“Northwest Montana’s Best Chef Contest this weekend in Kalispell,” the radio host was saying. “Deadline to enter is tonight at midnight. See details online at NW Montana’s Best Chef Contest dot com. Good luck, local cooks! Ten thousand big ones would even get me to enter—if I could cook a burger without charring it to death.”
One of her favorite songs came on, but Lily snapped off the radio. Ten thousand dollars?
Ten. Thousand. Dollars.
More than enough money to get her business off the ground, pay first and last month’s rent on her own place and have some cushion for emergencies.
She had to enter that contest. She had to win that contest!
Lily pulled into the driveway and rushed inside, dashing upstairs to her desk and opening her laptop. She typed the name of the contest into the search engine, and there it was. According to the site, the first round was an elimination event on Friday night—all hopefuls would make the same dish, based on the same recipe and the same ingredients. The top ten entrants would move on to round two. Three finalists would be chosen to move on and after the next round, one winner would be named. And awarded ten grand and the right to call herself Northwest Montana’s Best Chef. Note, she read. All entrants must bring an assistant who will aid only with prep, help fetch ingredients, cookware, utensils and plates during the competition, and help with time management.
Wait—what?
An assistant?
She raced out of her room into Andrew’s. Not home. Neither were Bobby or Ryan. She texted all three.
Busy this weekend? I need an assistant for a cooking contest in Kalispell.
Within fifteen minutes, she had a “no can do” from them all. Andrew had a special orientation at the academy. Bobby and Ryan were booked solid at the auto-mechanic shop. And she already knew her dad had two special dates planned with Charlotte because he’d texted her so while she’d been in the powder room during their dinner out.
Sarah had a baby—no way could Lily, or would Lily, even ask her. Two other very busy girlfriends were also not likely to be available.
There was one other person she could ask. He might be free. And willing.
But if he said yes, could she really bear spending the weekend with him? Her heart would break a tiny bit more every time she looked at him.
She had to enter the contest—and win.
Which meant picking up the phone and calling Xander Crawford.
Chapter Twelve
Lily grabbed her phone, sucking in a deep breath. She punched in his number and brought the phone to her ear, her heart beating a mile a minute.
“Lily?” he asked. “Everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine. I just need a favor. A big favor.”
“My answer is yes,” he said.
She flopped down on her bed, eyebrow raised. “You don’t even know what the favor is.”
“Don’t need to, Lil. I’d do anything for you.”
Tears stung her eyes. This time, not from joy. But from the bittersweet poke at knowing how much he cared about her—and how she’d never have him the way she wanted.
I’d do anything for you—except be in love with you or lie to you about it.
The cooking contest, she reminded herself. She had to think only of that. “Does ‘anything’ include being my assistant for the weekend at the Northwest Montana’s Best Chef Contest? We’d leave Friday night and return Saturday night. I know you probably can’t do it—it’s last minute and practically all weekend and—”
“How many aprons should I pack?” he asked. “Do I own an apron? Do I get to wear a chef’s hat?”
She almost burst into tears. She had to cover her mouth with her hand and squeeze her eyes shut. That was how touched she was that he was going to help her.
“I’ll bring the aprons,” she managed to say. “And yes on the chef hat.”
“Count me in, then,” he said.
She could barely catch her breath. “Thank you, Xander. You have no idea how much this means to me to enter the contest.” She told him all about her business plan, the idea for Lily’s Home Cookin’ and how the ten thousand would get her started and then some.
“I always said you’d run the world someday, Lil. I’m happy to help you. And honestly, any time you need something, I’m here for you. I’d do anything for you,” he repeated.
Except be in love with me. Except be with me. Except commit to me.
At least she had her weekend assistant. And she knew she could trust him to work hard and fast. The time they’d spent in the kitchen at the kids’ cooking class and his few cooking lessons gave him a good familiarity.
Now she’d just have to get through the weekend with total focus on the three dishes they would make instead of on the man she loved.
She could do that. She would do that.
“Are you free now to discuss what I’ll be doing?” he asked. “I could be over in fifteen minutes.”
Wait—he wanted to come over?
“You could explain to me what you’ll be cooking and what I’ll need to do to help, how the contest works. I don’t want to be the one who ruins the whole thing for you by chopping something in the wrong dimensions.”
Lily smiled. “Well, there’s a website with a ton of information. But sure, why don’t you come over, and we’ll go over it, and work out a plan based on what I know. The actual dishes I’ll be making are a surprise.”
“Oh, that’s always helpful in a competition,” he said.
“Right?”
“Be right over, Lil,” he said.
She held the phone on her heart for the next few minutes, unable to get up, unable to think.
She could barely get through knowing the man she loved was coming over to talk about the contest. How in the heck would she get through a weekend that promised to be incredibly high stress as it was?
She just would. You want it, you make it happen. Wasn’t that her motto? Sure, sometimes it didn’t happen, à la Xander Crawford.
But it had to this weekend with the ten thousand bucks. It just had to.
* * *
A weekend away with Lily? Yes.
Helping Lily with something very important to her? Yes.
She’d get her assistant and he’d get his friend back. Win-win.
He drove over to her house, greeted by Dobby and Harry, who ran out for their vigorous pet-downs, Lily standing in the doorway.
She wasn’t in the pink dress but she still didn’t look like the Lily he’d always known.
She wore very sexy jeans that molded to her body. A V-neck tank top that showed her curves. And sandals that revealed sparkly green toenails. Her gorgeous red hair was sleek and shiny and loose around her shoulders.
She looked too hot.
And man, he thought she’d looked hot before this change.
With the dogs at his shins, he headed in, trying not to stare at Lily.
“I can’t thank you enough, Xander,” she said. “I know we left things kind of awkward, so...just thank you.”
He nodded. “Happy to help.” He followed her up to her room, and she shut the door behind them. He sat down at her desk chair; she grabbed her laptop and sat cross-legged on the bed.
The bed, of course, brought back memories of the last time he saw her on a bed. In bed. Under his covers.
“So what’s my role?” he asked. Stop looking at her legs. Stop looking at her hair. Stop looking at her.
She told him what the site said about the assistant’s role. “So, you can chop veggies, gather ingredients, get me a sauté pan, and you can say, ‘Lily, you have a half hour left.’ But you can’t do any actual cooking.”
“Well, that’s good because I’m pretty bad at it.”
“I recall you making excellent omelets,” she said. “Even Andrew remarked on how goo
d it was.”
“Nice try, Lil. But we took the ones that I made. They had the good ones you made. Remember?”
“You did a great job turning the bacon with the tongs and getting the cheese out of the fridge,” she said with a grin. “And that’s pretty much your role at the competition.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Except I don’t know a sauté pan from a colander.”
“Good point. Let’s hit the kitchen and I’ll give you a tutorial. You can even take notes.”
He actually pulled a tiny notebook with a little pen in the spiral from his back pocket. “Of course I’ll take notes. I’ve gotta help you win.”
She got up from the bed, her gaze on him, and it took everything in him not to reach for her, to say he was sorry, that he had no idea what he was doing.
But she’d already opened the door and was waiting for him.
In the kitchen, she knelt down in front of a cabinet and pulled out a bunch of pots and pans. She put them all on the counter. “Which do you think is a sauté pan? You’d cook fish in it or chicken or make an omelet.”
“Probably this one,” he said, pointing at one with shallow sides. “I think.”
“Correct!”
“Soup or chili or spaghetti pot?” she asked.
“I’d think it would have to be pretty high to be a spaghetti pot, and I know when my dad makes chili, it’s always in some huge pot.” He pointed to the pot he thought would be right.
“Correct again!” she said. “A-plus so far.”
They went through all the pots and pans, then moved on to the cooking utensils, covering everything from spatulas to colanders to food processors.
“Catch!” she said, tossing a green pepper at him. “Get ready to slice, dice and chop.”
He caught it after it bounced against his chest. “Catch!” he said, tossing it back.
She got it in one hand. “Catch!” she said, turning around and tossing it behind her.
“Ha, got it!” He laughed, tossing it up in the air and catching it with his left hand. “Who knew you could have so much fun with food?”
She grinned. “I did.”
“You’re going to win the contest. I know it.”
She smiled, then sobered fast. “You really believe in me.”
“Sure do. I’ve had your French dip. That’s all I need to know.”
Lily laughed and he realized how much he’d missed that beautiful sound. He wished he could always make her happy. “Well,” she said, clearing her throat. “Time for the cutting lessons.”
For the next hour, she showed him how to slice thin and thick, how to dice, how to peel and separate garlic cloves.
They’d been in the kitchen for three hours when she let out a giant yawn.
“Someone needs to get her cooking contest rest,” he said. “What time are we leaving tomorrow?”
“I need to be there no later than six.”
“I’ll drive. Pick you up at four forty-five just to be safe. Better to be a half hour early than a few minutes late.”
She wrapped her arms around him and kissed his cheek, and again he wanted to pull her against him and never let her go.
“Thank you so much, Xander. You are a true friend.”
Friend. Buddy. Nice. Just friends. The words echoed in his head.
They were going away for the weekend. Together. Staying—he assumed—in the same room. Or was he just hoping they were?
“I guess I should book a room for myself?” he asked as he washed his hands in the sink.
“I already did. We have two single rooms but the guy taking the reservations said they were among the last rooms available. So phew.”
His heart sank.
You can’t have it both ways, man, he reminded himself.
* * *
Late that night, after a practice dinner on her family that they all raved about, and another half hour lying on her bed staring up at the ceiling, and another half hour going over the contest website for every detail, Lily decided to start packing. She set her suitcase on her bed and opened it, wondering what to take—for the competition and a weekend away with the man she was madly in love with.
For the competition, she’d wear her new jeans and tank tops and bring two light cardigans, plus her trusty lucky clogs, which were comfortable and nonslip and made her feel grounded.
For the weekend away with Xander, she’d bring the sexy underwear (because why not? Even if he never saw it, she’d know it was there) and the sleeveless little black dress and strappy sandals.
Hell yeah. You never knew.
She grabbed her phone and texted Sarah: Entering a weekend-cooking competition in Kalispell. Guess who my assistant is?
OMG. No way.
As friends. But hopeful.
Me too! Wow! Good luck on both fronts!
Just after she sent back a smiley face emoji, someone knocked on her door. At her “come in!” her brother Andrew poked his head in.
“Got a minute?” he asked.
“Sure.”
He came in and sat down on her desk chair. “I just wanted to say thanks, Lil. Everything is because of you.”
She put down her phone and stared at Andrew. “What’s because of me?”
“Me being really happy. Having Heidi in my life. Dad dating for the first time in forever. I think he’s in love.”
Lily smiled. “Dad does seem really happy. I met Charlotte. She seems great. But how is either relationship my doing? I didn’t introduce you to Heidi or Dad to Charlotte.”
“Still it’s because of you. When I watched you enroll in school for business administration, it spurred me to really think about what I wanted for my future—and I enrolled in the police academy. Then you made pals with a Crawford, and I got the cojones to ask him if he’d pass my name and number to any date he thought would work out. And I met Heidi. You said you were going to the annual dance that you never went to and Dad goes and falls in love. It’s all thanks to you. You made really positive changes in your life and now we’re doing that, too.”
Her heart pinged. “Andrew, you’re gonna make me cry.”
“Mark my words—Ryan and Bobby will be engaged by Christmas.”
Lily wondered if either of them had met someone special at the dance. Both were a little more private than Andrew, who’d always worn his heart right on the ole sleeve. She had seen her other two brothers talking to a couple different women through the night, so maybe they had. The dance seemed to be magical for all the Hunts.
She recalled watching Andrew dip Heidi during a slow song and kiss her. She’d even snapped a photo, which she’d surprise him with one day. “And what about you?” she asked, wiggling her eyebrows.
She could see his cheeks flush and a big dopey smile light his face. “I’ve already been looking at rings. Maybe you could help me pick one out? I want to propose on her birthday in October.”
“Awww! Andrew! I’m happy for you! And of course I’ll help you ring shop!” She gave him a big hug.
Now all she had to do was get her own love life in order. And she had a whole weekend to work on it.
Chapter Thirteen
The Northwest Montana’s Best Chef Contest was being held in the Kalispell Luxury Lodge, which was a bit on the outskirts of town. The sprawling one-story guest ranch had an enormous hunter-green peaked roof with the name of the hotel across it. It wasn’t as luxe as the Maverick Manor, but there were wide planked floors covered with gorgeous rugs, leather love seats and armchairs in sitting areas, and pots of flowers everywhere. On the other side of the hotel reception desk, two women sat at a registration table for the contest. There were at least thirty people in line, mostly in rows of two. The chefs and their assistants.
“Yikes, I hope being in line by the deadline counts,” Lily said to Xander. It was only five thirt
y so she was sure they’d make it to the table by six.
The guy in front of her, wearing a bright purple apron, turned around and said, “It does—I asked!”
“Phew,” Lily said. “Thanks.”
Xander slung his arm around her, and she felt instantly cheered. They’d chatted nonstop on the way to Kalispell, a forty-five-minute drive, and she wondered if both of them were filling in any potential silences before they could happen. Maybe he’d figured she’d use the time to talk about what had happened between the night of the dance and the next morning. But she was not going to bring that up.
This weekend would speak for itself.
She just had to let it.
He seemed to sense she was a little nervous about what to expect from tonight’s elimination round, so while they waited in line he stayed mostly silent, though his arm was a constant comfort around her shoulder.
The line moved quickly, since there were two people handling the check-ins. Finally, Lily was up.
“Hi, I’m Lily Hunt for the competition,” she said to the blonde on the left.
As the woman handed her a form to sign, a name tag to fill out and instructions to report to the Sagebrush Ballroom down the hall, someone tapped her on the shoulder.
“Lily!” a male voice said with faux cheer.
She knew that voice.
She turned around. Ugh. It was him. The bane of her existence at the Gold Rush Diner in Rust Creek Falls, where she’d worked for a year as a short-order cook before daring to apply for a line cook job at the Manor. Kyle Kendrick. What a jerk. Luckily, his reputation preceded him because when he tried to get a job at Maverick Manor, her boss, Gwen, had apparently said: “You should watch who you insult while walking down the street. My husband and I were coming toward you and you told him to stop hogging the sidewalk with his ‘beer gut.’ I almost punched you out myself, but he stopped me.”
Kyle was slightly built and not very tall and had a fake-angelic look because of his wavy, light blond hair and blue eyes, which probably saved him from getting beat up as often as he might have. Though she had seen him come to work with a few bruised cheeks.
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