Page 5 of One Sweet Match Up

And he was a genius. What Donovan had done to that Bolognese pasta had been culinary magic. She knew she’d made the right decision to stay in Colorado and take a line cook job that paid less than peanuts but gave her the once-in-a-lifetime chance to work and study under renowned chef Donovan Foster.

What she didn’t know that night was that he’d fire her two days later.

“I’m sorry, we’re closed,” she said, grabbing a dishrag off the counter and avoiding eye contact. “Forever,” she muttered, under her breath while wiping down the counter.

“Are you Zoe?”

She whipped her head up.Now he knows my name. When did that happen? She set the wet rag down. “Hi, Donovan.”

His eyebrows knitted. “You know me?”

“Um . . . yes.” She was pretty sure her face was now displaying the same confusion that his read.

He crossed the shop and extended his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

She shook it, his cold, wet fingers sending a jolt straight through her. She immediately pulled her hand out of his.

Did he just say that it was nice to meet me?

You fired me, you pompous ass.They were well past polite introductions as far as she was concerned.

She peered out past him, watching the rapidly falling snow. She’d meant to call it a night and close up two hours ago, but she’d gotten caught up on perfecting her latest flavor of frozen yogurt that she’d been working on for months. A recipe she’d finally nailed only moments ago.

Funny how that celebration could be squashed at the mere sight of the man who’d shamed her culinary skills—and did it so publicly. The last time they were this close he was ripping her a new one, accusing her of glazing the governor’s plate with a peanut sauce—a near fatal move.

The popular Colorado politician and his wife had been dining with friends at the restaurant—their go-to place whenever they were in town visiting their son at college. The kitchen had been on high alert that the pair would be dining at the restaurant at some point over the weekend.

Zoe’s heart squeezed recalling the governor being rushed out of the dining room on a gurney by the paramedics and what had happened when an outraged Donovan had stormed into the kitchen and demanded to know who out of the twenty staff in the back did not follow his explicit orders.

When she raised her hand, Donovan’s fiery gaze could have easily skewered Zoe as he called her an incompetent, clueless, moron, before firing her on the spot and kicking her out of his kitchen.

Now, his beautiful blue eyes were far from displaying anger. “It’s late,” she finally said, looking away. “And I’m closed.”

Donovan didn’t make any motion to leave. “I don’t know if you know about Batter Up night . . .”

Of course.This must be the reason he stopped in. Rachel must have sent him. There were two people in this world who Zoe had been on the receiving end of their rage, and his sister happened to be the other one. Rachel had been ticked off at her ever since she learned that Adam had done the spell on Zoe and Will Jenkins’s first name showed up in the batter.

Zoe wasn’t an idiot, and she’d not only heard the gossip that Will and Rachel had been fooling around but had bumped into them on the street one evening after hours looking a little disheveled. “Look, you can tell Rachel that I have zero interest in Will Jenkins. He’s all hers.”

He flashed a smile, not taking his gaze off her. “Good to know.”

“Right.” Zoe stabilized her wobbly knees that were going to buckle any minute if he didn’t stop smiling. “I’m about to close.” She pointed pathetically at the door.

“I should let you get to it. You have a nice night, Zoe. Get home safe.” He crossed the shop and pushed the door open but glanced back. “I’ll see you around,” he said, before exiting the frozen yogurt shop and disappearing out into the night.

I’ll see you around. Zoe flew over to the door, turning the lock and leaning back against the glass.Oh my God.What the hell had just happened? Donovan had acted like he didn’t know her. Telling her to have a nice night and to get home safe was a far cry from the hostile name-calling he bestowed on her the night he fired her.

And to not even bring it up. Why was he pretending that they didn’t know each other?

She walked across the shop and grabbed her unfinished cup of yogurt off the counter, finishing the last couple of spoonfuls while pondering what had gone down only minutes ago.

Maybe he hadn’t recognized her. She flipped the spoon around and squinted her eyes, catching specs of blond strands in her reflection.

It was entirely possible since it had only been her third day on the job, and back then she’d sported long, brown hair that fell way down her back. It was only when she moved to Buttermilk Falls that Peggy at the Spring Curls beauty salon encouraged her to do something drastic and shorten it to just past her shoulders and go blond.

She’d never officially spoken to Donovan before that night because Marc, the other owner, had been the one who hired her. When Donovan had kicked her out of his kitchen, he’d called her everything but her first name, most likely because he didn’t know it.

She watched the snow steadily falling outside.

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