Chapter One: Most Likely to Charm

The last person Amy Wheeler expected to bump into in Ashby Lake was Julian Ward. The Julian Ward—as in, cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass, suits custom enough to make her wallet whimper and a past entangled with hers in glorious high school drama.

Back then, the three of them—Julian, Lance and Amy—had been pure legend. If trouble had a yearbook, they were voted Most Likely to Charm Their Way Out of It. Julian had always been too wild for a small town like this. Too dangerous. Too tempting.

And yet, here he was. In the middle of Ashby Lake. In broad daylight. Wearing tailored sin and a smirk.

She hadn’t seen him since the moment—that delicious, heart-thudding night after Lance had cheated and she’d been angry enough to throw gasoline on the fire of heartbreak. Julian had been the flame. They’d stopped just short of disaster, but her body had remembered every second of almost.

And now?

She was stepping out of her newly purchased building when she heard the voice that once turned her spine into jelly.

“Amy? What are you doing here?”

Julian pulled her into a hug like no time had passed at all. She leaned in—because why not stir the pot a little?—and kissed him on the cheek. She caught the woman next to him practically throwing daggers with her eyes. Well, well. That was fun.

“I just bought this building, Julian. How are you?” she asked sweetly, squeezing his arm and locking eyes like a challenge.

Jealous Dagger-Eyes was steaming. Amy clocked the storm brewing in her expression with a flicker of amusement.

“And your friend?” Amy asked, tipping her head, dialing up the sweetness just shy of sticky.

Julian made the introductions. “Cassidy Dahl, Amy Wheeler.”

Amy offered her hand. Cassidy offered a smile that could curdle cream. “Pleased to meet you,” Cassidy said, with all the enthusiasm of a MOT line.

“Let’s grab a coffee and catch up,” Julian said, already steering her toward a building called The Perch.

Amy smirked at Cassidy. “Julian, be nice,” she said low, catching the flicker of hurt on Cassidy’s face.

Julian shrugged, unconcerned. “She’s just a reporter.”

Oof. Ice cold.

As they settled into the fishing shop/coffee shop that looked like something out of the Red Green show, Julian glanced at her hand.

“No ring. I thought you and Lance were supposed to be married by now.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well, sometimes life doesn’t give you what you planned.”

Cassidy followed them like an unwelcome shadow, plopping down at the table uninvited.

“Why’d you buy the building, Miss Wheeler?”

“I’m opening a bakery.”

“Chain or independent?” Cassidy asked, tone a little too slick.

“Independent,” Amy replied, already over it.

Julian shut it down. “Cassidy, why don’t you set up a formal interview another time?”

Cassidy stood, syrupy smile in place. “Maybe I’ll do a puff piece for your grand opening.”

“Maybe I’ll bake you a pie you won’t choke on,” Amy muttered under her breath, grinning after the woman left.

Julian raised an eyebrow. “What’s so funny?”

“She wanted to stake her claim. Too bad she’s late to the game.”

“She already had me. We move in different circles now.” Julian brushed it off. “So what happened to Lance?”

Amy’s smile went brittle. “Which time?”

Julian blinked.

“He cheated,” she said, tone light, like she was reciting the weather. “Then again. Then again. And each time, I forgave him because he looked so sorry. So broken.”

She sipped her cappuccino. “Turns out, I was the broken one. I just didn’t know it yet.”

Just then, a young, stunning brunette server appeared with a name tag that read Lara.

“Julian, what can I get for you and your guest?”

“Black coffee for me, cappuccino for Amy,” Julian said.

Amy blinked. “You remember my coffee order?”

Julian smiled. “I have a good memory. Especially about you.”

Danger. Red alert. Flirtation incoming.

As Lara walked away, Amy turned to him. “So, why a bakery?” Julian asked.

Amy leaned back. “After Lance, I went to Paris. I was aimless, took some cooking classes. Turns out, I have a love affair with butter. And flour. And sugar. Running a bakery just…fits. Quiet town, low overhead, new beginning.”

Julian let that settle, then he leaned in a bit closer.

“And I remember your coffee order because I always thought you could do better than Lance.”

Amy smirked. “As in…you?”

He didn’t deny it. Of course he didn’t.

Lara returned and Amy took a sip of her cappuccino. It was delicious. She raised her eyebrows.

“This is really good.”

“You’re the new owner of the Bradley Building, aren’t you?” Lara asked.

“Word travels fast.”

“Small town,” Lara said with a dramatic eye roll. “No secrets.”

Amy grinned. “I like it.”

Their talk turned to supply chains and potential partnerships. Amy was already filing away names, competition and local flavors.

“So,” Julian said as Lara brought over a slice of pie, “why not date me?”

Amy froze, fork halfway to her mouth.

“Excuse me?”

He leaned in. “We know each other. Same circles. Same chemistry. You kiss like you’ve got all the time in the world.”

Amy flushed. Her body betrayed her—again—with a pleasant little shiver. That kiss had short-circuited her rational brain. No one had ever kissed her like that.

“Sorry to disappoint, Julian, but I gave that all up.”

He looked pointedly at her shoes. “Says the woman wearing Prada.”

Amy laughed. “Okay, maybe not the clothes. But I walked away from that world. I don’t miss it.”

They shared the pie—amazing, but Amy mentally crossed off pies from her menu. No way was she about to go up against Debbie Kelly. That woman baked like she had angel DNA.

Coffee and pie done, Amy stood. “Thanks for the coffee, Julian. I’ve got packing to do and a whole new life to build. Let’s do this again sometime.”

Julian stood, wrapped her in a hug that lingered just a second too long. His breath brushed her ear.

“I’m really looking forward to seeing more of you.”

Shivers. Real, actual, traitorous shivers.

She stepped back and smiled, steady despite the swoon she felt deep in her bones. Then she turned and left.

Julian watched her walk away like he was memorizing every sway of her hips.

Chris Kelly, local farmer, volunteer firefighter and everyone’s favourite golden retriever, arrived just as Amy disappeared out the door.

“Who was that?” Chris asked, glancing at Julian.

Julian’s voice was low. “Chris, did you ever wish for a do-over?”

Chris shrugged. “Everyone does.”

Julian’s smile was private. “She’d be mine.”

“Really? What happened?”

“Back in high school, Amy was my Lara. Lance got the girl, so I settled for being the best friend. But now?” Julian smiled like a man with a plan. “She’s moving to Ashby Lake.”

---

The moment he saw her, Julian nearly tripped over his own designer shoes.

Amy Wheeler.

In Ashby Lake.

Like a ghost from a past he’d never managed to bury.

She was stepping out of the old Bradley building in a simple dress and heels, looking like trouble wrapped in sunshine. His breath hitched—just slightly—but enough to make Cassidy glance at him sideways. Of course she did. Cassidy was attuned to his micro-reactions like a shark to blood.

“Amy?” he said, already moving toward her.

She looked up and time did that stupid slow-motion thing it never did in boardrooms or battlefields. Her lips curved into that wicked, amused smile—the one that always said she knew something you didn’t. That smile had once talked him into stealing the principal’s car and sneaking it onto the football field with “PROM QUEEN” painted on the hood.

He’d hung out with Lance in high school for one reason and one reason only: Amy.

Not that Lance had ever realized. That egotistical idiot thought Julian just enjoyed their mutual love of chaos. But the truth? Amy had been the architect of all that chaos. Lance liked to take credit, but Amy was the one who planned the heist, timed the getaways, sweet-talked the teachers. Julian had just provided the smirks and the distraction.

And when Lance cheated on her that first time, Julian had waited. He didn’t swoop in—he wasn’t that guy. But when she showed up at that party looking like heartbreak wrapped in leather and wine-colored lipstick?

God. He still remembered the way she kissed him.

How she’d pulled him into that empty dorm stairwell, fingers in his hair, breath hot and angry and sweet against his mouth. He remembered how she tasted. How her laugh had caught in her throat when he pressed her against the wall, how close they’d come to losing control completely.

And then she left him hanging. Lance came crawling back with his empty promises and Amy—fiercely loyal Amy—chose history over possibility.

He never blamed her. But he’d never quite forgiven himself for letting her walk away either.

Now, here she was. In front of him. In Ashby Lake, of all places.

She kissed his cheek—kissed it—and Julian felt every nerve ending snap awake like they’d been electrocuted.

“I just bought this building, Julian. How are you?” she asked, her hand squeezing his arm in a way that had no business being that casual and that intimate at the same time.

God, she was still fire.

He introduced her to Cassidy, who instantly locked in like she’d spotted competition. Amy, naturally, met her icy charm with warm mischief.

They started walking toward The Perch. Cassidy followed, of course. Julian barely noticed. Amy had all his focus.

“I don’t see a ring on your finger. Thought you and Lance were supposed to be married by now,” he said, almost smug.

Her smile was sharper than a knife. “Yeah, well, sometimes things don’t go as planned.”

No ring. No Lance. No reason to hold back.

When Cassidy started in with the twenty questions, Julian shut her down. “Cassidy, schedule a formal interview. Amy and I are catching up.”

Translation: Go away. You are interrupting something sacred.

Amy laughed when Cassidy left and Julian felt something warm tug in his chest. God, she still laughed like that? Like mischief was her mother tongue?

“She was trying too hard to get you,” Amy said, eyes sparkling.

“She already had me,” Julian said simply. “But we move in different circles.”

They sat, they talked. She told him about Paris, about baking, about rebuilding. And every word she spoke was like a flame licking at the walls he’d so carefully constructed around that night in University.

He remembered the curve of her neck, the way her breath hitched when his hands found her waist. He remembered how close they’d come. The way she’d stopped them just before they crossed the line.

He’d gone home and taken the longest, coldest shower of his life.

And now here she was, saying words like fresh start and new life, sipping cappuccino like she hadn’t just spun his world back off its axis.

When he mentioned dating, she blinked. Surprised. Flushed.

God, that blush. She could wear Prada and diamonds and still be the girl who made his heart skip a beat with just a glance.

He wanted her.

Still.

More than ever.

Even after all this time, all this distance—he wanted her like gravity wanted the moon.

She turned him down with a laugh, said she’d walked away from the old world.

He saw right through it. The fire was still there.

She stood to leave and he stood with her, brushing a hug into something that curled his fingers around her waist a second too long. He leaned in, letting his voice drop low—low enough that only she could hear.

“I’m really looking forward to seeing more of you.”

And oh, how she shivered.

Victory? No. That wasn’t the game anymore.

This was something older. Deeper.

As she walked away, he didn’t even try to hide the fact that he was watching.

Chris showed up, a breeze of boyish sincerity.

“Who was that?”

Julian’s eyes didn’t leave the door. “Chris, did you ever wish you could get a do-over?”

Chris blinked. “Of course.”

“She would be mine.”

Chris sat down, curious. “Really? What happened?”

Julian finally turned to face him, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “Back in high school, Amy was my Lara. But Lance got the girl. So I befriended Lance. I wanted to be close to her, even if I couldn’t have her.”

Chris tilted his head. “Are you going to see her again?”

Julian didn’t hesitate.

“Oh yes,” he said and for the first time in a long time, it wasn’t a business deal or a headline he was plotting.

It was her.

She was moving to Ashby Lake.

And this time?

He wasn’t letting her go.