Rust Creek Falls Cinderella. Melissa Senate

      Could he be here to see her? If he wasn’t interested in her—and he sure hadn’t seemed to be last night with that not-kiss thing—wouldn’t he avoid where she worked?

      But then she thought of him and the reaction he must get from women, and she was flooded with doubts. There was no way Lily of the hoodie and sneakers would be Xander Crawford’s type. When she was young and girls at school would make fun of her for being a tomboy, her mother would always say, You’re exactly as you should be—yourself. That had always made Lily feel better. And maybe Xander liked a down-to-earth woman with flour on her cheek and smelling of onions and caramelized shrimp and peppercorns.

      Anything was possible. That was the name of the game.

      She smiled at the thought, adding a pinch of garam masala to table twelve’s sauce since they were honeymooners who’d just returned from India. For table fourteen, visitors from Maine, she added a dash of Bell’s Seasoning, a famed New England blend of rosemary, sage, oregano and other spices.

      Lily worked on five more entrées, her apron splattered, her mind moving so fast she could barely think about Xander in the dining room, eating her food right now. Was he enjoying it? Did it hit the spot? Did it bring a little bit of Texas to Montana today?

      “Five-minute break if you need it,” Gwendolyn called out to her. “Your tables are all freshly served so you’re clear.”

      “Ah, great,” she said, grabbing her water bottle and taking a big swig, staring out the long, narrow window at the Montana wilderness at the back of the Manor.

      “I just had the best French dip sandwich of my life,” a deep voice said from behind her, and she almost jumped.

      Xander! Standing right there.

      “Craziest thing,” he said. “I took two bites and started thinking about the ranch I grew up on in Dallas, my dad teaching me and Hunter how to ride a two-wheeler. I was a little mad at my dad earlier, and now I’m full of good memories, so he’s back out of the doghouse.”

      “You can’t be in here,” she whispered, trying to hide her grin. She shooed him out the back door, the breezy August air so refreshing on her face. “So you loved the French dip?”

      “Beyond loved it. It tasted like...home. I know this is home now, but that sandwich reminded me of Texas in a good way. And I left behind some things I’d like to forget.”

      Huh. Like what? she wondered. A bad relationship? His heart?

      “It’s a little trick my mother taught me when I was young,” she said, making herself keep her mind on the conversation. “My maternal grandparents moved to Montana from Louisiana, and my grandmother would add just a dash of creole seasoning to everything she cooked here because it reminded her of the bayou. My mama was a little girl when they left the South, and she never forgot that taste, so she taught me about it. Now I try to add a little taste of home in all my orders. It’s easy for the waiters to get a personal tidbit about where they’re from or have just been.”

      He stared at her for a moment, his dark eyes unreadable. What was he thinking? “You’re not an everyday person, Lily Hunt.”

      She wasn’t sure how to take that. “Uh, thank you?”

      He smiled. “I mean that in the best way possible. I’m not sure I’ve ever met someone like you. You have a bit of the leprechaun in you.”

      She narrowed her eyes at him. “Aren’t leprechauns supposed to be the worst kind of mischievous?”

      “Magical. That’s what I meant. You’ve got a bit of magic in you.” His voice held a note of reverence, and she was so startled by it, so overwhelmed, that she couldn’t speak.

      “I have to have another French dip,” he said. “For the road. It was so good I feel like I should get seven to go for my brothers and dad. In fact, can you take that order?”

      She grinned. “Absolutely.”

      “Good. Maybe they’ll get off my case about last night’s date and stop asking me all kinds of questions. I tried to tell them we’re just friends, that it wasn’t really a date date, since you were fixed up with Knox. But you know how brothers are.”

      Her heart sank to her stomach, so she wasn’t capable of speech at the moment. All she could manage was a deep everlasting sigh of doom.

      Why had she let herself believe a nutty fantasy that this man, six foot two, body of Adonis, face of a movie star, a man who could have any woman in this town, would go for the tomboy with red hair who smelled like onions? Why? Was she that delusional?

      I love how passionate you are, he’d said more than once in the very short time they’d known each other.

      She wasn’t delusional. She was passionate about life—and love, even if she’d never experienced it. She sure knew what incredible heart-pounding lust felt like, though. Because she felt it right now. With Xander Crawford.

      This is what it feels like to fall in love. And it was impossible to stop, like a speeding train, even if the object of her affection just told her “it wasn’t a date date” and they were “just friends.”

      Just friends.

      Get back to earth, she told herself. Go make his seven French dips to go.

      “Well, back to work!” she said too brightly, and dashed inside, then realized she’d left him high and dry in the back and he’d have to find his way around to the front of the hotel to return to the dining room.

      He’ll manage, she thought as she got back to her station to prepare his order. She saw him sneak and dart through the kitchen, her heart leaping at the quick sight of him. Sigh, sigh, sigh.

      “Lily, you’re amazing,” her boss said. “Seven French dips to go for table three?” Gwendolyn was beaming at her, so at least she had big love at work if not in her personal life.

       Forget Xander Crawford and focus on where you want to be next year: owning your own catering shop or little café, whisking your customers away to home.

      Sure. As if she could forget Xander for a second.

       Chapter Three

      “Am I right?” Xander asked his brothers and father as they sat on the backyard patio of the Ambling A, gobbling up their French dips. “Is this incredibly delicious or what?”

      The Crawfords were so busy eating they barely stopped long enough to agree. Knox held up his beer at Xander. Hunter said he wanted two more.

      “I’ll tell you what I’m right about,” his father said, taking a huge bite of his sandwich. “That you went to Maverick Manor for lunch just so you could see the pretty chef again. Admit it.”

      “Yeah, admit it,” Finn said with a grin.

      What was that old line? No good deed went unpunished? No way would he ever bring these gossips a good lunch again! “I went because I was hungry. So how’s the roof on the barn coming, Logan?” he asked his eldest brother, hoping the others would shut the hell up.

      “Logan, tell Xander instead how wonderful married life is,” his dad said. “Someone special to come home to at the end of a long, hard day.”

      Oh, brother. Literally.

      Logan laughed, finishing the rest of his French dip and taking a sip of his beer. “First, that was damned good. Compliments to your chef, Xan.”

      “She is not my chef!” Xander shouted.

      Six Crawfords laughed. One stewed in his chair.

      “Second, Dad is right,” Logan said. “Finding Sarah changed my life. Nothing