CHAPTER ONE
A NA R AQUEL H OPKINS knew for sure that Greg Clary was the most annoying man on the planet. He was the kind of annoying that got under your skin and made you want to scream. It was like being in the mood for guacamole only to discover that someone had taken all your deliciously ripe avocados. Or, worse, taken them and made their guacamole out of those avocados and now people were saying it was better than yours. That was how annoying Greg Clary was.
Ana Raquel stared at the sign hanging from the rustic building at the Condor Valley Winery in the fall afternoon. The hand-carved square of wood said only Café. So simple, so right. While sheâd been off studying the art of cooking, Greg had been working his way up the kitchen ranks right here in Foolâs Gold. Six months ago heâd opened Café in his uncleâs winery and the restaurant was getting rave reviews. Everyone was talking about it. And Greg.
After graduating from culinary school, she, too, had worked in restaurants, but hers had been in San Francisco. After a couple of years, sheâd discovered that while she loved making delicious food for people, she didnât love working in a restaurant. A visit to a street fair had introduced her to the magic that was street foodâdelectable concoctions made in a mobile kitchen. Sheâd saved her money, bought an old Airstream and had it refurbished as her traveling kitchen. Then sheâd brought it home to Foolâs Gold, where she planned to take the culinary world by storm.
Only Greg had beaten her to the punch with his stupid...um, great...Café.
Seventeen years ago, when Ana Raquel was in the second grade, sheâd been chosen to be Cinderella in the school play. Greg had been picked to play Prince Charming and, in the end, heâd gotten all the applause. In junior high, theyâd both run for student council president. Greg had won, leaving her with the runner-up vice president position. In high school, sheâd been nominated for homecoming queen and heâd been nominated for homecoming king.
You can probably guess who won and who didnât.
All of which she could live with, except for what had happened the night of their senior prom.
The fancy dinner and dance had been held at the Gold Rush Ski Lodge and Resort, just as it was every year. There had been a band and good food. Most of the teens went in groups rather than with datesâone of those town traditions, she supposed. For reasons she still couldnât explain, Ana Raquel had chosen that night to confront Greg about all his transgressions.
But instead of going up to him and yelling, sheâd found herself mesmerized by his dark eyes and easy smile. And maybe a little by how good he looked in a tux. Still, sheâd had righteous indignation on her side and she knew she really should be telling him off. Only what should have been yelling somehow turned into kissing. And kissing turned into, well, you know.
She could have lived with the biggest mistake of her life except that, partway through, heâd figured out it was her first time, which meant it wasnât his. Worse, in the middle of the moment, sheâd had a second realization. It was the teeny, tiniest bit possible that she had feelings for Greg. Romantic, what-if-Iâve-secretly-loved-him-my-whole-life kind of feelings.
Talk about a mistake. Greg wasnât just popular, he was a chick magnet. She would have been little more than one more girl who fell for him. Terrified and humiliated, sheâd done the only thing that made sense. Sheâd run off to culinary school in San Francisco.
Now she was back in Foolâs Gold and all grown-up. She was a nice person, she told herself. Friendly. She liked people and she adored making them happy with her food. If not for Greg, her life would be perfect.
But she had a solution for that problem and an appointment with the townâs mayor to discuss her brilliant idea. One
A NA R AQUEL H OPKINS knew for sure that Greg Clary was the most annoying man on the planet. He was the kind of annoying that got under your skin and made you want to scream. It was like being in the mood for guacamole only to discover that someone had taken all your deliciously ripe avocados. Or, worse, taken them and made their guacamole out of those avocados and now people were saying it was better than yours. That was how annoying Greg Clary was.
Ana Raquel stared at the sign hanging from the rustic building at the Condor Valley Winery in the fall afternoon. The hand-carved square of wood said only Café. So simple, so right. While sheâd been off studying the art of cooking, Greg had been working his way up the kitchen ranks right here in Foolâs Gold. Six months ago heâd opened Café in his uncleâs winery and the restaurant was getting rave reviews. Everyone was talking about it. And Greg.
After graduating from culinary school, she, too, had worked in restaurants, but hers had been in San Francisco. After a couple of years, sheâd discovered that while she loved making delicious food for people, she didnât love working in a restaurant. A visit to a street fair had introduced her to the magic that was street foodâdelectable concoctions made in a mobile kitchen. Sheâd saved her money, bought an old Airstream and had it refurbished as her traveling kitchen. Then sheâd brought it home to Foolâs Gold, where she planned to take the culinary world by storm.
Only Greg had beaten her to the punch with his stupid...um, great...Café.
Seventeen years ago, when Ana Raquel was in the second grade, sheâd been chosen to be Cinderella in the school play. Greg had been picked to play Prince Charming and, in the end, heâd gotten all the applause. In junior high, theyâd both run for student council president. Greg had won, leaving her with the runner-up vice president position. In high school, sheâd been nominated for homecoming queen and heâd been nominated for homecoming king.
You can probably guess who won and who didnât.
All of which she could live with, except for what had happened the night of their senior prom.
The fancy dinner and dance had been held at the Gold Rush Ski Lodge and Resort, just as it was every year. There had been a band and good food. Most of the teens went in groups rather than with datesâone of those town traditions, she supposed. For reasons she still couldnât explain, Ana Raquel had chosen that night to confront Greg about all his transgressions.
But instead of going up to him and yelling, sheâd found herself mesmerized by his dark eyes and easy smile. And maybe a little by how good he looked in a tux. Still, sheâd had righteous indignation on her side and she knew she really should be telling him off. Only what should have been yelling somehow turned into kissing. And kissing turned into, well, you know.
She could have lived with the biggest mistake of her life except that, partway through, heâd figured out it was her first time, which meant it wasnât his. Worse, in the middle of the moment, sheâd had a second realization. It was the teeny, tiniest bit possible that she had feelings for Greg. Romantic, what-if-Iâve-secretly-loved-him-my-whole-life kind of feelings.
Talk about a mistake. Greg wasnât just popular, he was a chick magnet. She would have been little more than one more girl who fell for him. Terrified and humiliated, sheâd done the only thing that made sense. Sheâd run off to culinary school in San Francisco.
Now she was back in Foolâs Gold and all grown-up. She was a nice person, she told herself. Friendly. She liked people and she adored making them happy with her food. If not for Greg, her life would be perfect.
But she had a solution for that problem and an appointment with the townâs mayor to discuss her brilliant idea. One
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