and just the crags at the very top were lit up golden. A breeze shuffled through, chilling her skin. “When I’m dancing, I’m happy.”
“Well, that’s good to hear. You dance a lot, so that means you’re happy a lot.” Samantha must have felt the chill, too, because she shivered. “Let’s go in. I forgot to tell you, Jack has something really amazing planned for dinner.”
With one last look at the peaceful pasture, Jenna turned to follow her friend back to the house. For the first time in a week, she felt as if she was walking on solid ground. It might be hard to help plan a wedding right now, but Jenna was glad she was in this beautiful place, with the love and support of her best friend. There was comfort here, and she was grateful for any scrap of it she could get.
“JACK’S OPENING A RESTAURANT?” Jenna stood in front of the mirror in the elegant guest bathroom, staring at the dark circles under her eyes. She took another sip of the cappuccino she’d begged Jack to make her.
“Investing in it.” Samantha looked up from her exploration of Jenna’s makeup bag. “You always have the best stuff. Sparkly mascara? And look at this eye shadow—it’s turquoise!”
“Well, you know how ballroom dancers are. We love our makeup. The more outrageous, the better!” Jenna yawned, trying to cover it with her arm. She picked up her lip liner and repaired her ruby-red lips. She rarely went anywhere without makeup, and bright red lipstick was one of her essentials. It made her feel like a 1940s movie star.
Samantha set the bag down. “Anyway, his friend, who’s going to be the co-owner and chef, wants to come cook us all dinner and try out some stuff for the menu. But I think you’re too tired. I’ll tell Jack to reschedule.”
“No, don’t,” Jenna said quickly. “I don’t want to cause a hassle when you guys have set this up already.”
“We can do it another night.”
“The poor chef has probably been prepping food all day.” Jenna dabbed some concealer under her eyes. “There. I’ll just cover up the evidence and be good as new.”
“If you’re sure,” Samantha said. “I promise that tomorrow we’ll spend the entire day in our pajamas. You can sleep in, we’ll look at magazines and then we’ll go to bed as early as you want.”
“Deal,” Jenna said, adding on a little blush before turning around. “So let’s go down to dinner. Here I was, thinking life on the ranch would involve some barbecue at best, and you’ve got a fancy chef coming!” Jenna laughed. “Your life is never dull, Sam.”
“Jack keeps it interesting, always.” Samantha smiled as she spoke.
Jenna drained her coffee cup and hooked her arm under her friend’s. “I promise that tomorrow, when we’re in our jammies, we’ll talk all about your wedding.” Maybe after a good night’s sleep she’d be able to do it without falling apart. They started down the stairs. “So who is this mysterious chef, anyways?”
“Someone Jack knows from when he lived in New York. It turns out he grew up out here and moved back recently. He’s really excited about the restaurant. Can you imagine, four-star cuisine in Benson?”
“Will there be anyone to eat it? This town’s like a postage stamp. Smaller. It’s like the glue on the back of a postage stamp!”
“Jenna! It’s not that small. There are all kinds of people who live outside of town. They’ll be thrilled to have a great place to eat. Plus, we get a lot of tourists.”
“Well, I’m impressed. Jack the restaurant entrepreneur. Is there anything that fiancé of yours doesn’t do?”
“Well, I don’t cook.” Jack was waiting for them at the foot of the stairs with a glass of sparkling wine for each. “Or at least not well. So tonight we get to try out a few of the dishes my partner, Sandro, has been planning for the menu.”
Jenna took the glass he offered, trading him for her coffee cup. “You might not cook but you do provide excellent drinks!”
He laughed. “Thanks, Red. I aim to please.”
A knock on the front door had the dogs jumping up suddenly from their bed by the fire, huffing and growling. “Quiet,” Jack commanded, and went to answer the door, the dogs following on his heels.
“He’s great, isn’t he?” Samantha said, looking after him and sipping her wine.
Jenna felt the nip of jealousy for the second time today and shoved it down hard. “He is a great guy,” Jenna assured her. She walked over to an end table and set her wineglass down. “So let’s go help him out.”
A blast of cold air preceded Jack into the room as he wrestled with the bags of groceries tucked under his arms. Jenna grabbed a bag stuffed with vegetables right before he dropped it, brought it into the kitchen and set it on the granite countertop.
As she turned away, she came up against a chest. An intriguingly muscular chest. It was wrapped up like a present in a tight white T-shirt. But instead of a bow, there was a belt with a silver buckle. A picture of a cowboy on a bucking horse was etched into the silver and Jenna stared at it for a split second before a tanned, lean arm reached around her and set a bottle of wine on the counter. “Hey.” It was a low voice, kind of husky, and she finally looked up.
The owner of the chest, T-shirt, belt buckle and arm took a step back. His skin was olive-toned, and his thick black hair curled over his forehead and down to his collar in the back. Dark brown eyes under black brows studied her face. He smiled and his full lips parted to reveal teeth that were white and just a little crooked.
“Hey,” she managed to whisper back, and in an attempt not to gape at the tall man who looked as if he’d swaggered straight off the streets of Spain or Italy, she reached out and took the cloth grocery bag from his hand and set it on the counter behind her.
“I’m Sandro,” he said quietly.
Of course. Sandro the chef. Couldn’t Samantha have warned her that he was absolutely gorgeous? She was probably so in love with Jack that she hadn’t even noticed. “Stevens. I’m Jenna. I mean...I’m Jenna Stevens.” Her cheeks were on fire and something was wrong with her brain. She stuck out her hand and he took it, wrapping it in his long fingers and giving it a firm shake. “Um, nice to meet you. I’m a friend of Samantha’s. Visiting. From San Francisco.”
“I see. Well, I hope you’re hungry.”
“I’m always hungry,” Jenna blurted out. “I mean, I try not to eat too much—I’m a dancer.... You know, dieting and all.” This was ridiculous. Just a scant hour ago she’d given Samantha a speech about how her focus was going to be on her career, and yet now she couldn’t even think straight, or talk, just because of one good-looking guy. Where were Samantha and Jack? This was awkward.
A noise at the door made her turn in relief but it wasn’t her friends. A boy shouldered in through the kitchen door with a chest cooler clutched in his hands. It looked heavy. “Sandro, you dick! Didn’t you know you could park in the back, right by the door?”
“Paul! Manners, bro,” the tall man commanded.
Paul?
