Repairing Her Heart

Businesswoman Celeste Thompson has one goal: to make her restaurant and hotel a success. She doesn’t need any distractions, even from handsome contractor Gage Purcell and his two adorable little girls. Besides, single dad Gage is just biding his time before a big job at the mines comes through. But as Celeste’s project springs to life, their arguments transform into attraction. Gage isn’t looking for romance, especially not with another career-driven woman like his ex-wife. But openhearted Celeste is more than just another work-consumed client. She might just be his happily-ever-after.

“Your mother told me you were leaving.”

As much as she loved her mother, Celeste just might have to wring her neck. “Why would she tell you I’m leaving?”

“Aren’t you afraid you’ll get bored? Then you’ll be stuck in boring little Ouray.”

“I happen to love boring little Ouray. Especially the boring part.”

“Oh, yeah?” He took a step closer, his stubborn stance mirroring her own.

“Yeah.” There was barely a hairbreadth between them. He was so close she could smell his soap, feel his breath on her skin.

Her heart raced as his eyes morphed into a deep sapphire and the muscle in his jaw relaxed.

She cleared her throat, dropping her hands to her sides. “Would it…matter if I left?”

His hands dropped, too. “The town would lose their best cook.”

“Oh.”

“Cassidy and Emma would miss you terribly.” His tone was gentle this time.

Caught up in the moment, she threw caution to the wind. She knew she was opening herself for heartbreak but went for it anyway. “And what about you? Would you miss me?”

It took MINDY OBENHAUS forty years to figure out what she wanted to do when she grew up. But once God called her to write, she never looked back. She’s passionate about touching readers with biblical truths in an entertaining, and sometimes adventurous, manner. Mindy lives in Texas with her husband and kids. When she’s not writing, she enjoys cooking and spending time with her grandchildren. Find more at mindyobenhaus.com.

A Father’s

Second Chance

Mindy Obenhaus

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Many are the plans in a man’s heart,

but it’s the Lord’s purpose that prevails.

—Proverbs 19:21

To the miners of the San Juans,

both past and present.

Acknowledgments

Thank You, Jesus, for using this lowly vessel.

Many thanks to Phil Martinez, longtime miner, for your willingness to share your knowledge.

To my amazing husband, Richard Obenhaus, with much appreciation for your love of history. Only one of the many things I love about you.

Becky Yauger,

I couldn’t have done it without you, girl.

Thanks to Ted and Betty Wolfe

and Brandy Ross for all of your help.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

Acknowledgments

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

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Perhaps love wasn’t a fairy tale.

Watching the bride and groom share their first dance, Celeste Thompson was taken aback by the longing that filled her heart. She’d never been one to entertain romantic notions. Yet she suddenly found herself wondering what it would be like to be in love. To share your life with someone. To give that person your whole heart.

Celeste froze, the long pearl-handled knife midway through another slice of wedding cake. She could never trust her heart to anyone. She laid the piece of raspberry-filled white cake on a plate. Precisely why she was the caterer, not the bride.

As the romantic ballad came to an end, her eyes again roamed the crowded, dimly lit reception hall in Ouray’s Community Center. From all appearances, Cash and Taryn were the epitome of forever and always. Yet how could anyone promise forever? People change. At least that was what her mother said. Countless times. Usually followed by a less-than-flattering remark about Celeste’s wayward father.

“Cake, please.”

Celeste glanced down to see small fingers gripping the edge of the lace-covered table. A pair of large sapphire eyes framed by white-blond curls peered up at her.

A smile started in Celeste’s heart, spreading to her face. “Well, hello there, sweet girl.” The child was adorable, her frilly lavender dress making her look like a princess. “You must be the flower girl.”

The little girl nodded, her mischievous grin hinting that she might not be as innocent as she appeared.

“Emma...” A man with dark brown hair and Emma’s same blue eyes sauntered toward them. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his tuxedo slacks and his loosened bow tie dangled from beneath the unbuttoned collar of his starched white shirt. Very GQ. Tall, dark... Of course, at five foot two, everyone seemed tall to Celeste. One of many reasons high heels were her best friend.

He stopped beside the child. “You’ve had enough cake, young lady.” His baritone voice was firm. Unyielding.

Emma frowned. Her bottom lip pooched out as she crossed her arms over her chest. “Cassidy had two pieces.”

“Your sister ate her dinner.” The man stared down at her, seemingly unfazed by the pathetic look.

“No fair.” The little girl stomped her foot.

He held his hand out to the child. “Let’s go see if we can find some more of that brisket. Then we’ll discuss cake.”

Emma’s lip quivered, her eyes welling with tears. Her face reddened and contorted in ways Celeste had never witnessed firsthand. Nonetheless, she recognized the markings of a tantrum. And, from the looks of things, this was setting up to be a good one.

Perhaps she could find a way to change the subject. She opened her mouth, but the man she presumed was Emma’s father held up a hand to cut her off.

“I’ve got this.”

Fine by her. After all, Emma was his daughter.

He dropped to one knee. “Emma, please. Not here.”

His plea was met with a loud wail.

Celeste bit back a laugh. Seemed the poor man had been through this before.

Pulling his daughter close, he begged her to stop crying. His tuxedo jacket was doing a fair job of muffling Emma’s sobs, still...he glanced up at Celeste, defeat and perhaps embarrassment marring his otherwise handsome features.

Surely there was something she could do.

Then again, Emma’s father had made it clear he didn’t need her help.

The child let out another cry. This time loud enough to be heard over the music.

People started staring.

Celeste couldn’t help herself. While she might not be an expert with kids, she’d quelled many an executive tantrum in the boardroom. Perhaps those tactics would come in handy now.

She wiped her hands on a napkin and rounded the table. Knelt beside the pair. “Emma?” She touched the baby-fine curls.

Emma hiccupped then slowly turned her head until her red-rimmed eyes met Celeste’s.

“Have you ever had a birthday party?”

The child nodded against her daddy’s chest.

“And all your friends and family were there?” She looked at Emma’s father, afraid he’d tell her to back off. Instead, he seemed to wait for his daughter’s reaction.

Emma nodded again, this time lifting her head.

Celeste continued. “Now, suppose one of your friends got mad and started crying at your party. How would that make you feel?”

The child’s eyes darted back and forth across the wooden floor. She wasn’t answering, but she wasn’t crying anymore, either.

“Would that make you sad?” Celeste offered.

Emma nodded, gnawing on her thumb.

“Well, this is Cash and Taryn’s party. You wouldn’t want to make them sad, would you?”

Emma shook her head, her eyes growing even bigger. “Tawyn’s my aunt.”

“I see.” She dared a glance at Emma’s father. He seemed to have relaxed, though he didn’t necessarily look happy. “Well then...” Her gaze shifted back to Emma. “You want to be a big girl for your aunt Taryn, right?”

Emma’s smile returned. She nodded once more.

Celeste pushed to her feet.

So did the child’s father.

She took hold of Emma’s hands and spread her arms wide. “Look at your pretty dress.” She let go of one hand and twirled the child with the other. “That’s a dancing dress if I ever saw one.”

Emma giggled, and Celeste didn’t know if she’d ever heard a sweeter sound.

“Now—” stopping, she smiled down at Emma “—do you think you can do what your daddy tells you?”

Emma nodded.

“Good girl. And then, maybe, if it’s okay with your mommy and daddy—”

“I don’t have a mommy.”

Celeste blinked, her cheeks growing warm at the child’s candor. “Oh. Well then...” She swallowed, her gaze flitting briefly to Emma’s father. “If it’s all right with your dad, I can send a piece of cake home with you for later. How does that sound?”

“Yay!” The little girl just about bounced out of her white patent leather shoes. She tugged her father’s hand. “Come on, Daddy. Let’s get some more bisket.”

“Brisket, sweetheart.” As his overzealous daughter pulled him toward the buffet table, he shot Celeste an irritated look. “Thanks for the help. But I can take care of my daughter.”

Celeste bristled. She hadn’t expected his praise, but she hadn’t expected him to be so rude, either. That’ll teach her to get involved.

Shrugging off the exchange, she watched the pair walk away. Emma obviously knew she had her father wrapped around her little finger. But did she have any clue how blessed she was to have a father who cared?

I don’t have a mommy.

Celeste ached for the child. And wasn’t there some mention of a sister?

She shook her head. A single dad with two daughters. No wonder the guy looked defeated. He didn’t stand a chance.

“Celeste?”

She turned as Erin, one of her part-time servers, approached.

“We’re down to crumbs on the brisket.”

“No problem. I’ve got another tray in the kitchen.” Celeste pointed to the cake. “You mind taking over?”

“Not at all.” Erin picked up the long knife as Celeste started toward the swinging door. “Sausage is running low, too.”

Celeste waved a hand in acknowledgment and continued into the community center’s small yet efficient commercial kitchen. The groom’s request for Texas barbecue seemed to be a hit with the guests. Good thing Granny had taught her the art of smoked meat. Building the catering side of Granny’s Kitchen was important to her bottom line. As were those old hotel rooms over the restaurant.

Donning her oven mitts, Celeste grabbed another foil-covered pan of meat from the oven. The smoky aroma wafted around her as she carried it into the main room. It had taken her all summer to decide how best to address the upstairs units, but she’d finally decided to convert the cluster of six tiny rooms into three large suites. All while remaining true to the building’s character and Victorian architecture.

She set the pan into the chafer, thinking of all the beautiful millwork throughout the upstairs space. The wide baseboards and detailed moldings...quality like that was hard to find these days. She could only pray God would lead her to the right contractor. One who didn’t cringe when she mentioned the word salvaging.

After replenishing the sausage, she topped off the grated cheese and bacon bits at the mashed potato bar, pleased that everything had turned out so well. Word of mouth was a powerful thing, especially in a small town like Ouray.

A popular tune boomed from the DJ’s speakers and people flooded the dance floor. Celeste paused to watch. Young and old, everyone appeared to be having fun. Including two little blond-haired girls in lavender dresses. Emma held her daddy’s hand, as did the other girl Celeste presumed was her sister.

Although she found Emma’s father to be a bit on the arrogant side, the adoring look on his face as he twisted and twirled his two precious daughters around the dance floor melted Celeste’s heart. His girls were obviously the center of his universe. And though they were without their mother, Celeste got the feeling that Emma’s dad was the kind of guy who would do whatever it took to be both mother and father. He would never desert them, like Celeste’s father had.

A sad smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Those two were lucky girls indeed.

* * *

Gage Purcell escorted his daughters, Emma and Cassidy, off the dance floor. In the year and half since his wife, Tracy, had left, Emma’s tantrums had grown more and more frequent. Maybe it was a coping mechanism. Maybe she blamed him for her mother’s absence. Whatever the case, he needed to find a way to make them stop.

The fact that a total stranger could settle his daughter better than he could had bugged him all night. Not that he wasn’t appreciative of the caterer’s intervention. The last thing he’d want to do is ruin his sister’s special day. Still...

He raked a hand through his hair, eager to call it a night. Dinner and dancing had gone on far longer than he anticipated, though the latter had afforded him some special moments with his daughters. But now that the bride and groom had made their exit...

“Time for us to think about going, too, girls. It’s way past my bedtime.” Gage wove his daughters between the round cloth-covered tables to retrieve their sweaters.

“But you go to bed after us, Daddy.” Seven-year-old Cassidy peered up at him with serious eyes.

“That is true. So it must be way, way, way past your bedtimes.”

“I’m not—” yawning, Emma leaned against a folding chair “—tired.”

He chuckled, knowing his youngest would likely crash before he even put his truck into Drive. Kneeling beside her, he held up her pink sweater. “But your old dad might fall asleep at any—” His eyes closed, he lowered his head and pretended to snore.

Emma giggled. “Wake up.” Her tiny hand nudged his shoulder. “Wake up!”

“What?” He jerked his head. “I must have dozed off.”

Emma shoved her arms into the sleeves of her sweater. “You’re silly.”

Turning his attention to Cassidy, he held up the purple sweater.

His oldest complied immediately, a dreamy smile lighting her face. “I loved this day.”

Standing, he donned his tuxedo jacket and stared down at his two beautiful girls. Their usually straight blond hair had been curled and pulled back on each side and their fingernails were painted the same pale purple as their dresses. “I guess you did. You look like little princesses. And you got to hang with the big girls.”

“That was the best part,” said Cassidy.

A twinge of guilt prodded Gage. With their mother out of the picture, the girls didn’t get to do many girlie things, so he was glad Taryn had included them in all the primping and pageantry that leads up to a wedding.

“Don’t forget the cake, Daddy.”

He should have known Emma wouldn’t forget. He could only hope the caterer didn’t.

Taking his daughters by the hand, he started across the hardwood floor.

“Hey there, Gage.” His old friend Ted Beatty, a shift supervisor at one of the mines outside town, walked alongside them.

Gage had been trying to get a job with a local mine since moving back to Ouray last year. So far, though, not one nibble.

“Whatcha know, Ted?”

“Not much.” He stopped.

So did Gage. He eyed the man who was a little older than his thirty-one years. A deep love of mining and its history had bonded the two from a young age.

“Any hiring going on?”

Ted shook his head, his lips pressed into a thin line. “Don’t give up, though, buddy.” He gripped Gage’s shoulder. “Things could change at any time.”

Easy for him to say. Ted had remained in Ouray, getting his foot in the door early when the first gold mine had reopened. Gage, on the other hand, had gone off to Colorado’s School of Mines for a degree in mining engineering. If only he’d hung around. Maybe he’d be following his dream instead of biding his time working construction.

“Daddy...what about the cake?” Emma squeezed his hand, bringing a smile to Gage’s face.

His girls were the reason he gave up his dream job in Denver and moved back to Ouray. He needed the support of his family. And he’d do it a thousand times over, whatever it took to provide a stable, loving environment for them. He only wished he could say the same for their mother.

He shifted his focus back to his friend. “We’re on a mission, but let me know if you hear anything.”

“Sure thing, Gage.”

Emma skipped alongside him as they continued on to the kitchen. He hoped she wasn’t getting a second wind. If that happened, they could be up all night.

He carefully pushed open the swinging door.

“Nana!” Both girls bolted toward a long stainless steel work table as his mother, Bonnie Purcell, stooped to meet them with open arms.

Behind her, the caterer moved aside and busied herself at the sink. But not before her deep brown eyes narrowed on him.

“Oh, my precious girls.” Mom embraced her granddaughters. “You were so good today.” She released them, smoothing a hand over her shimmering dress as she rose. “Gage, have you met Celeste?” His mother’s gaze drifted between him and the caterer, that matchmaking twinkle in her eye.

Man, Taryn hadn’t been married but a few hours and his mother had already set her sights on him.

Well, she could try all she wanted, but Gage wasn’t going down that road again. He was a failure at marriage and had no intention of setting himself or his daughters up for another heartbreak.

“Not officially.” The caterer grabbed a towel from the counter. Chin jutted into the air, she held out a freshly dried hand. “Celeste Thompson. Nice to meet you.”

Recalling the irritation that had accompanied his parting words earlier in the evening, he reluctantly accepted the gesture. “Likewise.”

Long, slender fingers gripped his with surprising strength.

“Celeste was telling me that she’s looking for a contractor to do some renovations in the space above her restaurant.” Mom fingered Cassidy’s soft curls, her attention returning to the caterer. “Gage has quite an eye for detail.”

“Well, it just so happens that I’m a detail kind of girl. I’m very particular about how things are done.” Her smile teetered between forced and syrupy. “But, if you think you can handle it, you’re welcome to come by and look things over.”

“Oh, don’t be silly.” Mom took hold of his daughters’ hands. “Gage can handle just about anything.” She beamed at Celeste first, then Gage. “Come on, girls. Let’s go say good-night to Papa.”

The trio stole through the door, leaving him alone with the caterer. Talk about awkward.

She stepped toward the counter and retrieved a disposable container. “Here’s the cake I promised Emma. I included enough for you and her sister, too.”

He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, but accepted the package anyway. “Cassidy.”

“I’m sorry?”

“My other daughter is Cassidy. I’m sure she will appreciate the cake every bit as much as Emma and me. Thank you. And...” He forced himself to meet her gaze. “Thank you for helping me out earlier.”

“You’re welcome.” Her golden-blond hair was slicked back into a long ponytail. Save for one wayward strand, which she promptly tucked behind her ear. Her expression softened. “Look, I realize that was kind of an uncomfortable situation with your mother.” She peered up at him with eyes the deep, rich color of espresso. “If you’d like to drop by and check out the project, great. However, I understand if you don’t have time.”

She was actually giving him an out?

He hadn’t expected that.

Unfortunately, his finances dictated he not turn down a job. “How about Monday at two?”

Chapter Two

Get in, and get out.

Gage slammed the lid on the aluminum storage box in the bed of his pickup. He really wasn’t interested in meeting with Celeste Thompson today. True, his project at the Schmidts’ was drawing to a close, and he didn’t have anything else on the books, but he was fairly certain that the type of work Celeste wanted was not going to match up with the kind of work he specialized in.

A breeze rustled the golden leaves of an oak in the Schmidts’ front yard. Their Queen Anne-style house, with its sprawling porch on the west side, had been one of his favorites long before they hired him to renovate the first-floor bathroom. He loved all the old buildings in Ouray. Appreciated the architecture and intricate details that made them grand. Restoring them was his forte. But he’d encountered one too many city dwellers who didn’t see the value in “old stuff.” They were only interested in removing the old and making everything modern.

That was like tearing out the heart of a home. Something he could not—would not—do.

He climbed into the cab of his truck, eyeing the burnt-orange landscape that spread up the mountainsides. He supposed it wasn’t fair to judge Ms. Thompson based on the actions of others, but she definitely fit the demographic—young urban professionals trading everything for the good life in Ouray, Colorado. What they failed to realize was that while life was indeed good in Ouray, it could also be tough. Many people worked two or three jobs, unless they owned their own business. In that case they had only one job to which they were on call 24/7. Which was why so many people threw in the towel after only one season.

Celeste might be a good cook, but did she have the guts, the tenacity, to embrace Ouray and its oft-difficult way of life? Not to mention its historic architecture.

He fired up the engine and dropped it into gear, deciding he’d find out the latter soon enough.

Heading toward Main Street, he rolled down the windows to take advantage of the mild autumn air. Who knew how many more days they’d have like this? The thirteen-and fourteen-thousand-foot peaks that surrounded the tiny town were already topped with white.

A few blocks down Main, he pulled into a parking spot across from Granny’s Kitchen. The place had changed hands several times over the past twenty-some years, but he still remembered it as the Miner’s Café. The owner, Mrs. Ward, used to make the best cinnamon rolls he’d ever tasted.

He hopped out of the truck and ambled across the street to the two-story brick and stone Victorian building. Seemed like he’d heard someone mention that Celeste was Mrs. Ward’s granddaughter. If that were true, maybe he’d find cinnamon rolls on the menu.

Opening the right half of the wood and glass double door, he was greeted by the most amazing aroma. A colorful dry-erase board to his left boasted tonight’s special—Granny’s pot roast with onions, carrots and homemade smashed potatoes.

His mouth watered, the two bologna sandwiches he’d had for lunch a distant memory. He inhaled deeper. Yep, that was pot roast, all right.

Above the menu, a double row of iron hooks lined the wall. Part function, part decor, they were currently home to a well-worn cowboy hat, a fedora that had seen better days and a faded denim jacket.

“Welcome to Granny’s Kitchen.” Behind the wood-topped counter to his right, Ms. Thompson slid a tray of cookies into a glass case. Her blond hair was again pulled back in a ponytail, her smile easy and relaxed.

“Nice place you have here.” He scanned the almost-empty restaurant. Lace curtains covered the lower half of the front windows, adding privacy to the row of wooden booths, while a Texas flag and some old mining pieces adorned the back wall. All in all, the place was warm and homey.

“Thank you.” She started to close the case, then paused. “Care for a chocolate chip cookie? They’re still warm.”

He eyed the treats, his stomach growling. “Sure.” He reached for his wallet.

She waved him off, though. “It’s on the house.” Using a small wax paper sheet, she grabbed a cookie and passed it over the counter.

As promised, it was warm. Not to mention loaded with pecans and some of the biggest chocolate chips he’d ever seen.

He took a bite, savoring the melted chocolate that mingled with a hint of cinnamon. “Delicious.” Even better than his mother’s. Not that he’d ever admit that to her.

Celeste’s smile sparkled in her deep brown eyes. “I do my best to live up to Granny’s reputation.”

“Hello, Gage.”

He turned as the door closed behind Blakely Lockridge, owner of Ouray’s finest Jeep tour company, Adventures in Pink. “Hey, Blakely.”

His sister’s best friend moved toward the counter, a hand resting on her very pregnant belly. “I see Celeste has lured you in with her amazing cookies.” She wriggled onto the bar stool beside him, looking like an overinflated party balloon about to pop.

Considering Blakely was down to her last month, her cheerful disposition was a welcome surprise. Tracy, his ex-wife, had been miserable throughout her pregnancies. And never hesitated to let anyone know it.

“You’re right on time, Blakely.” Celeste pulled another cookie from the case. “They just came out of the oven.” She handed it to Blakely. “How are you feeling?”

“Pretty good. The wedding wore me out, but Trent doted on me all day yesterday.” She took a bite. “Yum. Did you add more pecans this time?”

“I did.” Celeste rested her forearms on the counter.

“This is perfect.” Blakely closed her eyes and took another bite. “Just the way I like them.”

Gage had to agree. His mother usually left out the nuts, but he preferred them. “Sounds like you’re a regular customer.”

“Are you kidding?” Blakely smiled up at him. “I’ve been craving Celeste’s cookies and cinnamon rolls for the past three months.”

His head jerked toward Celeste. “You make cinnamon rolls?”

“Every morning. Just like Granny did.”

“I used to love your grandmother’s cinnamon rolls.”

“Guess you’ll have to stop in and try one then.” She regarded Blakely again. “Would you like another?”

Blakely held up a hand. “No, I need to get back to the shop and finish up some stuff before Austin gets out of school.” She slid off the stool.

“Speaking of school—” he caught Celeste’s attention “—we need to get started.”

“Yes.” She peered over the stainless steel pass-through into the kitchen. “Karla, I’ll be upstairs for a little bit, so keep an eye on things, please.”

“What are you guys up to?” Blakely waddled toward the door.

“Gage is here to take a look at the space upstairs.” Celeste removed her apron as she rounded the eating counter and dropped it on one of the chairs.

She looked far too dressed up for a diner. He expected casual. But the navy slacks and tailored button-down shirt were more like business casual. He did a double take. Heels? Women didn’t wear heels in Ouray.

“Ah, so you finally decided what to do with it?” The two women continued on ahead of him and outside.

“I did. Now I’m eager to get the ball rolling.”

Blakely eyed him. “Well, I can tell you that Gage is the best. He did some work on our house and we couldn’t be more pleased.”

Celeste smiled and nodded. “Guess we’d better have a look then.” She turned toward the stairs that flanked the side of the building. “See you tomorrow, Blakely.”

He followed Celeste up the old iron staircase. “So is this the only entrance to the space?”

“Yes.” She unlocked the door and stepped inside. “I’ve tried to air it out, but it still has that musty smell.”

“Let’s hope it’s not from water damage.” The barely-there foyer was dark and drab, the only light coming from the small window on the door. “Might want to see if we can bring some more natural light in here. Maybe a door with a larger window and some sidelights.”

“I was thinking the same thing.” Celeste flipped a switch and fluorescent lights hummed down the narrow hallway that spread to the right and left.

He admired the flat-panel wainscoting with bead board insets, certain that beneath the yellowed white paint lay some incredible hardwood. The vintage wallpaper above the wainscoting, though, had definitely seen better days.

“Currently, there are six bedrooms and two baths.” She moved down the hallway to the left, opening doors as she went. “My grandparents used it as a bed-and-breakfast.”

He peered into the first bedroom, which was big enough only for the full-size bed and small dresser it housed. However, the fluted window trim and rosettes were a welcome sight.

“Here’s the first bathroom.” She opened a door on the right. “I love the claw-foot tub.”

“Do you plan on reusing it?”

“Absolutely.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I want to salvage and reuse whatever possible. So—” her eyebrows lifted in a defiant manner “—if your idea would be to gut the whole place and start fresh, we can call this meeting over.”

* * *

Call her cynical, but Celeste had no intention of wasting time on another contractor who didn’t see eye to eye with her about preserving the character of this space. Ouray’s ice festival was only three months away. She’d hoped to have the units ready to lease by then. But by no means was she going to settle for some contractor who didn’t give a hoot about the building’s history. She knew what she wanted, and she had every intention of getting it.

Gage removed his worn Ouray Mountain Rescue Team ball cap and scratched his head before tugging the brim back in place. “You do realize this building is over a hundred years old?”

“Part of the appeal.”

“That the electrical and plumbing will have to be brought up to code? That can get expensive.”

She took a step closer. “I’ve done my research. However, there are some things I refuse to compromise on.” She smoothed a hand over the wide molding around the door. “Like the millwork. Any fixtures that can be reused or repurposed.”

“You mean like those?” He pointed to the horrendous fluorescent strips overhead, a smirk firmly in place.

She brushed past him on her way to the door. “If you don’t have an appreciation for old buildings and what they have to offer, then I’ll find another contractor who does.”

“I never said I didn’t have an appreciation.”

She paused in the foyer and slowly turned to face him. “You didn’t have to. Your cavalier attitude said it for you.”

Hands resting low on his denim-clad hips, he stared at her with an intensity she hadn’t seen before. “Actually, historic buildings are my specialty. I don’t believe in wasting, and I’m adamant about remaining true to the architecture.”

“You—?”

“Which is why I was quizzing you.” He closed the distance between them in only a few steps. “Many people like the idea of a historic building until they find out the cost and time involved. Then they take the easy way out—gut it and start new.” He glared at her, his blue eyes darkening to a deep midnight.

Squaring her shoulders, she fixed her gaze on his. “Lucky for you, I’m not one of those people.”

“Good. Then it sounds like we’re on the same page.” He turned his back to her and wandered down the hall. “If you don’t mind, I’ll have a look at everything, take some notes and then I need to pick up my daughters.”

She followed him. “I believe you’re forgetting something.”

“What’s that?”

“I haven’t told you about my vision.”

He twisted her way. Quirked a brow. “Your...vision?”

“For the new layout. It took me six months to come up with it, but I think it’ll work.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

Even the most challenging executives hadn’t irritated her this much. “Do you plan to fight me every step of the way?”

“No. However, when you’re dealing with plumbing and load-bearing walls, you have to be flexible. But, go ahead.”

“Thank you. As I was saying...” Over the next fifteen minutes, she did her best to verbalize the image she saw in her mind.

Gage asked questions and voiced concerns. Even made a few suggestions she found difficult to argue with.

“I have a drawing I could give you.” She waited by the main door.

“That would be helpful.”

She tilted her head to look at him as he rounded the corner. “Just so you’ll know, I plan to be heavily involved in this project. I don’t want anything to go wrong.”

“Neither do I.” He looked over his notes. “So if you’ll give me your drawing, I will be out of your hair.”

She studied him a moment. Despite Gage’s appreciation for the architecture, not to mention Blakely’s glowing recommendation, Celeste wasn’t convinced he was the right contractor for her. How could she work with someone who didn’t value her opinion?

Then again, if she wanted these units up and running by January...

“It’s in the restaurant.” She pushed open the door and stepped onto the small landing. The sun and fresh air were a welcome respite from the stale, musty smell of the long-closed-up space. She continued down the stairs. “When can I expect your quote?”

He followed behind her. “A day or two. Depends how cooperative my girls are.”

She could hear the smile in his voice when he mentioned his daughters.

“How old are they?” She faced him as they reached the sidewalk.

“Seven and five.”

“Busy ages. I guess they keep you on your toes.”

He chuckled, holding the door as she walked inside. “You have no idea.”

She retrieved a copy of her drawing from the small office beside the stockroom, remembering the sight of Gage dancing with his daughters. Must be difficult, trying to be both parents and run a business. She couldn’t begin to imagine. Though she was curious. What would it be like to have a family? Children? Someone who looked up to you and hung on your every word?

We aren’t cut out to be mothers, Celeste. She always found it odd when her mother said those words. As though she were apologizing or making excuses. Still, Celeste understood what her mother was saying. Her mother wanted to give her the world. At least the world as Hillary Ward-Thompson saw it.

Shaking off the conflicting thoughts, Celeste returned to the dining room and handed Gage the file folder. “Would it be all right if I sent cookies for Emma and Cassidy?”

“Oh, man...they’d love that.”

She bagged the treats for him.

“What’s this?” He pointed to a stack of fliers she had beside the cash register.

“Now that the high season is over and things have slowed down, I thought I’d offer some kids cooking classes.”

The look he gave her made her think she’d sprouted horns. “In my experience, kids and cooking don’t always go together so well.”

Considering Emma’s actions the other night, she could understand his skepticism. Though the thought of Emma’s mischievous grin made her smile.

“Well, they’re not exactly cooking classes.” She picked up one of the orange fliers and gave it to him, along with the cookies. “Our first one is called Cupcake Mania. We’ll provide the cupcakes and icing, and then each child gets to design four custom cupcakes to take home.”

“You’re talking Emma’s language, all right.” He studied the paper. “Both girls would be gaga over this.”

“Good. I hope you’ll consider signing them up, then.”

He turned for the door, grabbed hold of the handle. “I’ll be in touch.”

She watched as he continued past the front windows. How could someone be so infuriating yet so appealing? Gage’s disposition left much to be desired. However, the way his face lit up when he talked about his daughters was enough to have women swooning all over Ouray.

Donning her apron, she went to check things in the kitchen. “Are the potatoes on yet?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Karla, the closest thing Celeste had to an assistant, looked up from the apples she was peeling for tonight’s dessert and pointed to the proofing cabinet along the wall. “And the rolls should be ready to go in the oven any time.”

“Perfect.” Celeste pushed up her sleeves and headed for the pastry table to roll out the crusts. “Thanks for taking care of that for me, Karla.”

“Not a problem.”

Celeste’s cell vibrated against her hip. She pulled it from her pocket, hating the sense of dread that fell over her when she saw her mother’s name on the screen.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Celeste, darling. How are you?”

“Wonderful.” She sprinkled flour over the table’s marble surface.

“You don’t sound wonderful. You sound tired.” Hillary Ward-Thompson always thought Celeste sounded tired.

“Mom, I’m very well rested.” She slept a thousand times better in Ouray than she ever even dreamed of in Fort Worth. “So where are you today?”

“Istanbul.”

She balanced the phone between her ear and shoulder. “Hey, if you happen to make it to the Bazaar, pick me up some spices.” Of course, her mother rarely did any sightseeing. She was all business, all the time.

“Or you could hop a plane and join me. That way you could pick out your own spices.”

Realizing where this conversation was headed, Celeste wiped her hands on a bar towel and wandered into her office. “You know I can’t do that, Mom. I have a business to run.”

“Celeste, you and I both know a restaurant— especially one in a tiny little place like Ouray—is not where you belong. I didn’t bring you up to be slinging hash in some greasy spoon.”

She paced beside her desk. Since moving here in April, her conversations with her mother were always the same. Celeste knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Ouray was part of God’s plan for her. Though it definitely was not a part of her mother’s plan. “I do not sling hash, nor is Granny’s Kitchen a greasy spoon.”

“Oh, now you’re getting defensive. I’m sorry, darling.”

“You’re criticizing my livelihood.”

“I am not criticizing, Celeste. I’m merely stating facts.”

Stay calm. Don’t let her get to you. “You haven’t even seen my restaurant.”

“Are you forgetting that I grew up in that restaurant? I know what it’s like.” Mom’s last sentence held a hint of disdain. She paused for a moment before forging on. “By the way, I ran into Andrew Hemsworth from Golden Triangle Finance the other day. I was telling him all about you and he has a position that would be perfect for you.”

“Mom...I’m not interested in any position. I have my own business. I’m happy where I’m at.”

“Celeste, you might think you’re happy, but you haven’t even been through a winter in Ouray.”

“No, but I can’t wait. I love snow.”

“Hmmph.”

Celeste took a deep breath and stared at the mountains outside the window. Twin Peaks, was it? She had yet to learn the names of all the summits, but just the sight of them made her frustration wane. “You’ve got to let this go, Mom. I’m not you. I have to live my own life.”

“I know, darling. I just want you to be happy.”

Hadn’t they just been over this? “I am. Happier than I’ve been in years.”

“If you say so.” A moment of silence passed. “Well, I must run. It’s late, and I have meetings all day tomorrow.”

Celeste knew better than to think her mother was complaining. Mom thrived on those meetings, mostly because she was the one in control. Not to mention good at what she did. Magnet Oil would be lost without her.

“Good night, Mom.”

“Good night, darling. Love you.” The sound of kisses filtered through the line, just as when she was a little girl.

“I love you, too.” Celeste ended the call, her gaze focusing on a worn piece of paper tacked to the bulletin board over her desk.

Follow your dreams. The word your was underlined.

After Granny’s stroke, she couldn’t walk or talk, so when Celeste went to see her, she’d talk enough for the both of them. She’d talk about work and her dislike thereof, the promotion she was up for, but really didn’t want. And she’d talk about her dreams. How she longed to escape the big city and find a simpler way of life. A life she could enjoy and call her own.

Apparently Granny’s mind had fared better than her body. Because, somehow, she’d managed to scrawl those three words.

Celeste would never forget the look of urgency in her grandmother’s eyes when she tucked the note into Celeste’s hand. As though it were the most important document in the world.

Perhaps it was.

Since coming to Ouray, the headaches that used to be Celeste’s constant companion were history. She looked forward to getting up every morning, no matter how early, because each new day meant she got to do something that she loved.

Yes, Ouray was where she belonged. And she was determined to make this work. Even if she had to work with a cranky Gage Purcell.

Chapter Three

Celeste was getting used to not seeing her condo during daylight hours. Most days she left before the sun came up and returned long after it had gone down. Still, it was home, decorated just the way she liked it. And since it was only two blocks from Granny’s Kitchen, her Mustang convertible spent most of the time tucked safely in her garage.

She hugged herself tighter, the gravel road crunching beneath her every step. Tonight seemed particularly chilly. Perhaps it was time to start thinking about wearing something heavier than her jean jacket. Luckily, with the help of Taryn and Cash and their store, All Geared Up, she had a couple of great options hanging in her closet.

By the time her frozen fingers managed to shove the key into the lock of her trilevel condo, Celeste was ready for a hot bath. Her toes were frozen inside her black wedge pumps. Maybe she’d surf the internet tonight for some cute boots. They’d have to be wedges, though. With gravel streets and so many hills, it didn’t take her long to figure out that any other type of heel was not practical in Ouray.

She climbed the first set of stairs to the main floor, flipped on the light and tossed her jacket over the arm of the leather love seat before continuing on to the third-floor master bedroom. As water filled the jetted bathtub, she contemplated her meeting with Gage. Attitude aside, the man did seem to know what he was doing. But what if that expertise cost more than she was willing to pay? She’d set a budget. She just hoped it was enough.

I’ll be the judge of that. It still irked her, the way he seemed to enjoy challenging her. Then again, she wasn’t used to being challenged. She was used to calling the shots. Giving people the information they needed in order to achieve the results she wanted. So if Gage had a problem with that, well...she’d be forced to resort to Granny’s method—ply ’em with food. Good food and lots of it.

After a much-needed soak, she padded down to the kitchen in her fuzzy pajamas for a cup of chamomile tea.

“Eww.” She set the kettle on the burner, her nose wrinkled. What was that smell? Following the trail of the offending odor, she located its source—the kitchen trash can. Next time she threw away chicken bones, she needed to discard the bag sooner.

She tugged the trash bag out from the wastebasket and cinched it closed as she started down the stairs to the garage. Note to self—buy an air freshener.

A sound echoed inside the garage as she opened the door. Like breathing. Heavy breathing.

She laughed off the notion, though. This was Ouray, not Fort Worth.

Flipping on the light, she took a step inside and froze. Two weeks’ worth of trash was strewn everywhere.

“Oh. My.” The breathing hadn’t been her imagination.

No doubt smelling the chicken in the bag she carried, the furry black creature turned toward her and snorted.

Panic coursed through her veins. Her hands shook, rustling the bag.

The monster pushed up on its hind legs. Its claws were humongous. Then it roared.

“B-b-bear!” She dropped the bag and rushed back into the house, closing the door behind her. Leaning against it, she could hear the animal on the other side as it ravaged the bag she’d held only a second ago.

What if it got in the house?

She locked the door.

Like that was going to stop him. With those claws, it could probably smash right through the door. She had to get out of here.

Her neighbors. They’d know what to do.

She bolted out the front, across the cold, damp grass, and banged on their door. No answer.

Stepping back, she stared at the darkened house. Only then did she remember the Jacksons were out of town.

She looked around. The house across the street was all lit up. She hadn’t met the people before, but this seemed like as good a time as any.

Gravel cut into her bare feet as she crossed the road, but that was nothing compared with what that bear would do if it got ahold of her.

She stumbled up the front steps and knocked on the storm door. Her breaths were coming quick. Too quick. Funny, she’d always been one to remain calm in a crisis. But the sight of those fangs just a few feet from her...White spots darted through her vision.

The door jerked open and Gage Purcell gawked at her as if she was a madwoman.

Then everything went black.

* * *

Celeste awakened to find three pairs of blue eyes staring down at her.

She leaped to her feet. Eyes wide, she took in the unfamiliar surroundings—the dollhouse against the wall, the pile of unfolded laundry at one end of the dining table, the two blonde girls watching her every move. “Where am I?”

“In our living room.” Gage folded his arms across his chest, his white T-shirt revealing rather large biceps. Couple that with the five-o’clock shadow lining his jaw and he looked like he belonged in a men’s cologne ad. “You passed out on our porch.”

“I—I did?” She struggled to remember.

“Yes. So I suggest you sit back down. At least until you can get your bearings.”

She returned to the tan sofa without argument, her head swimming. “Why was I—?” Then she remembered. “The bear. He—he...how long was I out?”

“A couple minutes.” Gage’s brow wrinkled as he took a seat in the rocker recliner opposite her. “What bear?”

“In my garage.”

“I wanna see the bear.” Emma plopped beside Celeste.

Her arm instinctively went around the child’s shoulders. “Not this bear, sweetie. He was huge. And his teeth...” She shuddered.

Gage leaned back, crossing one ankle over the other knee. “Ah, it’s not uncommon for bears to come wandering into town.” His tone was annoyingly nonchalant. “Especially this time of year. Food sources are getting scarce up in the mountains.”

She glared at him, her teeth clenched. “It was in my house.”

“Perhaps you left your garage door open.”

She sent him an incredulous look. “Now, why would I do that? Besides, it hasn’t been opened in weeks.”

“I meant the back door. As I recall, that whole row of condos—” he pointed in the direction of her house “—has doors on the back of the garage.”

“I don’t know when I would have opened it. It’s been a while since I’ve even been in there.”

“Maybe it wasn’t latched properly. The wind probably blew it open.”

“That doesn’t negate the fact that there’s a bear in my garage!”

He leaned forward, rested his forearms on his thighs. “Do you have an electric garage door opener?”

“Yes.”

“How do you open it?”

“The remote’s in my car. There’s also a keypad by the garage.”

“That’s just what I was hoping.” He pushed to his feet, wearing a satisfied smile. “All you have to do is open the garage door. The bear will leave, and we can all get a good night’s sleep.”

She practically had to pick her jaw up off the floor. “What are you? Some kind of nut?”

One dark brow lifted.

“What if the bear comes after me once he leaves the garage?”

“He won’t, because you’ll be waiting inside the house. Once the bear’s gone, you shut everything down.”

She rubbed her arms, barely believing what she’d just heard. She couldn’t go back over there. Not with that monster on the loose.

Gage raked his fingers through his short hair and let go a sigh. “What’s the code?”

“Code?”

“For the keypad.”

“You mean you’ll—”

“Just as soon as you give me the code.”

She chewed her bottom lip. “Um...”

“Great. You don’t know it, do you?”

“I do. I just have to remember what it is.” She focused on the rustic coffee table littered with cups, papers and crayons.

“Well, if you want that bear out of your house, I suggest you remember.”

“I will.” She tugged Emma closer, rubbing the soft sleeve of the child’s flannel nightgown. “But, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m a little freaked out.” A feeling she definitely wasn’t used to.

He shoved his bare feet into a pair of boots that were next to the door. “By the way, girls, this is Celeste. Celeste, Cassidy—” he motioned to the oldest girl, who sat in the second chair “—and you remember Emma.”

The child beside her grinned.

“I like your princess pajamas.” Cassidy sent her a shy smile.

Celeste’s head dropped in dismay as she surveyed her attire. Being caught in her pajamas was bad enough, but to have Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella and Snow White emblazoned on the front was downright humiliating. Not to mention the pink and blue hearts all over the fleece bottoms.

“5-9-2-7.” She jerked her head up.

Gage took a step closer. “Come again?”

She repeated the numbers, slower this time.

“Is your front door open?”

“Yes. But...what if he doesn’t leave?”

“He’ll leave. I guarantee you startled him every bit as much as he startled you.”

“I doubt it,” she said under her breath.

He reached for the door. “Girls, you need to get back in bed.”

Only then did Celeste realize that her theatrics had probably woken them.

Emma followed him. “But, Daddy, we wanna see the bear.”

As much as Celeste wanted to see the bear, too, if only to reassure herself that he was indeed gone, she knew she’d upset their routine. And since tomorrow was a school day...

“Sorry, Emma.” Celeste stood. “It’s late and you have school in the morning.” She laid a hand on the child’s shoulder. “You need to do what your Daddy says.”

The frowns on their faces nearly ripped her heart out. How did Gage ever discipline them?

“How about I read you a story?”

That seemed to turn their frowns upside down.

“Night, Daddy.” Cassidy hugged him first, quickly followed by Emma.

As the two girls started down the hallway off the living room, Gage opened the door.

“I’ll try to have them settled before you get back,” Celeste said.

He nodded. “Good.” Then closed the door behind him.

* * *

Gage tromped across the street to the condo he hadn’t seen anybody go into or out of in recent months. Ouray was a small town. But what were the odds that Celeste would live right across the street from him?

Roughing a hand over his face, he glimpsed the starry sky. He was never going to get the girls to sleep. They were beyond wired tonight, probably from the cookies Celeste gave them. Which meant he could forget about finishing that quote. Or the laundry. Or anything else, for that matter. And he didn’t even want to think about the challenges he’d have waking them up tomorrow morning.

He frowned as he approached the well-maintained condo. If he accepted this project with Celeste, would she bang on his door at all hours of the night, telling him how to do his job?

Surely she wouldn’t.

Would she?

Not unless she found another bear in her garage.

He’d never forget the sight of her standing on his front porch, her long blond hair piled precariously on top of her head, eyes big as saucers...right before she passed out.

Not quite the tough facade he’d seen this afternoon. When he carried her inside, she’d looked so...small. Fragile. And smelled of vanilla.

Chucking the annoying thought, he lifted the lid on the remote keypad and punched in the numbers Celeste had given him. He should be at home, making sure Emma and Cassidy were in bed. Not catering to some city girl. He’d done enough of that with Tracy.

Light spilled from the garage as the door began its ascent. Gage stepped inside the front door, only to discover the window was frosted.

He peered down the narrow hall, then up the stairwell. Only one way to get the view he needed.

He climbed the first set of steps and paused at the landing to check the view out of the small rectangular window. Perfect. But what was that loud whistling noise?

With no sign of the bear, he took the second set of stairs two at a time. The beautifully decorated living room stopped him in his tracks, though. Looking at the brown leather furniture with its perfectly placed throw pillows, he felt as though he were invading Celeste’s privacy. Like he shouldn’t be here.

Probably because he shouldn’t. He should be with his daughters. Not leaving them alone with a stranger. And for all practical purposes, Celeste was a stranger. Aside from the fact that she was a good cook, bossy and had an appreciation for historic architecture, what did he really know about her?

Training his ear on that incessant whistling, he whisked past the pristine dining area and rounded into the kitchen. On the stove, steam spewed from the spout of a kettle. He quickly turned it off and moved the kettle to another burner before marching back down to the window without so much as another glance at Celeste’s inner sanctum.

He resumed his post just as the bear wandered into the driveway. It was a young one. Not a cub, by any means, but not an adult either. With the whistling silenced, Gage could hear the animal’s unhappy grunts, as well as a few of his own.

The bear continued down the street, but Gage watched until it was out of sight before returning to the first level. He hurried past the bathroom and bedroom that were off the foyer then entered the garage via the interior door.

Oh, man. He admired the black ragtop Mustang parked inside. “Talk about a sweet ride.” He slowly circled the vehicle, looking for signs of damage. A couple of scratches on the rear bumper but, lucky for Celeste, the canvas was untouched.

Scanning the rest of the single-car space, he shook his head. That bear must have had a good ol’ time. And based on what little he saw of Celeste’s immaculate house, she was not going to like this. What a mess.

As he suspected, the back door was open. He closed it and twisted the dead bolt, making sure it was secure, then grabbed a lawn and leaf bag from the box on the shelf and started collecting the trash that had been scattered.

Why are you doing this?

He thought about the look on Celeste’s face when he explained how to get rid of the bear. Not to mention the way she backed him up when he told the girls to go to bed. Actually, he was kind of surprised she did that. It had been a long time since somebody had his back.

After gathering the trash, he tied the bag and tossed it in the receptacle, making sure to secure the lid. Then he turned out the light and used the keypad to close the garage door before returning to his house.

All was quiet when he stepped inside, so he continued down the hall to check on the girls. Amidst the warm glow of their pink butterfly lamp, he could see that both were asleep. And so was Celeste.

She was leaning against Emma’s white headboard, head drooped to one side, with a book in her lap. One hand lay atop Emma’s back as the child snuggled beside her.

Something shifted inside him. He longed for his girls to have a mother’s nurturing. Someone who did those little things that said, “I love you.” Things like reading books, painting their nails and doing their hair. Someone who understood tea parties and Barbie dolls. Someone who was a helpmate to him.

Looking away, he ran a hand through his hair. He wasn’t cut out for marriage, though. Even if he was, it certainly wouldn’t be with someone like Celeste. She was too much like his ex. Confident, independent, driven...All things that had drawn him to Tracy.

Unfortunately, Tracy had had no interest in motherhood.

Time to get Celeste out of here. He never should have left her with Emma and Cassidy in the first place.

Making his way between the two twin beds, he laid a hand on Celeste’s arm.

She didn’t move.

He leaned over until his mouth was inches from her ear. “Celeste?” He caught a whiff of vanilla.

A strand of her hair tickled his cheek, causing him to jump.

Celeste did, too. “What are you doing?” Though her words were whispered, they were undeniably sharp.

“Trying to wake you up.” He stormed out of the room and busied himself by straightening the living room until Celeste appeared.

“You’ve got a couple of great kids there.” She crossed her arms. “Not one argument. They settled right in and were asleep before I even finished the story.”

“I’m glad they didn’t give you any trouble.” He set the girls’ backpacks beside the front door. “You’ll be happy to know that your house is bear-free.”

“Thank you. You saved my life tonight.”

“I doubt that.” He darted into the kitchen to dump a handful of string cheese wrappers. “He was just a little guy.”

“Little? Not when he was standing on his hind legs, looking me straight in the eye.”

He rejoined her. “If he would have been full grown, he’d have been looking down at you.” Much like he was right now. When did she get so short?

“I guess I’d better go.” She moved to the door. “I really do appreciate you helping me out, though.”

He nodded, holding the door open. “Doesn’t look like I’ll have that quote by tomorrow.”

“I understand.” She stepped onto the porch and stared across the street. Judging by the way her fingers dug into her arms, she was scared.

He knew he should walk her home. Set her at ease.

But he couldn’t. Not while his heart was longing for things that would never be.

He peered up at the darkened sky. “I’ll keep watch. Make sure you get home safely.”

Her smile lacked its usual confidence. “Okay.” She started down the stairs. “Thanks again, Gage. I owe you.”

She moved quickly across the street and up her front walk. At the door, she paused and waved before disappearing inside.

He felt like a jerk.

No, he felt like a fool for entertaining such crazy thoughts.

He went back into his house and dropped onto the sofa. He must be tired. But there was no way he’d be able to sleep. He needed to focus on something else.

Standing, he moved to the dining table and opened his laptop. May as well work on a quote. With nothing else in the pipeline, he’d need the work. And, if God didn’t want him to have the job, Celeste would turn him down anyway.

But what if He does want you to have this job?

Gage sighed. Then he’d just have to get through it as quickly as possible.

Chapter Four

Gage dropped the girls off at school without a minute to spare. After staying up late to work on Celeste’s quote, sleep held him captive with unwanted yet all-too-appealing visions of Celeste with his daughters.

Two cups of coffee and a quick shower later, he was still dragging. He could only hope the breakfast rush went long at Granny’s Kitchen. The busier Celeste was, the quicker the process would be. He’d simply drop off the estimate and she could get back to him later. Because after seeing her in his dreams, the last thing he wanted was to spend time in her presence this morning.

A half a dozen cars parked near the corner restaurant encouraged him. He snagged a spot, turned off the ignition and hopped out of his truck.

Despite a clear blue sky overhead, Main Street lay bathed in shadows, waiting for the sun to top the gray, volcanic peaks of the Amphitheater, the curved formation at the town’s eastern edge. Frost dappled windshields and rooftops, while the brisk morning air jolted his sleep-deprived senses. A reminder that winter wasn’t too far around the corner.

Inside the restaurant, smiling faces and the aromas of bacon, fresh-brewed coffee and cinnamon transported him to another time. Back when life was simpler and dreams were bigger. When the future was his for the taking. Before reality dealt a heartbreaking blow that would forever change him.

Celeste emerged from the kitchen, carrying three plates. One with eggs, bacon and hash browns, another with what appeared to be breakfast burritos, and the last held a cinnamon roll that looked exactly like the ones her grandmother used to make.

Spotting him, she did a double take. “Be with you in a second.”

His insides tensed. While his head told him to drop the file on the counter and run, his stomach begged him to pull up a chair and enjoy a hearty breakfast. Maybe food would help take his mind off last night. If nothing else, it would silence the rumbling in his gut.

He slid onto a bar stool as Celeste moved behind the oak-topped counter.

She paused long enough to grab a coffeepot and a white mug. “You look as though you could use this.” She set the cup in front of him and poured.

“That bad, huh?”

She puffed out a gentle laugh. “That bear—or at least thoughts of him—kept me awake half the night, too.”

Bear? He palmed the cup, the warmth seeping into his fingers. He should be so lucky.

“Cream or sugar?”

“No, thanks.” He took a sip, trying not to make eye contact. Celeste’s long blond hair was pulled back yet again, her attire more business than casual, and she’d grown at least two inches since last night.

“Excuse me for a minute.” She replaced the coffeepot on the warmer before continuing into the kitchen.

Gage couldn’t help wondering what had happened to the overbearing, dictatorial Celeste he met with yesterday afternoon. The one who had been a burr under his saddle. That Celeste he could deal with. The sweet, nurturing Celeste who showed up uninvited in his dreams? Not so much.

A few minutes later, she returned, carrying a foil pan encased in a plastic bag. She set it beside him. “My way of saying thank you for your help last night.”

The sight of six homemade cinnamon rolls covered in rich, gooey icing wiped every thought from his brain as his stomach broke into a Snoopy dance. “Where’s a fork?”

“Not so fast. Those are for later.”

“What?”

“Order up.”

Celeste reached toward the stainless steel pass-through to the kitchen and retrieved a plate. “This one is for now.” Frosting dripped from the steaming, oversize confection she placed in front of him. She handed him a fork and a short stack of napkins. “That is, unless you’ve already had breakfast.”

“I haven’t.” Filled with more anticipation than a grown man ought to have, he grabbed the fork. “And even if I had...” The warm pastry melted in his mouth while an explosion of cinnamon and creamy sweetness chased his cares away. “This is even better than I remembered.”

“I’m glad you approve.”

“Oh, I almost forgot.” He positioned his fork on the edge of the plate and picked up the file. “I finished your quote.”

Her brown eyes went wide. “Are you kidding?” She accepted the folder. “How did you manage that?”

No way was he going to let on how the sight of her with Cassidy and Emma had affected him. “Guess that bear riled us both.”

“Order up.”

“Drat!” Celeste tucked the file folder on the opposite work counter, alongside rows of ketchup, mustard and hot sauce bottles. “Duty calls.” She retrieved two more plates from the pass-through and was on her way.

Gage savored the first decent cinnamon roll he’d had in twenty years, washing down his last bite with a swig of coffee. Mission accomplished. The quote had been delivered and even though he’d been here longer than planned, the cinnamon roll more than made up for it. Now all he had to do was finish up some last-minute details at the Schmidts’ and he’d have the rest of the day to himself.

Standing, he reached for the care package Celeste had given him.

“This is starting to become a habit.” Blakely squeezed between him and the next stool, not looking anywhere near as chipper as she’d been yesterday.

He helped her onto the chair. “You feeling okay?”

“Yeah. I just got some disturbing news, that’s all.” She pointed to the pan of rolls. “Hard to resist, aren’t they?”

“Morning, Blakely.” Celeste whisked along the other side of the counter.

“Hey there, Gage. Blakely.” Kaleb Palmer, Gage’s old classmate and the town’s most decorated veteran, waited in front of the register.

“I’ve been hearing some rumors about you, Kaleb.” Crossing her arms, Blakely leaned her elbows against the counter and looked past Gage. “And I sure hope they’re true.”

“Well, that depends.” The former soldier who’d lost a leg in Afghanistan grinned and handed Celeste a ten. “What kind of rumors?”

Blakely’s brow lifted. “That you’re looking to buy Mountain View Tours from Ross Chapman.”

Their good-natured friend accepted his change and turned to face them. “Then that would be correct.”

“Yes!” Blakely squirmed out of her chair and thrust her arms around Kaleb’s waist. “Praise the Lord and hallelujah.”

It was no secret that Ross Chapman, Mountain View Tours’ current owner, had been a thorn in Blakely’s side. Not to mention a poor businessman, nearly running the once well-established business into the ground.

Kaleb squeezed Blakely’s shoulder. “I just hope we can be allies instead of competitors.”

“Without a doubt. Trent and I will be happy to help you any way we can.”

“Good deal.” Kaleb started for the door, the hitch of his prosthetic leg virtually unnoticeable. “Now I’ve just got to get things hashed out with Chapman.”

Blakely grimaced. “Don’t bring up my name, then. However, I’ll definitely be praying for things to work out.”

“You can count me in on those prayers,” said Celeste.

“Me, too.” Gage admired Kaleb’s determination and positive outlook. He had every confidence his friend could do wonders for both Mountain View Tours and Ouray’s tourism industry.

“’Preciate that, guys.” Kaleb waved as he pushed the door open. “Catch ya later.”

Celeste grabbed a couple of menus as another couple entered the restaurant. “I’ll be right back, y’all.”

Gage helped Blakely back into her seat. “That news ought to help shore up whatever was bothering you earlier.”

“I wish.” She ran her fingers through her strawberry blond hair. “You know the fall festival?”

“Sure. The girls were just talking about it the other day.”

“Linda Barrow was supposed to be in charge. I found out this morning that she completely dropped the ball.”

He eased back into his own chair, studying Blakely’s pinched expression. “What do you mean?”

“You know her mom’s been sick.”

He nodded.

“Apparently time got away from her. Not one thing has been done for the festival.”

“What festival?” Celeste peeled a sheet from her order pad and clipped it to the wheel on the pass-through before giving it a spin.

“The fall festival,” said Blakely. “All the churches in town come together to put on a carnival for the kids,” Gage explained.

“Sounds like fun.”

“It is.” Blakely folded her hands atop the counter. “Especially for the kids.”

“But it doesn’t look like it’s going to happen this year.” Gage shook his head. “Which is a shame. A lot of kids are going to be disappointed. Mine included.”

“No. They’re not.”

Both Celeste and Gage stared at Blakely.

“Austin has always loved the festival.” She absently rubbed her belly, as though considering the child growing inside her, too. “I couldn’t bear the thought of losing such a wonderful tradition. So...I said I’d take over.”

Gage narrowed his gaze. “At the risk of sounding like Captain Obvious, you do realize you’re about to have a baby, don’t you?”

Blakely laughed. “Not for another month. The festival will be over long before my due date.”

“Still, you can’t take this all on by yourself, Blakely. How can I help? Besides sustaining you with cookies and cinnamon rolls.”

Their friend grinned. “Well, I wasn’t exactly planning on doing the whole thing by myself. Just the organizing. I’ve got to come up with some people willing to solicit donations of food and prizes, create and set up games, recruit volunteers to work the festival...”

“I can do the recruiting and solicitation.” Celeste’s expression turned serious.

“You need a bounce house?” Gage downed the rest of his now lukewarm coffee.

“I almost forgot about that. Yes.”

“I know a guy in Montrose. I’ll give him a call. What else can I do?”

Blakely took a deep breath and smiled, her blue eyes glistening with unshed tears. Probably just hormones, though it still made him uncomfortable. “You guys are amazing. Honestly, I was only coming in here for a cinnamon roll. But you’ve encouraged me so much.” She wiped at a tear. “With the three of us working together, I know we can make this the best fall festival yet.”

Together? Gage had no problem with Blakely. But Celeste?

Working on the space above the restaurant, he could do. After all, with Celeste running the restaurant, how involved could she really be in the day-to-day grunt work? But working alongside her on the festival when they butted heads like a couple of bighorn sheep?

What had he gotten himself into?

* * *

Gage was the last person Celeste wanted to see this morning. While she was more than grateful for his help last night, she was also embarrassed. What must he think of her, passing out on his porch in her pajamas—princess pajamas, no less—behaving like a crazed drama queen and then falling asleep on his daughter’s bed? He probably believed she was downright loony.

And now they’d be working together on a festival? God, You definitely have a sense of humor.

“I still have to wrap my brain around all that needs to be done, then I’ll lay out a plan of action.” Blakely’s blue eyes moved from Gage to Celeste. “Think we could meet in a day or two?”

“Should be fine.” Gage seemed less than enthused about the prospect.

“Sure.” Celeste scanned the restaurant, all too aware that she needed to see to her customers. “Now, about that cinnamon roll?”

“That would make my day, Celeste.”

She turned in the order before returning her attention to Gage. “How about you? Another roll? Some protein, maybe? Eggs?”

“No, I’m good. I need to get a move on.” He grabbed the pan of rolls and shoved out of his chair. “How much do I owe you?”

“Not a thing. I’m indebted to you for putting up with me last night.”

“I guess we’re even then.” He turned, then stopped. “My contact info is in the file. Just let me know what you decide.”

“I will. Thanks again, Gage.” Relief washed over her when he walked out the door. If his estimate fit her budget, she was ready to give him the green light and get her “suite” dreams on the path to becoming a reality.

When she looked back at Blakely, her friend was wearing a nice little smirk. “So, just what did Gage have to ‘put up with’ last night?”

Celeste’s cheeks grew warm. “Nothing like you’re thinking.” She removed Gage’s dishes, grabbed a rag from the sink beneath the counter and began wiping.

“Oh?” The arch of Blakely’s brow had Celeste blushing all the more. “And what am I thinking?”

She halted her cleaning. “Why did nobody tell me that bears roam around town at night?”

Blakely’s expression shifted to one of concern. “Why? What happened?”

“I had a close encounter with one in my garage.”

“Oh, no. What did you do?”

“I left, of course.” She tossed the rag back into the sink and leaned against the counter. “And discovered that Gage lives across the street from me.”

Blakely laughed. “What? Did he hear you screaming?”

“I didn’t scream.”

“Order up.”

She grabbed Blakely’s order, eyeing the two alongside it. “I banged on his door.” Without waiting for a response, she snagged the other orders and was on her way. Not so eager to hear what Blakely had to say next, she refilled coffee cups, delivered tickets and took someone’s money at the register while her friend ate.

“I forgot to ask how your meeting went yesterday.” Blakely licked a blob of frosting from her fork.

Thank goodness they were off the topic of bears. “Not bad. At least he has an appreciation for historical architecture.”

“Do you think you’re going to hire him?” There went that grin again.

“Possibly. I can’t say for certain until I see his quote.” No point in feeding Blakely’s sudden impulse to match her up with Gage. Celeste had no interest in being paired with anyone. Least of all, Gage Purcell.

For a Tuesday morning, Granny’s Kitchen had enjoyed a steady stream of customers, punctuated by the lunchtime arrival of a busload of senior citizens on a fall foliage tour. Finally, at two fifteen, Celeste had an opportunity to sit down in her office with a chicken salad sandwich and Gage’s quote.

Munching on a potato chip, she opened the folder. A detailed spreadsheet showed costs for everything from demolition to labor to materials, as well as estimates for plumbing and electrical. She reviewed the three pages, making note of the lengthy list of variables. Things that could potentially occur that would affect the cost and length of the project.

By the time she got to the end, she feared the project might be out of her reach. So she was pleasantly surprised by Gage’s bottom line. Not to mention the estimated completion date—January 1.

Bowing her head, she sent up a brief prayer of thanks. She knew God would send her the right contractor. Now she prayed that God would grant her the grace to overlook Gage’s sometimes surly disposition. Especially when it came to her input and expectations.

Finished with her meal, she pulled Gage’s business card from the folder. The sooner she gave him the go-ahead, the sooner he could start.

She picked up her cell phone.

“Celeste?” Karla poked her graying head around the corner. “Health inspector’s here.”

“Now?” She’d been anticipating a visit. And while she had nothing to hide, the timing could have been better.

By the time the inspector—who was very friendly, though a bit chatty—left, Celeste needed to set up for dinner. Thanks to Karla, the Mexican rice was simmering and enchiladas were in the oven, so tonight’s special was covered.

Celeste gave the fifty-something woman a hug. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Karla.”

“That’s quite all right, hon. I didn’t do anything you wouldn’t do yourself.”

Keeping one eye on the restaurant via the pass-through, Celeste grabbed a stack of red plastic baskets and lined each with a wax paper sheet so they’d be ready for tortilla chips later. Granny’s Kitchen always had more guests on enchilada night, so she wanted to be prepared. Next, she placed a stack of small bowls beside the baskets. They’d be needed for the salsa she made earlier in the day.

The door swung open then and two little blond-haired girls entered.

Celeste’s heart lightened as she rounded into the dining room.

“Celeste!” Cassidy and Emma cheered in unison when they saw her, sending her over the moon with delight.

She gave them each a hug, scanning the area outside for signs of their father.

“We want cupcakes.” Emma climbed onto a bar stool.

“No, Emma.” Her sister did likewise, though with more finesse. “It’s a cupcake class.”

“Oh, you mean you want to sign up for Cupcake Mania?” Celeste moved Emma to the center of her seat so she wouldn’t fall off.

“Uh-huh.” Emma’s head bobbed emphatically.

Celeste again watched for Gage. “Where’s your father?”

“He’s at the hardware store.” Cassidy adjusted the plastic headband that held her long hair away from her face. “But he said we could see if you were here.”

Something about that statement made her feel warm and fuzzy. “Well, I’m so glad you did.” She contemplated offering them a cookie, but decided against it since it was almost dinnertime.

“It smells good in here.” As if to prove her point, Emma took a deep breath through her nose.

“Well, thank you.” She patted the child’s back. “That’s always a good thing in a restaurant.”

“Can we eat here?” Emma looked at her, very matter-of-factly.

“I, uh...well...” Where are you, Gage? “That would be up to your father. But I’d certainly love to have you.” Boy, she needed to stay on her toes around this little one. “So, did your daddy tell you about the cupcake class?”

“No. My friend Bella said she was coming and that I should come, too.”

“And me,” Emma was quick to inject.

Out of the corner of her eye, Celeste saw Gage walk past the front windows.

He held the door open for Rose Daniels and Florence Griffin. “Ladies.”

The two elderly women were always first in on enchilada night. Although Celeste wasn’t sure if either one of them actually believed themselves to be elderly. They had more spunk and spirit than people half their age.

“Good evening, ladies.” She snagged two menus from beside the cash register.

“You can put those away, Celeste.” Rose, Blakely’s grandmother and one of Granny’s best friends, approached the counter. “Florence and I know exactly what we want.”

“Gage, these girls of yours are growing like weeds.” Florence fluffed her silvery hair, her hazel eyes bouncing between Cassidy and Emma.

“They sure are.” Gage took off his ball cap and ran a hand through his dark hair. “I don’t suppose you ladies could give me any pointers on how to prevent that, could you?”

Both women chuckled.

“Just enjoy them while you can,” said Florence.

“It was hard to tell you two youngsters from the big girls at Taryn’s wedding.” Rose’s smile reached her warm blue eyes as she regarded the girls. “Did you like getting all dressed up?”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Cassidy.

“I likeded the cake best.” Leave it to Emma to speak her mind.

Celeste tucked the menus back in their place and followed the women to their usual booth at the center window, so they wouldn’t miss anything that might happen outside. “Two enchilada platters then?”

Rose unwrapped the silverware from her napkin, her gaze flitting toward the counter. “Gage always was a handsome one. And there’s nothing quite as attractive as a loving father.” She looked up at Celeste, the corner of her mouth lifted. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

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