Rocky Mountain Romance

by Lesley Ann McDaniel

  Guilt punched her in the gut. Here it was after dinner and she hadn’t even thought about him since lunch.

  Courtney squinted at the pages with tired-looking eyes. “Do the rules tell you anything about who the judges are?”

  “It says ‘culinary celebrities.’” Andra’s eyes widened. “They could be anybody from the food world.”

  Janessa ran a finger along a page as she read. “‘The four judges will arrive just like regular customers. They’ll order, then after they have a chance to taste their meals, the owner and the chef will be brought out to receive the verdict. The judges will visit the two competing restaurants for that episode in the same week. Then, when the show airs, they will reveal which one received the higher score.’” She looked up. “We won’t find out if we win for a couple of months.”

  A small moan slipped from Andra’s throat as she pressed her hand to her forehead.

  “Don’t worry.” Janessa rubbed Andra’s shoulder. “The worst that can happen is that we’ll have a couple of days of super business, then go back to normal.”

  Andra shot her the kind of glare that only a best friend can get away with. “No, the worst that can happen is that the judges will hate our food and we won’t be able to do anything to stop them from announcing it to the whole world.”

  Sheila tried to ignore the quarrelsome turn the conversation had taken as she tapped out a quick message on her phone.

  Miss u 2.

  “Not the ‘world’ exactly,” Janessa said gently. “Technically, just the whole country.”

  Andra’s nostrils flared. “And we think this is a good idea why?”

  “Ten thousand reasons, Andra.” Holding up her hand, Janessa ran her thumb across her index and middle fingertips. “Just keep your eye on the prize.”

  “Right.” Andra lifted her gaze as Joe arrived carrying a tray with five slices of bright lemon filling topped with a generous layer of white meringue.

  As Sheila watched Joe set her pie in front of her, her phone beeped again. She glanced down.

  Thinking about me?

  She sighed. How was she supposed to respond? “Actually, no. I’m thinking about pie”?

  A contemplative silence fell over the table while Joe distributed the plates, and Sheila attempted to compose another message to Kevin. Technically, she was thinking about him at the moment, so “Yes,” while not terribly imaginative, wasn’t really a lie.

  As Joe stepped away, the bell over the door jangled and Sheila reflexively looked up. Oh, no. Not Ben. Making a sound that was a cross between a snort and a hiccup, she grabbed for her water.

  “You okay?” Courtney rubbed Sheila’s shoulder with one hand while waving Ben over with the other.

  Feeling her face start to burn, Sheila nodded and held the glass of water to her cheek, hoping it would have a cooling effect on her skin or at least serve as a mask to conceal the blush she felt coloring her face.

  Ben stuck his hands in the front pockets of his jeans and ambled toward their table.

  “Want to join us?” Courtney patted the impossibly tiny bit of seat next to her. “We’re here for pie and planning.”

  “Actually, I’m not staying. I mean, I’m staying, but—” he looked flustered “—I’m here to meet someone.”

  Sheila’s stomach flipped like a gymnast. He was meeting someone?

  “Oh, really?” The confused disbelief in Courtney’s tone would have bordered on insulting if she hadn’t been his sibling and therefore exempt from the ordinary rules of keeping one’s thoughts to oneself. “Who?”

  Ben drew in a deep breath that seemed suspiciously like a stall tactic and made Sheila’s palms start to sweat. Had Stephanie arrived? Was that it?

  She fidgeted. Even from where she sat she caught a hint of the same spicy aftershave he’d worn to Courtney’s wedding. Tears started to burn behind her eyes as her heart sailed back to the reception, when they’d agreed they wanted to keep seeing each other.

  She had wanted that. More than anything. Sure, long-distance relationships weren’t ideal, but he was the kind of guy who was worth taking a risk for, or at least he had seemed to be. Good thing she had found out the truth about him before she’d fallen any deeper.

  And now he had the audacity to stand there right in front of her and announce that he was meeting someone. He had to know that would cut into her heart like a knife. How could he look so innocent and be so flat-out mean?

  Drawing in a steadying breath, she fought the temptation to throw her slice of pie right at his handsome face.

  “So...” Courtney wiped meringue off her lip. “Are you going to tell us or not?”

  The bell above the door turned everyone’s head as Hank sauntered in, spotted them, removed his hat and headed their way. Andra perked up as though she’d just ingested a shot of espresso.

  Ben jabbed a thumb in Hank’s direction. “Him.”

  Sheila felt her cheeks blanch. Hank? Adrenaline surged out with a rush of “false alarm” relief.

  Courtney chuckled. “I didn’t even know you guys knew each other.”

  “Evening, ladies.” Hank glanced at Ben, then lifted an admiring eyebrow at Andra. “You sure do look pretty this evening.”

  “Pretty?” She blew a strand of light auburn hair out of her eyes. “I look like I’ve been standing over a stove all day.”

  “Just goes to show that doing what makes you happy is good for the soul.” Hank gave her a look of pure love and admiration.

  “Get out of here with your sweet talk, cowboy. Let us get back to work.” Andra tilted him a smile as she picked up the stack of papers and swatted him in the ribs with it.

  Grabbing his side in mock injury, Hank looked at Ben and subtly angled a nod toward their table. Ben’s eyes widened and he jerked to attention, then looked at Sheila. “Uh...Sheila, your hair is really...short.”

  She ran her hand through the shoulder-length do. It had been a good six inches longer for the wedding. Was he saying he didn’t like it this way?

  After a moment of awkward silence, Hank held his hat in front of his chest with both hands. “Well, we don’t want to interfere with the work you ladies have to do. If you’ll excuse us...”

  Watching Ben follow Hank to a table near the front of the diner, Sheila’s eyes narrowed. That shy-guy act was really endearing, and he had it down to a T. It made a girl want to reassure him that he was strong and handsome and smart. All the things he obviously knew how to work to his full advantage.

  As Andra recommenced reading the rules out loud, Sheila took a bite of pie and pondered. Stephanie wasn’t here with Ben, and Courtney had never mentioned her. Maybe she wasn’t his girlfriend anymore, but it didn’t matter. Even if he were available now, he had proven he couldn’t be trusted and wasn’t worth dwelling on.

  Now all she had to do was convince her heart of that.

  * * *

  A few minutes later, Ben and Hank had both ordered a piece of apple pie, although Ben’s mind wasn’t exactly on food.

  Your hair is really short. Had he actually said that? He might as well have said “Boy, that cross you have around your neck is sure gold.”

  “You see what I mean?” He spoke to Hank under his breath. “I really can’t talk to women.”

  “Talking to women is just like roping cattle.” Hank took a swig of his water. “All you need is a little practice.”

  “Maybe.” Ben sighed, doubting that practice would do anything but add to his list of humiliations. “There’s just something about Sheila that makes me freeze up.”

  The second he said her name, a tiny seed of panic erupted. He’d never admitted his attraction to Sheila to anybody but God, and even that admission had been only in his head. He held his breath, waiting for Hank to let out a guffaw or give him a pitying look.


  Instead, he regarded him from under an arched brow as a corner of his mouth lifted. “Sheila, huh? I had a feeling this was about someone in particular.” His expression shifted from enlightened to confused. “Hey, wait a minute. I thought the two of you got along just fine when you were out for the wedding.”

  “You’re right, we did.” Memories came like screenshots of his time spent with Sheila that week. Horseback riding. Reading The Great Gatsby to each other. Dancing into the night as the wedding reception wound down. It had been great. Especially when they had both agreed they wanted to see each other again.

  Thinking about it now, he wondered if he had just dreamed it.

  He groaned. “Then, before I left for home, it was like she suddenly turned into a different person. Cold as ice. And I have no clue why.” That last part wasn’t entirely true. He did have an inkling, but he wasn’t ready to be that candid.

  “Huh.” Hank looked thoughtful. “Did you ask Courtney? Women tell each other everything, you know.”

  Ben shook his head. “I probably should have. But by the time she got back from her honeymoon, I just didn’t want to bug her. I decided it was stupid of me to think Sheila could be interested in a guy like me anyway.”

  Hank frowned. “Why do you sell yourself short?”

  “It’s hard to explain.” He shook his head. “I don’t understand women.”

  “Well—” Hank glanced over at Andra “—you’re not alone there, my friend.”

  Ben drew in a breath. “But now I really have to find the nerve to talk to her alone. I have something important to tell her.”

  “What is it?” Hank looked pleased as Joe delivered their pie.

  Ben paused, waiting for Joe to step out of earshot. “See—” he picked up his fork “—I live in Fresno and she lives in L.A.”

  “I’m guessing she knows that.” Hank slyly looked up from his pie.

  “Right.” Ben sliced off a bite with his fork. “But my company has offered me a transfer to L.A., which I’m thinking of taking, but the only reason I’d want to live there would be her.”

  Hank swallowed. “That’s great news.” He pointed his fork at Ben. “You owe it to yourself to tell her. I mean, if you don’t, you’ll always wonder, right?”

  Ben looked over at Sheila, and his heart rate seemed to increase. There was something about the way the light hit the red highlights in her hair that made him wish he could run his hand through it. He had clung to the memory of how her hair had smelled when they had danced together, and the scent was still fresh in his mind.

  What could he do but entrust this to the webmaster of his soul. He closed his eyes and fervently prayed. If I can’t be with her for life, God, can I please just have one more day of good memories with her? Just one more day.

  Opening his eyes, he looked at her again. Yeah. What he wouldn’t give for just one more day.

  Chapter 4

  As Sheila steered Courtney’s car from the highway onto the road leading into Thornton Springs, she tried to calculate how much sleep she’d gotten the night before. Between thinking about Ben and then catching herself dreaming about him, it had been practically impossible to relax. It hadn’t helped knowing that he was sleeping just down the hall.

  She stole a glance at Courtney, who still seemed blessedly oblivious to her plight.

  “I really want to finish up in my office by lunchtime so we can get home to work on the baby book.” Courtney rubbed her belly, which actually appeared to have grown in the two days since Sheila’s arrival. “My mom’s so excited. She wants to do it like a family tree with pictures from both sides, so she brought a ton of photos with her.”

  Sheila smiled in encouragement, wishing that a little of Courtney’s energy would rub off on her. She could use it right about now.

  “Mama Greene’s taking her to The Memory Trail in Helena this morning to get supplies,” Courtney continued. “Knowing my mom, they’re going to come home with enough things to put together ten baby books.”

  As they rounded the bend just before the main business section of town, Sheila slowed, surprised to encounter actual traffic. “I know you get a lot of tourists these days, but this is definitely busier than yesterday.”

  “Definitely.” Courtney watched the people bustling around, snapping pictures of each other and the authentic Old West buildings. “I haven’t seen this many people around here since half the state showed up to see Micah compete in our rodeo last summer.” Her attention shifting, Courtney pointed to an empty parking space directly in front of the ice cream parlor. “Oh, great. Doris Day parking right in front of Moo.”

  Driving at a snail’s pace to accommodate the flow of cars, Sheila turned her head at the cross street, surprised by the sizable crowd spilling out onto the sidewalk in front of the Golden Pear.

  “Whoa.” Courtney leaned forward slightly. “The cameras aren’t even here yet, but it looks like word’s gotten out about the café being on TV. I guess this show’s more popular than I thought.”

  “It’s popular, all right,” Sheila affirmed, “but I suspect most of the women are here hoping to catch a glimpse of Brian Leary.” In L.A. she saw this kind of thing all the time. Women would turn into completely alien creatures at the suggestion that Johnny Depp or Robert Pattinson might be filming in the area. It was no surprise that they’d gather in a small town to witness the arrival of a charismatic reality-show host.

  Sheila made a slight swerve out to the left and was about to pull into the parking place when a sleek black Lexus whipped around the corner of the next block. The unexpected movement caught Sheila’s attention, distracting her just long enough to give the Lexus time to make a U-turn in the middle of the intersection and zip into the open parking space in one smooth motion, stopping on a dime.

  “Hey!” Sheila let out a huff as her inner L.A. native bumped her relaxed vacationing self out of the driver’s seat. “I thought I came to Montana to get away from things like that.”

  Courtney rasped out mock affront. “I thought you came to Montana to see me!”

  “Oh...” Reminding herself to lighten up, she smiled at her friend. “That, too.”

  A shriek went up from the crowd at the café, and Sheila looked to see three or four of the women bobbing up and down in an apparent attempt to get a look at whoever was going to get out of the car.

  “People go nuts at the thought of seeing a celebrity.” Shaking her head, Sheila continued up the block and pulled into a spot near the corner. “Like they’re not just regular people.”

  “They’re not.” Courtney coated the words with a thick layer of cynicism. “Plastic surgery, eight-hour days at the gym, hair plugs and tummy tucks. Not to mention the designer wardrobes and food prepared by personal chefs. Nope. Nothing ‘regular’ about that.”

  Sheila sputtered out a laugh as she shut off the engine. Courtney would know that as well as anyone, having worked as personal assistant to more than one mega-superstar movie actress.

  Undoing her seat belt, Courtney awkwardly twisted her upper body to watch the scene unfolding up the street. The group of women had worked their way to the corner and now hovered on the edge of the curb, waiting for the driver to exit the Lexus.

  Sheila watched as a full head of gorgeous mahogany-colored hair emerged from the car and rose up to a statuesque height. Clearly aware that she had an audience, the woman turned and gave them a little wave, an unmistakable indication that she was accustomed to being observed. The onlookers all visibly deflated, clearly disappointed that their quarry hadn’t turned out to be Brian Leary, a recognizable celebrity or even male. They discontentedly retreated back toward the café, presumably to carry on with their vigil.

  “Who is she?” Sheila squinted to get a better look as the woman, seemingly unaffected by the crowd’s reaction, scanned the town like Anne taking in her first
sighting of Green Gables.

  “I don’t know....” Courtney pressed her nose to the window.

  The door to the offices upstairs opened and Mr. Bloom appeared, his smile gleaming. He moved toward the car as the woman whirled to face him, then shut her door and all but ran to throw herself into his open arms.

  Courtney made a choking sound, as if her mouth couldn’t keep up with her mental response. “I know exactly who that is. That’s Mr. Bloom’s producer friend.”

  “What?” Sheila studied the beautiful Rita Hayworth look-alike who had wrapped herself around Mr. Bloom as if he was her dearest friend. “But I assumed Blair was a man.”

  “So did I.” Despair filled Courtney’s voice, as if she took this turn of events as a personal failure. “I should have realized sooner.”

  “Of course....” Sheila put her hands on the top of the steering wheel and leaned forward to see past the cars parked between them and the scene playing out in front of Moo. “That’s Blair Newman. She’s a producer for the Food Lover’s Network. I’ve seen her at restaurant openings. She’s a big deal on the food-entertainment scene in L.A.”

  Blair was almost as tall as Mr. Bloom and slender without being skinny. She was dressed in pants and a short tailored jacket in a shade of pink that Sheila ordinarily detested but that set off Blair’s porcelain skin. Her hair fell in thick waves to just past her shoulders and swept back from her face in a way that appeared to be natural but had probably taken great effort to achieve. But the thing that really struck Sheila was that from this distance she looked about thirty but was probably closer to fifty.

  Courtney’s head bobbed. “I read all about her back when I was researching Mr. Bloom because I wanted to work for him.”

  “‘Researching’?” Sheila tittered. “Is that what you call reading the tabloids?”

  Courtney shot her a defensive look. “They weren’t all tabloids.”

  Sheila looked at the pair as they talked animatedly and the woman pulled Mr. Bloom into her arms again. “Wow, that hug looks like she means business.”