Mountain Man’s Curvy Christmas Temptation (Grumpy Christmas Mountain Man #20)

Rachel

I’m the only worker at the Alpine Peak lodge in Crescent Ridge that wasn’t born on this mountain. Hailing from Denver, the small Colorado town seemed like the perfect place to gain experience after culinary school. They needed a pastry chef, and I needed a job.

The holiday season is in full swing, and I’ve baked enough pies, cookies, and muffins to feed the guests through Christmas. I’m cleaning up my section of the kitchen, wiping down the countertops, and putting away the rolling racks when Yesenia finds me.

She’s an older woman with a flawless shiny bun of silver hair and enough lines on her face to show she’s living a full life. She’s also my boss, and best friends with Hayley, the owner of the lodge.

“Rach, you shouldn’t be here this late!” she scolds. “The others left ages ago!”

“Special request from the Murphy party,” I tell her. “Bride wanted a pecan pie for her wedding instead of a cake.”

“You can’t feed two hundred people with a single pie,” she mutters. “How many did you have to bake?”

“Twenty-five.”

“Ouch.”

“But I made an even thirty so the staff and other guests can have some too.”

“You’re an angel, Rach. An absolute angel.”

Her eyes drift over the spotless kitchen, and then she’s turning back to me, pleased to find everything in order.

“You could have your own bakery,” she tells me.

It might seem odd for a boss to encourage her employee to quit but I was upfront about my dream of owning my own shop when she hired me.

It’s the reason I went to culinary school and the reason I moved up to this remote mountain town.

Sugar Crossing is famous in Denver, and I drove up here seeking a job at the family-owned bakery.

They didn’t need my help, but the newly opened lodge did. Their pastry chef backed out a week from the grand opening two months ago and I was available.

“Crescent Ridge already has one,” I remind her. “This town isn’t big enough for two.”

She nods, her smile melting into a frown. I’m right and she knows it. Sugar Crossing is amazing. Sam Carmichael makes the best bear claws in the state.

“I don’t suppose you’ll stay in town forever then,” she says, her tone sad.

Something about disappointing the other woman has me revealing a secret I’ve barely been able to admit to myself.

“I want to,” I confess.

A sharp gleam enters her eye, and I feel like a fish she’s caught on a hook.

“It wouldn’t have to be a bakery,” she says slowly. “It could be a little café on the corner of Main.”

“I was thinking about opening one up. A place where the pie is famous and the muffins are lighter than air.”

“You’ll need servers,” she mutters to herself.

I agree, thinking about the startup cost I’ve been saving for the last three years, which has just tripled. I replaced my car’s alternator last week and it nearly wiped my savings account clean.

“I need an investor.”

“I know just the man.”

Eyeing her skeptically I wait for her to pitch her idea.

“Dominic is the perfect man for you.”

“Yesenia!”

“For your cafe!” she replies. “He can be your investor!”

She avoids my stare, and I’m sure this is her first attempt at setting me up.

I’m not close with the other chefs yet, but they’ve all told me about her matchmaking.

Nigel, the sous chef, met his wife thanks to Yesenia’s meddling.

And the others all have friends, cousins, or neighbors that have gotten hitched thanks to her.

It's sweet of her to try, but I’m not looking for a husband or even a boyfriend right now. I need to save my money, and once I open my restaurant, I won’t have time for dating for at least a few years. Mr. Perfect is going to have to wait.

“I’m not going to pitch my business plan to all the eligible bachelors of Crescent Ridge.”

“Just the one,” Yesenia insists. “He’s a reclusive billionaire with a love of all things cinnamon. I’m sure he’d love to add a restaurant to his portfolio.”

“Cinnamon?” I repeat.

“You could take him one of those apple pies you make with the crushed crust.”

“Apple crumble,” I correct her.

“Yes! And one of your tarts! Oh, and you have to take cookies. That man has a sweet tooth like no other.”

She pulls a wicker basket out of the storage room where we keep all the seasonal holiday displays. The basket is from the Thanksgiving display we made look like a cornucopia.

“Take some muffins too,” she says as she walks around packing the basket as I stand by in shock.

“It’s two days until Christmas,” I remind her.

“Perfect time!” she replies. “Catch him when he’s in a cheerful mood!”

“By interrupting his holiday plans with his family?”

“He’s single,” she says with a dismissive wave of her hand.

“Yesenia…”

“Just pitch your idea,” she urges me. “The worst he can do is turn you down.”

“Or toss me out into the snow.”

She stops abruptly, all warmth leaving her expression.

“He would never,” she hisses.

“Surely this can wait until after the first of the year,” I try to dissuade her again. “I just want to crawl back to my apartment and sleep for a week. Popping up randomly at this man’s house isn’t my idea of a good time.”

“Rachel.” She slides the basket across the stainless-steel prep table. “I insist.”

My bed is calling but even as Yesenia grabs another pie, I know I’m not headed home yet. I’m going to meet her mysterious billionaire.

Nothing might come of it, but if she’s right, this could be my chance. My mother used to say that miracles don’t just happen. You have to put in the work for the universe to meet you halfway. As the snow falls, I leave the Alpine Peak lodge and my skepticism behind.