy to go, Ethan would do it for her.
He appeared right then, in the doorway to the kitchen, as if she had called for him. “So? Everything under control?”
She hit Save and then Print. “So far, yes.” Faintly, in Ethan’s office, she heard the printer start up. “Tomorrow, if you can manage it, I need you.”
“I’m all yours.”
“Great. You can drive me to Bozeman. The supply stores I found open at nine. I want to be there when they unlock the doors. And we can pick up the perishables before we come back, try and get it all in one trip.”
“I can get you there and help with carrying groceries and equipment. Also, I’ll bring my platinum card.”
“Perfect.” Then she remembered. “Corey’s bachelor party. It’s tonight, right?”
He looked puzzled. “Yeah. So?”
“You’ll be out till all hours.”
“That’s the way a bachelor party tends to work.”
“So never mind. I can make the trip tomorrow on my own. I’ll bring you receipts. Lots of them.”
“Uh-uh. I’ll get up in time. And I’ll take you.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it.”
He was grinning, looking way too handsome, as he took up the challenge. “And you will see it. Just wait.”
He was sweet to want to help. She did appreciate that. And she always enjoyed his company. But it didn’t matter either way. If he wasn’t up by the time she had to go, she’d just take off on her own. No big deal. “Want some dinner? I can throw something together within twenty minutes or so.”
He shook his head. “The party’s at the Hitching Post, a local watering hole. Dillon rented a private room in the back. Dinner included.”
“You guys hire a naked girl to pop out of a cake?”
“Lizzie, Lizzie, Lizzie. Give us more credit than that.”
“Two naked girls?”
He grunted. “You know the old saying. What happens at a bachelor party stays at a bachelor party.”
She waved a hand at him. “I know, I know. If you told me you’d have to kill me and all that. Better you just keep your secrets. I’m too young to die.”
“Plus, I need you alive to make Erin’s wedding cake.”
“Right. That, too.”
“So … the twins and Rose are staying at Thunder Canyon Resort.” His brothers Jackson and Jason were fraternal twins. At thirty, their sister, Rose, was the baby of the family. “I thought I’d wander on up there, see how they’re doing, maybe have a look around the resort’s main clubhouse a little …”
She almost laughed. “And I need to know your every move, why?”
He lifted one hard shoulder in a half shrug. “Well, I mean, if there’s anything you need from me. Anything at all …” Now he was giving her that look again. That sweet, melting look, eyes like dark chocolate.
She braced her elbows on her dinky desk and wrinkled her nose at him. “What are you up to?”
He smiled, slow and lazy. “Not a thing. I’m just saying you can count on me to help, that you’re a lifesaver for poor Erin and I’m here for you, Lizzie.”
She made a shooing motion with both hands. “Out. Go. See you tomorrow.”
“You sure?”
“I am positive.”
“‘Night, then.” He turned and left her.
She watched him go, thinking what a great butt he had.
Until she caught herself staring and made herself look away.
After that, for several minutes, she just sat there at her desk, staring blindly into the middle distance, wondering why he seemed to be pulling out all the stops to be charming and attentive to her the past couple of days.
It was kind of annoying, really. They had an easygoing, best-pals relationship. And suddenly, he was messing with the program, falling all over himself to be available to her, coming way too close to flirting with her.
Worse than whatever he was up to, was the way she seemed to be responding to it. Getting all shivery when he sent her a glance. And … staring at his butt?
Okay, yeah. It was a great butt. But still. It wasn’t as if that was news or anything.
Really. The last thing she needed was to start crushing on Ethan. That would be beyond stupid.
Lizzie tossed down her pen and stood up. She smoothed her hair and straightened her plain white sleeveless shirt. Get over yourself, Landry. Ethan wasn’t up to anything beyond being extra nice to her in hope that she might change her mind about resigning.
And she was not crushing on him. Uh-uh. No way. Not in the least.

Chapter Three
At 3:10 a.m. Friday, Ethan clapped his brother Corey on the shoulder. “You’re a lucky man,” he said.
“Yes, I am,” Corey agreed. “I’ll walk you out.”
Jackson, who was good and toasted at that point, called, “Hey, where you two goin’? Party’s jus’ gettin’ started. ‘S’bad enough Dillon crapped out on us early.”
The redhead on his lap giggled. “Yeah, you two. Stick aroun’ …”
“I’ll be back,” promised Corey with a rueful grin.
Jason, across the table from his twin, shook a finger. “You guys are gettin’ old,” he accused.
Neither Corey nor Ethan argued. The lone bartender, left to close up the place when the party was finally over, shook his head and went on polishing the short bar at the other end of the room. He’d stopped serving at two, per Montana law. But that didn’t mean the partiers couldn’t bring their own and serve themselves.
Ethan waved and left the private back room of the Hitching Post with the groom at his side. They emerged midway along a dim hallway and went right.
Corey pushed the bar on the heavy door beneath the red exit sign and the cool night air came in around them. He waved Ethan out ahead of him and put down the stop on the door to keep it from latching.
They stood in the quiet parking lot under the sodium vapor lights and Corey asked, “You good to drive?”
Ethan nodded. “Not even buzzed. I couldn’t afford to get blasted. I’m taking Lizzie to Bozeman bright and early tomorrow to buy supplies for the wedding cake.”
Corey grinned. He was a fine-looking man and took after their mother’s side of the family, with lighter hair and eyes than Ethan had. “Got news for you, big brother. Tomorrow is already today.”
“Did you have to remind me?”
Corey chuckled, but then he grew serious. “I owe you. And Lizzie. You’ve made Erin very happy.” His deep voice softened when he said his bride’s name. And it struck Ethan strongly: Corey was deeply in love.
First Dillon. Now Corey.
The Traub brothers were dropping like flies lately.
Not that there was anything wrong with settling down. If a man was interested in that kind of thing.
Corey went on, “I told Erin all about the Texas Bluebell Bakery, about those cream cakes and éclairs that could light up your mouth, and about those pies Lizzie’s French mama used to bake. Remember those pies? I loved them all. Especially the sweet-potato pie.” Corey stuck his hands in the pockets of his jeans and stared up toward the sky, a dreamy look on his face. “When I think of Cécile Landry’s sweet-potato pie, it brings it all back, you know? Being a kid again, before Dad died, when life was simple, when a piece of pie could just make your day …”
Ethan did remember Cécile Landry’s pies. “I was partial to the strawberry-rhubarb, myself.”
“Oh, God,” said Corey with a groan. “The strawberry-rhubarb …”
“Lizzie still bakes a rhubarb pie for me now and then. And they’re just as good as her mama’s, believe me.” Lizzie. He scowled. Lizzie, who thought she was leaving him ….
Corey lowered his head. He peered at Ethan more closely. “You’re lookin’ a little grim.”
“Lizzie wants to quit.” The words were out before he even realized he would say them. And then he went ahead and elaborated, sounding more annoyed than he meant to. “She’s got a dream, you know?”
Corey did know. “The bakery—but you were aware of that. You told me two or three years ago, after the two of you became BFFNB, that she wanted to open a bakery again someday.”
“Uh … BFFNB?”
“Best Friends Forever, No Benefits,” Corey explained with a self-satisfied grin.
“Very funny—and it doesn’t matter that I was aware of her big dream. The point is I never really thought she would ever go through with it. What’s wrong with working for me, that’s what I want to know?”
“Whoa.” Corey stepped back. “You’re really upset about this.”
Ethan felt embarrassed suddenly. Which was ridiculous. He grunted. “Well, yeah. Yeah, I am. We’ve got a good thing going, me and Lizzie. And have you any idea how much I pay her?”
“What’s that have to do with anything?”
“Just answer the damn question.”
Corey answered carefully. “I’m sure it’s a lot.”
“You bet it’s a lot. She’s got full medical and dental. She’s even got points in TOI.”
Corey’s brows drew together. “But she wants to get back into her family’s business.”
“Hold on a second here,” Ethan grumbled. “You’re my brother. You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“I am on your side. But Lizzie’s always struck me as the type who gets things done, who sees what she wants and makes sure it happens. She wants to open a bakery.”
“It’s a phase, that’s all. She’ll get past it.”
Corey only looked at him.
“What?” Ethan demanded.
Corey spoke with exasperating gentleness. “I gotta say I’ve learned a lot about women since I found Erin. Before Erin, I thought I knew it all. But now I’m kind of getting the picture that I didn’t know squat.”
“And your point is, exactly?”
“Ethan, I’m only saying I don’t think you’re going to get very far with a capable, take-charge woman like Lizzie by underestimating her.”
“What the hell? Who says I’m underestimating her? And who says I want to get somewhere with her?”
“Whoa, brother. You are really turned around about this, aren’t you?”
“Turned around? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Corey gave him another of those long, unreadable looks. “Why do I get the feeling that you’re about to put your fist in my face?”
Because I am, Ethan thought. Which was really all out of proportion to the situation, and he knew that. He dialed it back, going for a slow breath as he ordered his body to relax, take it easy. “Sorry. It’s late. I’ve got a lot on my mind and a bad case of jet lag, you know?”
Corey’s expression said he wasn’t buying Ethan’s excuses, but he let it go. “I hear you. Get a little sleep, okay?” He turned for the propped-open door to go back inside.
Ethan felt like a complete jerk bag—meaning worse than a jerk. More like a whole bagful of jerks. “Corey?”
Corey stopped in midstep, sent a glance over his shoulder. “Yeah?”
“I’m glad you found Erin. Congratulations, man.”
Corey smiled then. A real smile. “Thanks. I hope you work it out with Lizzie.”
What exactly did he mean by that?
Ethan decided he didn’t want to know.
Lizzie was up at seven, showered and dressed and ready to face the day by seven-thirty. She headed for the kitchen fully expecting to brew some coffee, grab some toast and be on her way, alone.
But as soon as she opened the door of her room, her nose told her the coffee was already made.
She entered the kitchen to find Ethan sitting at the table in the breakfast nook. He was freshly shaved and wearing boots, jeans and a casual shirt.
“I got the coffee going,” he said. He raised his full mug and took a sip. “I was beginning to wonder if you would ever get up.”
She made a face at him. But actually, she was pleased that he’d made the effort, and that she would have his company for the next few hours. “Want some eggs?”
“Do we have time?”
“Sure. Scrambled?”
“Great.”
She went to work on the food. It didn’t take long. She slid his plate in front of him and put the jam in the center of the table. Then she grabbed her own plate and sat down across from him. They ate in silence, fueling up for the morning ahead. He did look a little tired, she thought. There were shadows beneath his eyes.
“How much sleep did you get?” she asked, as she took their empty plates back to the sink.
“Enough.”
She sent him a glance. “Listen, I can manage the trip myself if you want to go back to bed.”
“I’m taking you.”
“But if you—”
He cut her off. “Look, I don’t want to go back to bed. I want to drive you. Got it?”
“Uh, sure. Got it.” She scraped the plates and put them in the dishwasher. “How was the party?”
“It was fine,” he said. His tone told her that the subject was closed, just in case she had any idea of trying to get maybe a sentence or two more out of him. So she left it alone.
A few minutes later, they climbed into Ethan’s SUV and were on their way.
In Bozeman, they spent about an hour each at the two restaurant supply places. After that, they visited a community co-op grocery, where there was also a deli. They had lunch there before moving on to their final stop, which was Safeway.
They were on the road back to Thunder Canyon at one-thirty. Lizzie was feeling really good about everything by then. Ethan had been sweet and helpful the whole trip. And she had managed to find everything she needed, which was a considerable relief.
At the house, Ethan helped her carry everything inside. When the back of the big SUV was finally empty and the granite counters in the kitchen were piled high with all she’d bought, he asked, “What else can I do?”
“Not a thing,” she told him. “You’re my favorite boss in the whole world and you have my undying gratitude.” She started emptying the bags—groceries first.
He came around the counter toward her. “I love it when you’re grateful.” He stopped inches away.
She could smell his aftershave, which was subtle and manly and whispered tastefully of money. Already, there was a shadow of dark beard on his sculpted cheeks. She paused with a flat of free-range eggs in her hands. “You know you’re directly between me and the fridge, right?”
“Oops.” He gave her one of his famous killer half smiles—and stayed where he was.
With a put-upon sigh, she eased around him and carried the eggs to the roomy side-by-side high-end refrigerator. When she shut the door and turned back to him, he hadn’t budged. He was still standing there, watching her. A shiver went through her, one way too much like the one she’d felt the day before, when they stood in the foyer together, after Erin and Erika left.
There were bags on every counter. She could so easily have just started on one of them—and steered clear of him. But that seemed downright cowardly somehow. What was the matter with her, anyway? Afraid to approach Ethan? Made no sense at all.
So she marched back around him and started on the next bag, hauling out a jar of cherry juice.
“Lizzie.” His big hand closed over her arm—zap. Like a light tap with a live electrical wire.
Seriously. This could not be happening.
She gritted her teeth and faced him. “What?”
“I’m leaving, don’t worry.” He spoke quietly now, in a low, burned-sugar voice. And he still had hold of her arm. In fact, he showed no inclination to let go. “I’ll get out of your way …”
By a sheer effort of will, she ignored the scary sensations that were zipping through her and muttered drily, “Promises, promises.”
“Just one thing …” His eyes were soft as kitten fur. Was he going to kiss her?
No way.
Gently, she eased her arm free of his hold and fell back a step.
There. Much better. She could breathe again. And the disorienting shivery feeling had passed. “Sure. What?”
“Tonight. The rehearsal dinner. I want you to come with me.”
She frowned. “But … I already bowed out on that one.”
“I know you did.” Now he was all eager and boyish and coaxing. “Change your mind. Come with me. Pete and my mom will be there. And my brothers and Rose. And Erin, of course. And Erika. They’re all crazy about you. It will be fun. And you can meet my cousins DJ and Dax, and their wives, Allaire and Shandie, and—”
“Ethan.”
He blinked. “Yeah?”
“Is there something … going on with you?”
Now he was the one stepping back. At last. “Going on? What are you talking about?”
“Are you, um, putting moves on me or something?”
His mouth dropped open. “What the hell, Lizzie? What makes you think that?” He looked totally stunned at the very idea.
Which wasn’t the least bit flattering and also made her feel like a complete idiot for even suggesting such a thing. Heat flooded up her neck. She just knew her whole face was as red as the jar of cherry juice she still clutched in her hand.
She set the juice on the counter and whirled away from him. “Um …” She pressed her eyes shut, hard, willing away her ridiculous blush as well as her own embarrassment at the whole situation. “Sorry. Never mind, okay? Just … forget I asked.”
His hands, warm and so strong, closed over her shoulders—and there it was again, that quivery, scary feeling. She wanted to sink right through the floor. He said gently, “Lizzie …”
She asked again, “What is going on with you, Ethan?”
“Nothing. Come with me to the rehearsal dinner.”
She shrugged off his hands and made herself face him once more. “Look, I have a lot on my mind and a lot to do, okay?”
“Well, I know. But you won’t start on the cake until, like, the middle of the night or something, right? And you’ve got everything you need now to get the job done. I just thought, you know, why not take a break, come out and see the family?”
He was right, of course. Now the problem of assembling equipment and ingredients had been solved, she could make it to that dinner, no problem.
But she still felt that he was up to something. Even if he wasn’t putting moves on her. “You have some kind of plan. That’s it, isn’t it? You think that if you’re relentlessly charming and helpful and drag me with you everywhere you go, I’m going to give in and decide I don’t need to open my bakery, after all.” She kept her gaze on his handsome face as she spoke. And she saw how he glanced to the side. Yeah, it was only for a second, and then he was meeting her eyes again. But that slight shift away was enough. She knew then that she’d hit the old nail square on the head. “Hah,” she said. “That’s it. That is exactly what’s going on with you.”
“No. Wrong. That’s not true at all.” His square jaw was set and his eyes flashed with annoyance.
“Don’t lie to me, Ethan. I know what you’re doing.”
“How do you know that? Next you’ll be claiming you can read my mind.”
“We have an agreement. That’s not going to change.”
“It might.” He smiled then. A slow smile. The smile of a man who never let anything stand in his way when he wanted something, a man used to getting what he wanted in pretty much everything eventually. “You never know.”
“Ethan, are you listening?”
“Of course.”
“I’ll say it slowly. I’m not going to the rehearsal dinner, thank you.” She exaggerated each word, just to make sure he understood.
He leaned against the counter and folded his muscular arms over his broad, deep chest. “And that proves … what?”
“I’m not trying to prove anything. I just don’t want to go. I want to unpack these groceries and relax, go to bed nice and early. I intend to make Erin’s cake spectacular. I consider it a point of professional pride.”
“We both know it will be great because you’re baking it.”
“Thank you.”
“Come on.” His voice was soft again. “You have to eat dinner …”
“And I will. Here. Quietly. Alone.”
“Oh, what? Like it’s some kind of … Zen thing?” Now he was razzing her, pure and simple.
She kept her voice level when she answered. “Yes, Ethan. Let’s call it a Zen thing—in fact, you can call it whatever you want. What you need to get through your head is that I’m not going with you to that rehearsal dinner.”
“What if I said I wanted you there for professional reasons?”
“Well, that would be a flat-out lie. And I would still say no.”
Those fine lips of his curled in what could only be called a sneer. “These are supposed to be my two months, remember? You’re supposed to be doing what I want when I want it.”
Now she was getting a little bit angry. “Suddenly, I’m your … indentured servant? Is that where you’re going with this?”
He made a sound in his throat. An embarrassed kind of sound. Good. He should be embarrassed. “Uh. No. No, of course not.”
“Well, great. Because being your slave is not going to work for me, Ethan. Even though you’re about the best friend I’ve got in the world, and I want you to be happy, I need to be happy, too. I like a challenge and I’m thrilled to go the extra mile and create this cake for your new sister-in-law. But I will not be dragged to that dinner just because it’s part of your campaign to make me change my mind about what I want to do with my life. Do you understand?”
He no longer lounged against the counter. He’d drawn himself up straight. And for a moment, he looked as if he might continue the argument. But he caught himself. He raked a hand through that thick almost-black hair and muttered, “Gee, Lizzie. I didn’t mean for you to get all het up.”
She drew a slow breath and forced a wobbly let’s-make-peace smile. “I’ll say it once more. I’m not going. And can we be done with this conversation now? Please?”
Something hot and angry flashed in his eyes, his real feelings breaking the surface—and then vanishing again as fast as she had glimpsed them. “Gotta go,” he said dismissively.
And he did leave, just like that. He went around her and strode out through the arch to the hallway. She longed to stop him, to try and settle things for good with him, to somehow put an end to this strange tension and unrest between them.
But at that moment, she didn’t see how to settle anything. She told herself that at least she’d held her ground on the issue of the rehearsal dinner, that she’d explained to him—for the umpteenth time—that she was moving on and there was nothing he could do about it.
She decided, for now, just to let it be.
The rehearsal at Thunder Canyon Community Church started at four. Afterward, they all headed for the resort and the dinner in the Gallatin Room, which was the resort’s best restaurant.
Ethan, as one of the groomsmen, attended both functions. At the dinner, he ended up with his big brother Dillon—the best man—on one side and his mom on the other. Both his brother and his mom asked him if something was bothering him.
He lied and said, “Not a thing,” picturing Lizzie’s obstinate face in his head, promising himself that one way or another, she was going to see the light within the next eight weeks and realize she loved her job with him and could never leave.
After the dinner, almost everyone wanted to call it a night to be fresh for the big day tomorrow. Not the twins, though. Jackson and Jason were raring to go. They had plans, plans that consisted of continuing the all-night bachelor party from the evening before. They headed down to the Hitching Post to listen to some live music and party some more.
Ethan went with them. Not because he was dying to party so much, but because he wasn’t ready to go home. Home was where Lizzie was.
And tonight, that didn’t seem all that welcoming a place.
Plus, he figured it wouldn’t hurt to keep an eye on his younger brothers. They could get rowdy. Since Dillon had gone home with Erika, and Corey said he needed a good night’s sleep because he was getting married the next day, that left Ethan to step up and keep furniture and glassware from getting broken. Not to mention that someone had to be the designated driver.
Jackson, especially, seemed intent on having himself the wildest weekend on record. He’d been blessedly silent for the toasts at the rehearsal dinner. But at the Hitching Post, he raised one full glass after another. He toasted the picture of the almost-naked lady over the bar. And he toasted man’s freedom from apron strings and fancy weddings. He flirted shamelessly with every pretty woman in the place.
Ethan also met more than one good-looking woman that night. He flirted, too, a little. Why not?
But he didn’t have the heart to ask a pretty girl if she might like to come on home with him. Since Lizzie had been making noises about quitting, he hadn’t felt much like hooking up. Sometimes in life, even for a guy who liked women a lot, there were more important things than sex.
When the Hitching Post closed at 2:00 a.m., Ethan managed to coax his two liquored-up brothers into his SUV. They rolled down the windows and sang stupid drinking songs all the way up Thunder Mountain to the resort. It was past three when he finally got them into their rooms and down for the night.
Back at his house, everything was quiet and dark.
Lizzie would be awake within the hour, he knew, to get going on the cake. He considered waiting up for her, maybe brewing her some coffee so it would be ready when she needed it.
Maybe making peace with her …
But in the end, he only shook his head and climbed the stairs to the master suite.
There would be no peace with Lizzie. He knew that. Not while she was so set on leaving him.
Lizzie was up at four, as planned, and got right to work. She didn’t see Ethan all morning. Apparently, it had been a long night and he was sleeping in.
Or maybe he was just avoiding her after their argument yesterday.
That was fine. She had a lot to do and no spare time for worrying about smoothing things over with him.
Everything went off without a hitch. She was putting the finishing touches on the decorations at one-thirty that afternoon.
The resort manager, Grant Clifton, was kind enough to send a van and a couple of big, strong guys to Ethan’s house to pick up the wedding cake. They arrived at two. With Lizzie supervising, the guys got the cake into the van. One sat in back to protect the cake against any possible mishap during the drive. Lizzie followed them up the mountain to the resort.
She breathed a huge sigh of relief when they got the cake into the ballroom and onto the cake table without serious incident. A few of the gerbera daisies looked wobbly, though. Lizzie was carefully straightening them—each one with its stem in a tiny separate tube of water—when the bride appeared.
Erin Castro let out a cry of sheer joy. “Oh, Lizzie! I swear, it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen!” She grabbed Lizzie in a hug.
Lizzie laughed and hugged her back. “I’m so glad it’s what you wanted.”
Erin hugged her harder. “What I wanted? It’s more than that. It’s … my dream cake.”
As resort staff bustled around them, getting the ballroom ready for the reception that evening, Lizzie and Erin stood side by side, their arms around each other’s waists, and admired Lizzie’s creation. It was really quite something, each graduated tier white and smooth as driven snow, draped in fondant flowers and edible pearls, crowned with the bright-colored daisies.
“Perfect,” said Erin.
“Good.” Lizzie nodded. “My job here is done.”
Erin turned to her again. “You know what? We really need you right here in Thunder Canyon.”
“Need me? For what?”
“Corey told me all about your family’s bakery in Midland. He said you’re planning to open a new bakery there.”
“Yes, I am.”
“Well, how about opening one here instead?”
Lizzie was flattered. “I’m honestly touched that you think I’d fit in here.”
“I don’t think it. I know it.” Erin turned and took both of Lizzie’s hands. “I’m only saying, you know, just consider it, give it some thought?”
It wasn’t going to happen. But then again, Lizzie was finding she really did like this charming mountain town and the people who lived in it. Why jump straight to an unqualified no? “Sure. I’ll think about it.”
“Great—and I’ve got to get moving.” Erin grabbed Lizzie in one last hug. “Hair. Makeup. It never ends. So … six?”
“I’ll be there. I can’t wait.”
Lizzie went back to the house, which she found empty.
Still no sign of crabby Ethan, which was fine. Until she figured out how to smooth things over with him, and make him see that he had to get real and accept that she was not giving up on her lifelong dream, well, there wasn’t much point in dealing with him anyway.
They would only end up getting into another argument.
She went to work cleaning up the kitchen. And when that was done, she took a long, lazy bath. She put a lot of straightening gel in her hair, blew it dry and took a long time with the flat iron. It turned out great, falling in soft waves to her shoulders, smoother and sleeker than she’d dared to hope. She also lingered over her makeup, getting it just right.
Her dress was a vivid royal blue, sleeveless, with a V-neck and a swingy hemline. She had gorgeous dressy blue sandals with very high heels to go with it and some fabulous chandelier earrings with cobalt-blue stones.
Lizzie was a realist. She was no great beauty and she knew it; her nose was too big, her jaw a bit too strong. Her maman had been petite and lovely. Lizzie, though, took after her tall, broad-shouldered dad.
“Stand up straight, ma chère,” her maman always used to say. “Be proud. There is no beauty like that of a tall, proud woman.”
Lizzie had always tried to take her mother’s advice to heart. Tonight, in five-inch heels, she would tower over a good portion of the men at the reception. So be it.
When she checked herself out in the full-length mirror on the back of her bathroom door, she felt totally satisfied with what she saw. She twirled in a circle and loved the way the hem of her blue dress swung out around her.
Yeah, she would definitely do. With a last wink at her own image, she hustled into the bedroom to grab her blue satin clutch.
The light tap came at her door just as she was about to open it. Her heart rate accelerated at the sound.
Sheesh. No reason to get all breathless and fluttery just because Ethan had decided to be a gentleman after all and not make her go to his brother’s wedding alone.
She pulled the door wide.
And there he was in all his gorgeous, manly splendor. Freshly shaved and showered, looking like a GQ cover model in a tux that must have cost a bunch. “Ready?”
She laughed and did a little twirl right there in the doorway and the dress swirled out around her like the petals of a flower. “What do you think?”
“You look terrific.” He said it in a grouchy tone, but somehow also managed to sound as if he actually meant it.
“Why, thank you. You’re not so bad yourself.” She reached for his arm. He surprised her and gave it, tucking her fingers companionably just below the crook of his elbow, over the rich, dark fabric of his jacket.
Yes, she felt that thrill again, the hot little shiver that formed at the point of contact and kind of quivered its way up her bare arm, leaving goose bumps in its wake. But it wasn’t so bad, really, now that she was getting used to it.
In fact, if she were honest with herself, she would have to admit that it felt kind of nice.
Wait. Scratch nice. It felt better than nice. It felt pretty wonderful.
It was the wedding of the year, everyone agreed.
Or at least, of the year so far.
Lizzie thought it was wonderfully romantic.
The handsome old, white clapboard church was decorated with thousands of bright summer flowers and every pew was full. Corey’s brothers and stepdad stood up with him. And Erin’s bridesmaids looked like summer flowers themselves, each in a different-colored bright satin gown. Erin was a vision in white as she floated down the aisle to meet her groom.
More than one sniffle could be heard from the pews during the exchange of vows. And an audible sigh went up when Corey finally kissed his bride.
The minister announced, “May I present to you Mr. and Mrs. Corey Traub.”
Lizzie, in a back pew, heard somebody down the row whisper, “Who’s that?” as the bride and groom turned to face their wedding guests.
“I don’t know,” was the murmured response.
Lizzie glanced over her shoulder to see a tall, lean man silhouetted in the open doors from the vestibule. He wore old jeans, a wrinkled shirt and a black Stetson with the brim dipped low, hiding his face, so that all she could see was a square jaw stubbled with beard.
More people were starting to whisper.
“What in the world …?”
“Never seen him before …”
There were rustling sounds everywhere as the guests turned to see what all the whispering was about.
The mystery man stepped back. He disappeared from the open doorway. And then Dillon Traub, the best man, came striding down the side aisle, slipping out after the stranger.
The organist started playing again and everyone faced front once more as the radiant bride and her handsome groom walked back up the aisle arm in arm.
The reception, in the flower-and-satin-bedecked resort ballroom, was fabulous, Lizzie thought. Dinner was served at eight.
Lizzie, as Ethan’s de facto date, was seated with him and the rest of the wedding party at the main table. Everyone made a point to greet her and tell her what a splendid job she’d done on the cake.
Ethan seemed to have put aside his frustration with her, at least for the evening. It was almost like old times, she thought, like back before she’d ever even hinted that she might be moving on. He joked with her and they shared the knowing glances they used to share all the time.
She realized she’d missed their friendship lately, during the pitched battle over her right to define her own future. She’d missed the way they laughed at the same things, the way they could look at each other and know what the other was thinking.
Right after the food was served, she heard Pete Wexler asking Dillon about the mystery man who’d appeared at the back of the church. Dillon said something about a very old and dear friend who was “going through a rough time.” Lizzie noticed the speaking glance Dillon shared with his wife. The look on Erika’s face said she knew exactly what was going on with guy in the black cowboy hat.
Lizzie waited for Pete to ask more questions.
But then Claudia, on Pete’s other side, put her hand over Pete’s and whispered in his ear. He turned to his wife. And the subject of the mystery man was forgotten.
Shortly after the exchange between Dillon and Pete, Ethan leaned close to Lizzie and said for her ears alone, “Help me keep an eye on Jackson, will you?”
“What’s up with him anyway?” she asked. Jackson looked as though he’d had way too much to drink, even though the evening was just getting started.
“Basically, he’s decided marriage is a crock,” Ethan told her. “And he’s been wasted pretty much straight through since Thursday night.”
“Charming,” she muttered, meaning it wasn’t. Jackson had always been something of a bad boy, but tonight he had the look of a man about to cause a ruckus. “I’ll watch him.”
“Thanks.” Ethan’s voice was velvet soft.
She looked into his deep, dark eyes and thought how a woman could drown staring in those eyes—well, some women anyway.
But not Lizzie.
Uh-uh. She loved Ethan dearly, but as a friend and nothing more.
Or so she kept telling herself ….
After the meal, before the toasts and the cutting of the cake, there was music. Corey led Erin out onto the floor in front of the long main table for their first dance as man and wife. Lizzie got a little misty-eyed just watching them; they looked so happy together.

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