Page 44 of One Sweet Match Up

He paused, his thoughts racing. Wait a second. Was there some correlation between the eggs he found in the purse and Zoe’s craving the first meal he’d ever made?

“Nah,” he said out loud.

Zoe’s eyebrows crinkled. “Nah, what?”

“Nothing.” Maybe it was something. He’d give that more thought later. Right now, he wanted to concentrate on the fact that he was having a great conversation that he never wanted to end. A quick check out the window indicated the snow was still falling.

Satisfied that they wouldn’t be going anywhere soon, he settled into the sofa. “My Grandma Foster told me if I was going to be a good husband I was going to have to know exactly how my wife liked her eggs. The omelette was the first thing she taught me how to make.”

“Smart woman,” Zoe said. “Did you know you wanted to be a chef as a kid?”

He thought about her question. “Yeah, I think I did. I mean, I wanted to be everything from a police officer to a scuba diver.”

“Scuba diver?”

“Rachel and I used to take our family’s boat out on the lake and pretend we were in the middle of the ocean. We had gear that we’d take and dive down to the bottom of the lake.” He chuckled. “Not exactly the Barrier Reef down there.”

“So, when did you know you wanted to be a chef?”

He thought about that question for a second. “Probably in high school. I had a job at Ralph’s Pizzeria when I wasn’t playing basketball. He was an excellent teacher. That Bolognese dish we had the other night, he taught me that.”

“No way!”

Wow. His heart galloped at her reaction. Glad his dish was memorable. Maybe there was hope in redeeming himself in her eyes yet. He nodded. “Yep. Ralph shared with me all of his Italian recipes from his grandmother. He’s a great teacher. Taught me also that there was more to being a good cook. You had to enjoy it. People can taste your enjoyment. There’s no faking that.”

“I completely agree. I’m never more satisfied than when I’ve created a frozen yogurt that I know people are going to love. It makes all the difference.”

“I’ve seen you in your glory.”

She cast him over a look of doubt. “You have? When?”

He moved his arm around the back of the sofa. “The night of the blizzard. I saw you.”

“Saw me where?”

Should he admit that he caught her celebrating? Why not? It wasn’t like he stood outside the door stalking her. He’d just been lucky enough to witness a moment that obviously meant something to her. “It was when I stopped by your shop. I saw you fist-pump the air.”

She offered a small smile and took another sip of her wine. “You saw that?”

“Yeah.” He noted the softness in her voice. Was she embarrassed? Maybe he shouldn’t have brought it up. “You looked pretty excited.”

“I was,” she admitted. “I’d finally nailed a recipe I’d been working on for months.”

“Care to tell me?” He chuckled, adding, “From one culinary genius to another.”

She brought her thumb and finger in between her lips, pretending to zip them. “It’s top secret until my summer launch at the fair.”

“The Buttermilk Falls fair?”

“Yes. I’ve signed up for a booth. I’m going to debut five new flavors there.”

“That’s great. People come for miles to experience the fair. Smart move to showcase your frozen yogurt there.”

“I hope so.” She tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “I need this to be a success.”

“I’m sure it will be, and I look forward to the big reveal.” Donovan took his last bite of the omelette. As far as nights stuck home went, this was by far the best one he’d experienced since moving in with Rachel. He reached for the wine bottle and refilled their glasses, finishing it off.

“So, what made you leave Denver?” Zoe asked, resting her empty plate on her lap.

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