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“Come on. You’ve always wanted to move back to Wilder. Here’s a prime opportunity!”
“Or excuse?” She eyed the other woman speculatively. “Let’s be honest, Reese, I am not the be-all-end-all everyone thought I’d become.”
“That’s your own personal opinion.”
She snickered. “You are so biased. I haven’t done anything to warrant the star treatment I receive when I come back to town. Especially lately. Face it, Reese, my star has burned out. I’m in Luckenbach for a reason. Waylon had it right in his song—it’s a laid-back state of mind I currently embrace. Just me and my cakes. You really think anyone in Wilder is going to find that glamorous?”
“They’ll appreciate the fact that you’re actually doing what you want.” Reese studied her a moment, then asked, “You ever gonna tell me what happened in Nashville when you were recently offered that second recording deal?”
She sighed. “The recording deal was as shady as the people offering it. They are the very reason I hightailed it to Luckenbach. I’m not interested in rolling in the muck with a bunch of con men.”
“Couldn’t Casey help you out? Or even Waylon’s widow, Jessi Colter? You two hit it off when you toured with her husband. Surely they know the difference between legitimate producers and shifty ones.”
“Let sleeping dogs lie, Reesie. I’m not even interested in making another CD right now, anyway. I only agreed to meet with the supposed up ’n coming ‘label’—ha, ha, joke’s on me—because of that good-lookin’ son of a bitch Mac Willett. Some manager he turned out to be.” And an even worse boyfriend. Hell, the latter wasn’t even a word she could bring herself to associate with him anymore.
Asshole was about the only description that fit him. Well, that and criminal. By a lot.
It pricked her nerves to have been blindsided by his bright white smile and clean-cut, all-American looks. Actually, the mere thought of him did more than prick her nerves. Anger flashed through her, but she kept herself in check, saying, “Bottom line is, I’m happy in Luckenbach. So thanks for the offer, but…no thanks.”
Reese made a soft tsking noise. “Oh, Sky. You know better than to say no to me. Just makes me more determined to cajole you until you start singing my tune.” She took Sky’s hand and tugged on it.
“Cajole is not the word I’d use when it comes to you. Try nag me to death.”
“Whatever it takes,” Reese said with a wicked grin. She tugged harder. “I’m the only one who knows what you really want—and it involves more than cake baking. This is the perfect place to master your desserts and write that recipe book you’ve always wanted to. So let me give you the grand tour.”
Sky dug in her boot heels. They’d been friends since early childhood and Reese truly did know Sky better than anyone. But how on Earth had she come to the conclusion that Sky would know what to do in a kitchen that likely served hoity-toity desserts a novice such as herself knew very little about?
Like petit fours. What the hell were they, anyway? A miniature confection or an appetizer? The French had complicated the fuck out of that one with the different varieties and numerous serving possibilities.
“Reese,” she said, “this appears to be a very regal-looking, fine-dining type establishment. I make cakes that are shaped like armadillos, wagon wheels and stagecoaches.”
Her friend laughed. “You’re the one who taught me how to bake. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t know the egg white from the yolk. So relax already.”
“Yeah, right.”
Reese pouted and batted her lashes. “Just try it for a couple of months, until I find someone who would actually enjoy working with me?”
“Low blow, Reese.”
“Hey,” she said, the pout vanishing. “I’ll resort to the lowest of lows to talk you into this. Stoop so far down, I have to stare up at you.”
“Better get on your knees, honey. We’re the same damn height.”
“You’re really not helping your plight any,” Reese said in a droll tone. “Aren’t you listening to me? I am willing to do anything. So just have a look around. Meet the staff. Let me introduce you to the owner of the newly opened Painted Horse Ranch & Inn—not to mention the love of my life. His name is Caleb Bennett. I did show you the ring, right?”
“Nearly blinded me when the sun hit it. I am too envious to even ask how many carats that sucker is. It’s a wonder you can even lift your hand.”
Reese beamed. “He does spoil me. And boy-howdy, I forgot to mention the best part about this gig I’m offering—Caleb has a brother.” She wagged her chestnut-colored brows. “Former Marine and just about the sexiest damn thing in Wilder, Texas. My fiancé excluded, of course.”
“Now you’re just plain pushing my buttons.” She tore her hand from Reese’s vise grip and added, “In fact, I’m getting back in my car.”
“Skylar Travis,” Reese said as she stomped her foot on the gravel drive. She always used Sky’s full name when she had a serious point to make. “There is nothing wrong with letting your friends help to better your situation. I know this personally. If it weren’t for Nadine Sadler, Jess and George Mills, Ryan and Ginger Bain, and Jack and Liza Wade, I never would have given Caleb the time of day, ended up madly in love, way over that lying, cheating ex-husband of mine—Tommy—and now the manager of this beautiful inn.”
Sky tried to keep up. “Ryan, the reverend’s nephew, married Ginger, Wilder’s lingerie princess? And perpetually single Jack tied the knot? Who’s Liza?”
“A crazy New Yorker who actually threw a dart at a map of Texas and impulsively moved here. And guess what? She ended up one hellaciously happy woman because of it.”
Sky’s eyes narrowed on Reese.
