Chapter One

      “Here, Mom, put this on.”

      Jill Lindstrom put down the lasagna she’d just taken out of the oven, then swung around and met her nine-year-old daughter Zoe’s excited gaze. Zoe had a bottle of Jill’s favorite perfume held high, her finger on the spray button, ready to blast Jill in the face with the scent.

      Jill quickly danced back a step, out of spray range, then raised an eyebrow, dubiously regarding the bottle of perfume. “Geez, Zoe, watch where you point that stuff.”

      Zoe rolled her eyes. “Just put some on.”

      “I already put perfume on this morning,” Jill said, moving to the fridge to take out the Caesar salad she’d made earlier. “I don’t need any more.”

      “C’mon, Mom—”

      Jill held up a hand. “Look, I already wore the jeans and sweater you set out, and I left my hair down as you so forcefully demanded.” She put the salad down and went in search of the salad tongs. “I’m drawing the line at excessive amounts of perfume. We want to welcome Kristy and her dad, not knock them out with loads of Ralph Lauren.”

      Zoe huffed, flicked her blond hair over her shoulder and spun around to leave the kitchen. “Okay, Mom. I’ll be waiting in the living room.”

      Jill watched her go, shaking her head, one side of her mouth quirked. It certainly didn’t take a genius to figure out that Zoe was very, very concerned that Jill look—and apparently smell—her best. Similarly, she suspected it was no coincidence that Kristy’s father was single, just as Jill was.

      Looked as if Zoe and her new best friend were up to a little matchmaking. Was that thanks to the influence of Zoe’s grandpa? Zoe absolutely adored her grandpa, and he had made no secret of his desire to see Jill married again.

      Jill rolled her eyes. No matter who was involved, any matchmaking was a waste of time. Even though it had been six years since her ex-husband, Doug, had left her for another woman, she still wasn’t ready to put her heart, and self-respect, on the line again. She might never be.

      Jill returned to the fridge and dug out the salad dressing and Parmesan cheese. As she gathered up the salad plates, she reiterated to herself how important it was that she not get sucked into any sort of relationship. And not just because she wasn’t ready to open herself up to again being ditched when someone better came along. Although that was a darn good reason all on its own.

      No, she also needed to focus on her restaurant, The Wildflower Grill, and make it a success, an elusive dream she was determined to catch and hold on to.

      Jill took the salad fixings to the dining-room table, her mind going over familiar territory, fueling her desire to become a successful, well-respected businesswoman.

      She was so tired of being known only as the daughter of “Wacky” Winters, Elm Corners, Oregon’s resident inventor. The goofy guy with wild hair and thick, horn-rimmed glasses who ran around wearing a soot-stained apron and bright red hiking boots. Being the only relative of a man who blew up new inventions—and everything else he touched—on a regular basis wasn’t easy.

      Jill returned to the kitchen, a flash of guilt sizzling through her. She wasn’t proud of the way she felt about her dad’s status in town, but there it was.

      He wasn’t a bad man. He’d single-handedly raised Jill since her mother had died when Jill was three—not an easy task—and had always been there when she’d needed him. But there was no getting around the fact that he was the town joke, and she’d always lived in that shadow. Doug leaving her hadn’t helped. It was past time to step out into the light, make something of herself and gain the respect she’d never had. Owning a successful restaurant, being a valued member of Elm Corners’ business community was just the way to do that.

      She bit her lip, well-known worries running through her like a dark tide. She’d slid back in her efforts to step up to the next level of success and finally expand her restaurant as she’d been wanting to do for the past few months.

      Last week, the recently vacated space next door to her restaurant had been snapped up by someone before Jill could negotiate a lease. Just her luck that someone else would not only be opening another restaurant a mere two doors down, but also that they had been able to snatch the coveted lease out from under her nose. She had a mind to march right over to The Steak Place and give the new owner a piece of her mind.

      Just as she picked up the lasagna to take it to the table, the doorbell rang. Following Zoe’s specific instruction that Jill be the one to answer the door—boy, she’d raised a bossy kid—Jill dropped the lasagna off in the dining room, then headed to the front door, meeting an excited-looking Zoe there. Jill calmed the flurry of butterflies that had taken up residence in her tummy. It had been a long time—forever, actually—since a man other than her father had come to dinner.

      She was being ridiculous worrying, though. She had no reason to be nervous. This was dinner with her daughter’s best friend and her dad, nothing more.

      Jill had agreed to the dinner because it was important that she become acquainted with the people her daughter spent time with. Maybe it was overprotective, but besides her dad, Zoe was Jill’s only family, the single most important person in her life. She’d protect her no matter what, even if it meant agreeing to invite to dinner a man she’d never met. They’d enjoy a nice meal, and that would be that.

      Besides, Kristy’s dad—what had Zoe said his name was?—might be