A Recipe for Reunion. Vicki Essex
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Helen and Terrence Stephens.”
Steph smiled back. “They should be around here somewhere. I’m their daughter, Stephanie.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.” He held out a big, weathered hand. “Wyatt Brown. Your folks were kind enough to invite me over to meet the neighbors.” He had the slightest accent, one she couldn’t place.
“Wyatt.” Helen hurried over. “So glad you could come. I see you’ve met my lovely daughter, Stephanie. You can call her Steph.”
Ah. Now Steph understood. This must be the rancher her mother had mentioned.
She gave him a once-over and decided her mother’s taste wasn’t terrible. In a pair of khakis, a green Ralph Lauren sweater and mud-stained loafers, he looked like a model out of a magazine. More Sears catalog than GQ, though. He was one of those big guys whose bodies were built for hard work. Thick muscles bulged as he shifted, stretching his clothes in interesting ways. Compared to the rancher, Aaron was a stick. Not that she was comparing the two.
Helen handed the rancher a glass of punch. “Stephanie, come out from behind there and show Wyatt around the house, won’t you? I’ll go get your father.” With that, she flitted off.
Real subtle, Mom. “Sorry about that. She can get overly enthusiastic at times.”
“I don’t mind.” His relaxed air put her at ease. He didn’t push, which was nice, but he wasn’t backing off, either. “Your mother’s talked a lot about you. Good things only, I promise.”
She was sure her mom hadn’t ever had a bad thing to say about her daughter to anyone.
She led Wyatt on a tour of the house with its many guest rooms, offices and her mother’s craft room. It had always seemed too big for the three of them, but they had friends stay over frequently. She and Wyatt chatted as they made their way back to the party. “My mom mentioned you’re a rancher and that you just moved here.”
“My folks have an operation in Australia, but we’re from Montana originally. I wanted to branch out, so I bought a nice piece of land not too far from here. We’re getting our first heads of cattle next week.”
“That sounds interesting.”
He chuckled. “You don’t have to be polite. Most people glaze over the moment I start talking shop.”
She stifled a laugh. Mom had always told her to look interested even if she had no idea what a person was saying, but she was glad she didn’t have to pretend too hard. Wyatt went on, “You’re a baker, right?”
“Well...I was.” She looked down.
“What happened?”
“I kind of...quit.” Ugh. She sounded like a total flake.
“What made you leave?”
“It’s a long story.”
The corner of his mouth hitched up, revealing a dimple. “I’ve got time.”
She shuffled her feet, embarrassed she’d even brought it up. “Well, it’s this guy...my boss, I guess you could say. He’s taking over Georgette’s Bakery—”
His eyes lit up. “That’s the place everyone keeps telling me to visit.”
“Oh, yeah. Bar none, the best baked goods in a hundred miles. People come in droves on the weekend and—” She stopped suddenly. This was the first weekend she hadn’t worked in months. Years, even. At this time of day, she’d be baking for Sunday. Regret gnawed at her and she worried her lower lip. “Anyhow, we don’t agree on some things.”
“About the business?”
“Well, that, and he thinks I’m stupid.”
His face darkened. “He said that?”
She winced, drawing out her response. “Not exactly.” She hugged her elbows. “But I know he thinks it. We went to high school together and he used to have a crush on me...” Good Lord, why was she even telling him this?
Wyatt’s crooked smile was knowing. “I take it you didn’t return the feeling?”
“I had a boyfriend at the time. Aaron was nice and all, but he was...” The word that automatically came to mind was pathetic. Dale had called him that a lot—a pathetic loser. Aaron had always been kind of intense around her, breathing down her neck to make sure she copied and returned his notes instead of letting her take them home, and looming over her to return those pens that one day. “Well, he wasn’t my type.”
Wyatt smirked. “So you think he’s getting back at you now?”
“Maybe.” She released another huff. “No. I don’t think he’s being mean intentionally. I think he thinks because I didn’t graduate and I’m still here in Everville and never went to college...” She was babbling. Mom had always warned her about boring people. She tossed her hair and gave a weak laugh. “I’m overthinking it. I’m sure it must sound silly to you.”
“It’s not silly to want to do something with your life that makes you happy,” he said seriously. “And from what I gather, this job made you happy.”
“It did.” Her shoulders slumped. “I screwed that up.”
“You’re being too hard on yourself.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “If you love something enough, you’ll find a way to make it happen.”
She dipped her head self-consciously. Wyatt was only being nice, she told herself, though awfully touchy-feely considering they’d just met. “Thanks. I guess I need time to process it.”
“Oh, look at you two!” Helen bustled up, face radiant. “I’m so glad you’re hitting it off. Didn’t I say she’d like you, Wyatt? You two are perfect for each other!”
Steph dropped the rancher’s hand as if it were a live grenade, blushing furiously. She wasn’t feeling anything beyond the beginnings of a friendship with Wyatt. He was a nice guy who’d been patient enough to listen to her ramble. That was all.
“Leave those two alone, Helen. You’ll scare the poor man off.” Steph’s father strode up and vigorously shook Wyatt’s hand in greeting. Steph had inherited his sturdy height and kind eyes, as well as his brass-blond hair, though his was going a distinguished silver at the temples. A splash of barbecue sauce glistened on his white shirt collar. When Helen spotted it, she exclaimed loudly and attacked him with a napkin.
“Happy birthday, Terrence,” the rancher said above Helen’s head. “You have a lovely home and a wonderful family. You’re a lucky man.”
“It’s true.” He gently extricated himself from his wife’s fussing. “Come on, I want you to meet some people.” He led him off, leaving Steph with her mother.
Helen crushed her fingers in her grip. “He’s nice, right? Didn’t I say he was?”
Steph shook her off. “He’s fine. But stop pushing for something that’s not going to happen.”
“Why not? Didn’t he tell you about his ranch? The man owns three hundred acres south of Everville, prime real estate. He’s worth upwards of a hundred million, you know.”
“Mom!” Steph was appalled. Her mother wasn’t usually this shallow. “How can you talk about him like some kind of...gold digger?”
Helen gave her a pooh-pooh look. “Nice is nice, but honey sweetens the pot. I’m simply looking out for you, baby.”
Steph glared. She grabbed her mother’s arm and tugged her into the empty den, temper reaching the boiling point. “I’ve told you, I’m not ready for a serious relationship.”
Her mother folded her arms. “I don’t see why not. You’ve quit your job. How else are you going to fill your time?”
Steph