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Chapter One

Opal

I stare blankly ahead as I run the immersion blender through a berry compote I’m using in the lumberjack breakfast this morning. It’s a down-home kind of plate with bacon, eggs, sausage, biscuits, gravy, and a side of pancakes. I love cooking for the lodge, but breakfast is my favorite meal of the day. I’m not sure why, though I figure it’s the nostalgia of childhood warmth. There’s something about the memories of big, weekend pancake breakfasts that please the little girl in me, and she could use some pleasing these days.

“I know I’m not supposed to interrupt you while you’re cooking, chef, but isn’t that Buck Dalton?” Agnes is the newest hire in the kitchen. I chose her because she has a way with words. You wouldn’t think that words were important in the kitchen, but they are. I’m great at all the technical stuff. I know how to find the perfect mushroom for the perfect tenderloin. I can fillet a fish in just over a minute, temper the perfect chocolate, and bake the perfect crust of sourdough. Ask me to encourage people, though, and I’m lost.

It’s not that I don’t care. I care a lot. I think it’s more about my people skills than anything. It’s that or the fear of confrontation. I’m not sure. I should probably read a self-help book or something.

Agnes, on the other hand, may take a minute longer to fillet a fish, but she’s great at team building, and she bakes cookies for the kitchen almost every night. So far this week, we’ve had snickerdoodle, oatmeal raisin, and white chocolate macadamia nut. The recipes aren’t anything fancy, but they’re easily the best cookies I’ve ever had.

“Earth to Opal.” Agnes widens her grin, showing off the weathered lines on her cheeks. “Buck Dalton, famous country music star and two-time grammy winner, is currently in our kitchen.”

“What?”

She readjusts her glasses as bacon sizzles in the oven behind us. “Where are you today?”

My stomach tightens. “Sorry, Buck Dalton. I can’t see him.”

She nods out through the open concept kitchen into the dining room where the country star is sitting. “What do you mean? He’s right there.”

My heart pounds hard as I glance toward him and away again. “No, I know where he is. I see him… but I can’tseehim, you know?”

“No, honey, I don’t know what you mean. Why can’t you see him?”

I drag in a deep breath and start my immersion blender again, ignoring Agnes’ question in favor of blended berries.

Agnes pulls the cord from the wall and stares at me. “Honey, I know I just got here, and I don’t know what’s bothering you, but you’re gonna tell me now. You’ve got me curious as all hell.”

I know she’s being funny, but I’ve never told anyone about my time with Buck, mostly because they’d probably call me a liar.

“I don’t want him to know I’m here,” I say as I let out the air I’ve been holding.

Her heavy brows wrinkle. “Why not? Do you know each other?”

I bite the inside of my cheek and stare at the pile of dishes next to the sink. The dishwasher doesn’t come in until twelve. Maybe I should change his hours. That space is a disaster.

“No. Well, yes. I mean, he probably doesn’t remember me, anyway.”

“Okay,” Agnes grips my hand in hers and drags me to the office, shutting the door behind her, “tell me everything.”

I lower down in the chair and let out a breath. “There’s nothing to tell. Buck grew up in Whiskey falls and so did I.”

“That’s it? Why would he know you? You’re what… twenty-five? He’s gotta be getting close to forty. Why would your paths cross?”

My eyes roll. “Last year, before he was like a mega big deal… before the Grammys, I ran into him at the diner on Main Street.”

“And,” Agnes presses with a grin.

“And… we talked.”

Now her eyes are rolling. “Girl, apparently I gotta beat this outta ya. I’m gonna need a nap when we’re done here. Why can’t you see that man?”

“We met on the worst terms ever.”

“Okay…”

I drag in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’d just broken up with Edwin.”

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