Page 36 of One Sweet Match Up

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

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

“It didn’t?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He stepped into the empty store, glancing around.

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

No answer.

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

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

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

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

“I do.”

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

“What’s so funny?”

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

---