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said. “What are you watching?”

      “Reality show,” Melba said. “It’s the semifinals.”

      “Do you mind if I use the kitchen for baking tonight?” Cecelia asked.

      Melba shook her head. “Nope. What are you making?”

      “Apple cake with caramel frosting,” Cecelia said.

      “Sounds good. Can you make an extra one for breakfast?” Melba asked.

      “I’m experimenting,” Cecelia warned.

      “Your experiments have always turned out well,” Melba said.

      Cecelia smiled. “Thanks, marvelous Melba.”

      “You make my job easier. This way, I won’t have to make cinnamon rolls for breakfast in the morning.”

      “What about Beth?” Cecelia asked, speaking of the part-time cook Melba had recently hired. Beth Crowder was a middle-aged single mother working multiple jobs while her son finished his last year of high school. Cecelia didn’t know any specifics, but she thought Beth may have been the victim of spousal abuse. Beth often appeared tired with shadows under her eyes, but she also came across as one of the most determined people Cecelia had ever met.

      Melba shook her head. “Beth’s not coming in tomorrow, so your timing is perfect.”

      Cecelia smiled. “If you say so,” she said and turned to walk away.

      “I do and you contribute a lot to the community. Everyone loves you,” Melba said, tearing her gaze from the television. “Don’t you forget that.”

      Cecelia wasn’t sure her contributions made that much of a difference, but Melba made her feel a little better.

      “Thanks, Melba,” she said.

      “My pleasure,” Melba said. “Can’t wait to smell that apple cake.”

      Cecelia headed to the kitchen and pulled out the Granny Smith apples she’d bought earlier. She spent the next thirty minutes dicing apples, trying to chop out her frustration. Eight cups later, she was ready to start on the rest of the recipe. After she put the cakes in the oven, she sank onto a chair in the kitchen and sipped some tea. Baking usually calmed her nerves, but it hadn’t been working as well lately. She had grown to love Rust Creek Falls, but she wanted more. She wanted a family of her own, and she wasn’t finding it here. She wondered if she should get serious about going back to Thunder Canyon.

      Part of the problem with that thinking was that she’d run away from a disappointing love affair in Thunder Canyon. When was she going to stop running?

      Cecelia thought about the accountant she’d dated before he’d broken off with her for someone prettier and more sophisticated. She’d thought he’d taken her on private romantic dates because he had strong feelings for her, but in truth, he hadn’t wanted anyone to know he was dating Cecelia.

      The truth had been devastating. It still stung when she thought about it, and she tried her best not to remember.

      Between that terrible relationship and her lack of finding any real prospects here in Thunder Canyon, Cecelia was beginning to wonder if she would ever find love.

      * * *

      Halfway to the trailers set up on the edge of town, Nick saw Daphne with her head lolled back against the headrest. She was snoring like a freight train. It seemed like he was providing designated driver services to a woman who was clearly one of the Rust Creek Falls Gal Rush every other week or so. He appreciated what Lissa’s blog had done in providing volunteers and funds for Rust Creek Falls, but even Nick felt as though the resulting “Gal Rush” was overkill.

      Some of these girls were city through and through and they had no clue how rustic Rust Creek Falls really was, along with how harsh Montana winters could be. Pulling in front of the trailers, Nick had no idea which one was Daphne’s current residence.

      “Daphne,” he said, getting no response. “Daphne,” he said a bit louder, and nudged her arm. “I need to know which trailer is yours so I can help you inside.”

      Five minutes later, he was headed back to the rooming house. As soon as he arrived, he picked up a text message for Maverick for Hire and returned the call. Nick much preferred sticking to business when he was doing handyman services. No need to muddy the water.

      * * *

      Cecelia must have fallen asleep, because the timer awakened her. Lifting her head from the table, Cecelia shook off her drowsiness and checked the cakes. They looked perfect, so she pulled them from the oven and put them on a cooling rack. The scent of cinnamon, apples and vanilla flowed through the air, calming her senses.

      The back door opened and Nick strode into the kitchen. “Smells great. Can I have some?”

      She shot a withering look at him. “Haven’t you had enough sweets tonight?”

      He returned her look with a deadly expression. “You know I wouldn’t take advantage of a drunken woman,” he said. “I got her into her trailer and left. That was the plan.”

      “Hmm,” Cecelia said and frowned.

      “What?” he said. “A woman doesn’t have to be inebriated for me to get laid.”

      Cecelia winced. “That’s a nice way of putting it.”

      “Well, it’s true,” he said and looked at the cakes. “Aren’t they cool enough to eat yet?”

      “Not unless you want to burn your tongue,” she retorted.

      “I’m game,” he said. “I think you’re too conservative.”

      “Okay,” she said and cut a small bite then stuffed it into his open mouth.

      His eyes bulged and he took several shallow breaths. He closed his eyes and made a choking sound.

      Cecelia wondered if she should perform the Heimlich maneuver. “Need water?”

      “Yeah,” he managed.

      She filled a glass and offered it to him. “Here you go.”

      He gulped the water then swiped his mouth. “Thank goodness. Give me more of that cake. Best. Ever.”

      Cecelia couldn’t help laughing. “But you nearly choked and burned yourself.”

      “It didn’t kill me,” he said. “Give me more.”

      For one hot second, she wondered what it would be like for Nick to use those words give me more in a totally different situation. She felt her cheeks heat at the thought. “I need to let them cool. I want to put a caramel glaze on top,” she said and turned away.

      “Whew,” he said. “I didn’t think it could get better, but maybe...”

      Cecelia smiled. She wouldn’t admit it, but Nick’s obvious craving for her baked goods made her feel warm inside. “Melba is going to serve some of it for breakfast tomorrow.”

      “I’ll make sure to get up early. This won’t last long. You’re a doggone good cook, Cecelia. You’re gonna make some man a happy husband, and it will be a sad day for the rest of us.”

      Cecelia rolled her eyes at his long face. “Something tells me you’ll survive.” She lowered her voice. “Plus, there’s no happy husband in my immediate future, so no worries.”

      * * *

      The next morning, Cecelia rose early and ate a quick bite of breakfast before she left to post signs for the food drive she had started for families still struggling after the Great Flood. Then she headed to one of her work sites to make sure the plumbers showed up for a house that needed massive reconstruction. As usual, the plumbers arrived late, but she pushed them to finish the job. After work, she drove throughout the county to post signs for the food drive. By the time she arrived back in Rust Creek Falls, it was dark. She headed to the Ace

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