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It felt strange to be dressed in blue jeans and a polo on a weekday. Back in Boston, Andrew rarely wore jeans. But as he packed for his trip to the land of cowboys and rodeos, he’d tossed in a pair.
The last thing he wanted was to stand out. His plan was to remain inconspicuous until he figured out how best to approach Sylvie.
Andrew had thought about simply popping into her shop. He’d already scouted out her location, so that remained an option. But interrupting her during a business day didn’t feel right, and he was a big believer in going with his gut.
Still, he wouldn’t wait much longer. He’d flown in yesterday. This morning he’d eaten at a local café, the Coffee Pot, and planned his strategy. He was past ready to put to bed the tangled emotions he’d carried with him the last few months. Once he got the answers he sought, he’d return to Boston and move on with his life.
When Sylvie had run off shortly before their wedding, he was stunned. He’d called around, but no one seemed to know where she was, but neither were they surprised. Apparently Sylvie had a reputation for being capricious.
Andrew had decided to give her a few days to come back on her own. Before twenty-four hours had passed, his legs were knocked out from under him a second time. He learned a close childhood friend was dying. All the pain of Sylvie’s leaving had been pushed aside while he dealt with a more immediate crisis.
Shortly after his friend passed away, he’d read an article about the Jackson Hole Wine Auction and Food Festival. A local cake artist, Sylvie Thorne, had been featured.
Andrew had discovered she’d relocated to Jackson Hole. He just hadn’t realized how much seeing her smiling face in that magazine would affect him. His world, which had been off its axis since Sylvie’s leaving, had tipped even further. It still hadn’t fully righted itself.
Even if Sylvie’s name hadn’t been mentioned, Andrew liked to think he’d have recognized her work in the full color photograph of the multilayered wedding cake with the fondant skull. Even when they’d been together and she was still developing as a cake artist, she’d had a recognizable style.
He recalled the cake she’d made for his birthday shortly before she left. It had been a three-layer castle—a Spamalot version—with crooked turrets and gargoyles with big toothy grins.
Cradling the mug in his hands, Andrew stared out the window. He now sat only blocks from the place where she created her masterpieces.
He had to admit he wasn’t sure how it was going to feel to finally be face-to-face with his runaway fiancée.
Andrew lifted the strong brew to his lips and took a long sip. One thing was certain—he’d come for answers.
He wasn’t leaving Wyoming without them.
* * *
Sylvie eased the ancient minivan to the curb a block down from Benedict and Poppy Campbell’s home in Spring Gulch. Instead of hopping out, she remained in the vehicle and tried to recall just why she’d accepted an invitation to the backyard barbecue.
She rarely attended dinner parties or barbecues as a guest. But then, she didn’t meet friends at the Coffee Pot Café after church on Sundays, either. Heck, she didn’t even go to book club, though reading was a favorite pastime.
Part of the reason for her reticence had to do with not growing up in a world where people had dinner parties or barbecues. She hadn’t known book clubs even existed. As a child, she hadn’t known anyone who read for pleasure.
Sylvie and her mom had been too busy trying to survive to think about books. Subsisting on groceries bought with food stamps, their “home” had been a run-down apartment courtesy of public housing.
When her mother took off and left her when she was thirteen, Sylvie had discovered that life was even worse in foster care.
She pushed the painful memories aside and reminded herself those times were over and done. When she’d moved to Wyoming, she promised herself no looking back. She’d stuck to her vow.
With the exception of earlier in the week, when she thought she’d seen Andrew on the streets of Jackson. That night, she’d pulled out her engagement ring and done some reminiscing.
Though her heart still ached whenever she thought of him, Sylvie still believed that leaving Andrew had been the right decision.
Keeping his ring, however, had been wrong.
It didn’t matter that the three-carat diamond had been her last connection to him.
It didn’t matter that the ring wasn’t a family heirloom.
It didn’t matter that she had a good reason at the time for taking the piece of jewelry with her. She’d feared Andrew might be so distraught over her leaving him that he might fling the ring, one that had been specially designed for her, off the Longfellow Bridge and into the Charles.
Sylvie closed her eyes briefly. The trip down memory lane had dumped her spirits into the basement. Would it really be so horrible to drive off? No one had seen her. There was still time for a quick getaway.
The only reason she hesitated was that this party was for Josie. Her friend had made it clear she wanted her maid of honor to attend.
Giving in to the inevitable, Sylvie opened the van door. She stepped out, careful not to brush up against the dusty side of “Ethel,” the 1996 Dodge Caravan she’d purchased shortly after arriving in Jackson Hole.
Though some of the light blue paint had peeled and there was a dent in the back from a shopping cart gone wild, the van started like a dream. Once she’d had the seating in the back removed, it had a good-sized cargo area for hauling cakes.
As Sylvie gazed over all the shiny vehicles lining the street in this affluent Jackson Hole subdivision, it struck her that Ethel didn’t fit in here any more than she did.
Sylvie glanced down at her skirt with its orange, red and black diagonal stripes and hesitated. For tonight’s festivities she’d coupled the skirt with gladiator sandals and a black tank. Skin showed from a few inches above her belly-button ring to just below her navel.
This barbecue would bring together the movers and shakers of Jackson Hole. She’d be as out of place here as she’d have been in Andrew’s world.
Coming tonight had been a mistake.
Sylvie was reaching for the door handle when Tim and Cassidy Duggan pulled behind her van in a shiny red SUV, boxing her in. She heaved a resigned sigh, then walked over to greet Cassidy and her husband.
Marriage and motherhood hadn’t changed Cassidy. The hairstylist wore a bright blue skirt with an animal-print tank. The bold pairing eased Sylvie’s trepidation about her own outfit.
Though Cassidy was married to a prominent pediatrician, from what Sylvie knew of the woman’s background, it mirrored her own humble beginnings.
After an exuberant greeting, Cassidy looped her arm through Sylvie’s on the walk to the house, asking if she’d brought a cake to the barbecue.
“No cake, but I whipped up a batch of cupcake burgers.” Even though Poppy, the hostess, had insisted she didn’t need to bring anything, Sylvie had dropped off the novelty treats earlier in the afternoon.
She’d told Poppy it was so she didn’t have to bring them with her tonight. The truth was, delivering the promised treats early had left the door open to skipping the party.
Cassidy’s husband, Tim, dressed conservatively in khakis and a navy polo, cocked his head. “Cupcake burgers? Sounds like something Esther and Ellyn would enjoy.”
Esther and Ellyn were Tim’s twin girls from his first marriage. A widower, Tim had raised the girls alone until he and Cassidy had married last year.
“I bet they’d love ’em. They sound so unique and fun.” Cassidy tapped a finger against her lips. “Are cupcake burgers difficult to make?”
“Super easy. You start with vanilla cupcakes and a tray of brownies.” As they covered the short distance to the porch, Sylvie explained how she cut circles of brownies for the burger and used colored frosting for the mustard, ketchup and lettuce wedged between the vanilla cupcake “bun.”
“You’re amazingly talented.” The sincerity in Cassidy’s voice had warmth flooding Sylvie’s heart, even before the stylist added, “Not to mention you look absolutely stunning tonight.”
The simple compliment was the confidence booster Sylvie needed as Poppy opened the door. Despite being seven months pregnant with baby number two, the hostess looked elegant in gray linen. She greeted them warmly, giving each of them a quick hug.
Sylvie lost Cassidy and Tim on her way to the back patio. She’d expected to see a grill or two, maybe several picnic tables and a few lawn chairs. Instead an outdoor barbecue “kitchen” embellished with stone accents was the focal point of the large patio. Tea lights hung on brightly colored ribbons from thick branches of leafy trees that provided an umbrella of green.
A pergola extended over an outdoor kitchen bar, where the buffet had been set up. Bouquets of brightly colored flowers sat amid a multitude of decorative bowls filled with a variety of salads. Sylvie spotted her cupcakes with the other desserts. The nearly empty baking-sheet-turned-decorative-fabric-tray told her the cupcakes were a hit.
Benedict and his father, John, manned the grill, which filled the air with the delicious scent of roasting meat. Poppy seemed to be the official greeter while her mother-in-law, Dori, was making sure everyone had a drink and mingled. Unlike parties where hired help did the serving, this barbecue appeared to be a family effort.
Sylvie accepted something called a Crazy Coyote Margarita from Dori, then caught sight of the bride-to-be across the yard chatting animatedly with several women. Josie saw her at the same moment and motioned her over. The excited smile on her friend’s face told Sylvie that coming to the party this evening had been the right decision.
With a spring in her step, Sylvie stepped off the flagstone patio and onto the lush green grass. She had paused to take a sip of her drink when the back of her neck began to prickle.
An instant later, a hand closed around her arm and a familiar masculine scent washed over her.
“Hello, Sylvie.”
She turned and stared into the brilliant gray eyes of Andrew O’Shea.
Chapter Two (#ulink_1e3a0bf8-1c92-58d3-9bb9-bc481e3cfa6c)
From the second Sylvie walked through Ben Campbell’s front door, Andrew didn’t take his eyes off her. Running into Ben, a friend from prep-school days, had been fortuitous. Other than Sylvie, he hadn’t expected to see anyone he knew in Jackson Hole.
The invitation to a barbecue was appreciated, as was Ben’s warm handshake. Yet Andrew had been fully prepared to offer an excuse until Sylvie’s name was mentioned. Ben had been telling some story about his sister, and Andrew had been stunned when his former fiancée’s name popped up.
Congratulating himself on keeping his cool, Andrew had asked if that was the baker who’d recently been featured in an article on Jackson Hole’s Wine Auction.
At Ben’s assurance that they were speaking of the same person, Andrew steered the conversation back to the barbecue and learned Sylvie would be there. He’d accepted the invitation on the spot.
Now she was standing in front of him, looking as beautiful as ever. Her hair was different, not as curly and now with blond tips, but it was her.
While he’d had the advantage of knowing their paths would cross this evening, the look of shock in her eyes mirrored what he was feeling. It made him glad that, at least for the moment, they were alone.
A polite mask settled over her elfin features, and her eyes now gave nothing away. “Andrew. What a surprise. I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Ben and I went to school together.” Hating that he felt as gauche and unsure as a sixteen-year-old, Andrew shoved his hands into his pockets and willed his heart rate to slow.
It didn’t help that she had on the same perfume she’d worn when they were together: a slightly citrusy scent that made him think of orange groves and lovemaking. His pillow had retained the scent for days after she left him.
The hurt that had taken root in his heart since he got her text—a damn text—telling him the engagement was off and she was leaving was still there. But right now that hurt was mixed with an unholy anger that seared his veins.
“I best go back inside.” She spun around and might have escaped through the door, if his reflexes hadn’t been so good.
His hand shot out, closing around her bare arm like a vise. “Don’t walk away. Not again.”
Displaying surprising strength, Sylvie jerked her arm back.
Andrew had been poised for battle until he saw tears pooling in those large violet eyes. Resisting a nearly overwhelming urge to wrap his arms around her, he stepped back and held up his hands.
If she bolted, he wouldn’t stop her. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t get his answers; it just wouldn’t be this evening. He could wait.
“I agree we need to talk.” She brushed back a strand of hair from her face with a hand that trembled slightly. “But this isn’t the time or place. This is a celebration of Noah and Josie’s engagement. I don’t want anything to spoil the evening for them.”
Andrew couldn’t help thinking of the last party he and Sylvie had attended. It had been held at his parents’ home in Boston. Though not a formal engagement party, it had been a family celebration to introduce her to Andrew’s extended family. It had been elegant and tasteful, and Sylvie had hated every minute of the gathering. Andrew suddenly recalled that she’d offered to make a cake for the event, but his mother had demurred that it would offend the caterer.
Both he and Sylvie had known the real reason. His mother was worried about the kind of cake Sylvie would make. He’d let Sylvie down that night, Andrew realized. At the time, it hadn’t seemed a big thing.
But this wasn’t about recriminations and who had dealt the other the biggest slight; this was about achieving closure. “I’m available later.”
The second the words left his lips, he realized it had been a lame thing to say. And when her lips quirked in a slight smile, Andrew realized something else. Her smile still carried quite a punch.
“Tomorrow?” she asked.
He nodded. “Lunch.”
It struck him just how blasted civilized they were being.
She gave a nod.
He pulled out his phone. “Give me your number.”
Sylvie glanced back toward the house and shifted from one foot to the other. “I’ll call you.” She paused. “Unless you’ve changed your number.”
“No change.” His eyes met hers. “You changed yours.”
Sylvie lifted one thin shoulder but offered no excuse. When he cocked his head expectantly, she recited her new number while he keyed it in and then read it back to her.
While the tightness around her eyes revealed her stress, when she spoke, her voice was casual and offhand. “Appears you and I are reconnected.”
They’d been very connected once until she’d abruptly severed the tie he’d been convinced would last forever. She’d done it with a single text. A handful of typed words that said she didn’t love him, couldn’t marry him and didn’t want to see him again.
Yes, they’d once been connected. Not anymore.
* * *
Sylvie wrapped her mouth around a juicy hamburger with avocado relish and peppered bacon and wondered if she could possibly be dreaming. She’d had vivid dreams in the past, all involving Andrew.
Not a single dream had concerned food or a barbecue. Most slipped in during the night hours and were of a sexual nature.
In those dreams, she felt Andrew’s smooth lips against her mouth, her throat and her breast, and his touch heated her body to a boiling point. When she awakened, usually right before full consummation, she was filled with an ache that brought tears to her eyes.
The ache was never simply physical. That Sylvie could easily have handled. The intense longing for the man she’d loved—that was not so easily put aside. Those vivid dreams would drag her down and wreak havoc on her emotions for several days until she became strong enough to put her focus back on the here and now.
If she’d learned one thing from thirteen years with an addict mother and subsequent years in foster care, it was that sometimes just getting through each day was a victory.
“Your friend is really hot.” Josie sidled up beside Sylvie and slipped her arm through hers. She took a sip of her margarita and slanted a sideways glance. “Why is it you never told me about him?”
Seeing the speculative gleam in her friend’s eyes, Sylvie dropped the burger to her plate and waved away the question with a careless hand. “The only hot man we should be discussing tonight is your fiancé.”
A softness filled Josie’s eyes as her gaze strayed to linger on the lean dark-haired man currently speaking with Josie’s father. She gave a little laugh. “Did you ever imagine me with a neurosurgeon?”
“I recall you saying once that I should slap you silly if you ever so much as gave any doctor a second glance.” That conversation had taken place shortly after she and Josie became friends. “Then all of a sudden you’re dating Noah. Now you’re going to marry the guy.”
“What can I say? The heart wants what it wants.” Josie’s tone waxed philosophical. “I can’t imagine my life without him, Syl. I just overlook that he’s a doctor.”
Sylvie chuckled, even as an ache filled her heart. When she was with Andrew, she’d done her best to ignore that her boyfriend was not only a doctor but a zillionaire heir to O’Shea Sports.
She’d been fooling herself, thinking a mutt from the wrong side of the tracks could be a good match with a Boston purebred.
