Ain't She Sweet (Seven Brides for Seven Mothers #2) - Whitney Dineen Page 0,2

to roll the crusts quickly to not overwork the dough. The key to the perfect apple pie is a flaky crust that melts in your mouth.

Ruby pats my arm like she’s reassuring a scared puppy. “I promise you’ll never regret coming here.”

“I haven’t so far. In fact, for the first time in my adult life, I feel like I’m home.” The few months I’ve been here have been the longest I’ve stayed in one place since I started modeling at twelve; I always knew when the plane landed that I would soon be getting on another to travel somewhere else. Back then I used to think of Paris, New York, and LA in terms of being seasonal homes, but here in Spartan, I feel like it could be something more permanent. The thought excites and scares me at the same time.

There’s something about the Willamette Valley that seems to make time stop. I feel like I’m living in the moment. The last time I felt remotely like this, I was skydiving for a Movado watch photoshoot. I could have floated through the clouds forever. That was, until I started to worry my chute wouldn’t open and then I may have peed my pants a little.

“California’s loss is our gain.” Ruby pats my arm again before walking over to Geoffrey, our executive chef, and all-around good guy.

I always got along well with the staff at Le Deux, but I was convinced they were only nice to me because I was somebody. I’m sure it didn’t hurt that I was engaged to Romaine Choate, the biggest rock star of our generation. Seriously, if Mick Jagger and Eddie Vedder had a baby, it could have been Romaine. He’s a powerhouse of energy, charisma, and talent.

A lot of supermodels parlay their celebrity into pursuits that keep them in the spotlight long after the magazine covers and designer ad campaigns dry up. No one, including my fiancé, seemed to understand that I needed a change and wanted to do something I actually loved doing. Modeling had its time and place in my life, but that time is over.

Romaine often pointed out that I didn’t need to worry about money, which is true. I built a very nice nest egg for myself over the years, which was primarily the result of skyrocketing to fame before I was of legal age. All of my money was invested for my future and has increased in value many times over.

Romaine only rallied behind my decision to become a pastry chef when he decided I could use my previous popularity to further success in a new venture, namely open a chain of bakeries and maybe get my own show on the Food Network, but that isn’t what I wanted to do.

I wanted to see what it was like to be a normal person, work a normal job, live a normal life. When I started working at Le Deux Langues, Romaine would eat several meals a week there, hosting an assortment of our famous friends. Well, more his friends than mine. I haven’t heard a peep out of most of them since he and I broke up six months ago.

With my rock star fiancé on site, the paparazzi were guaranteed to be there. This assured everyone who was anyone, or aspired to be someone, free publicity if they ate at Le Deux. There’s nothing like a spotlight to keep the Hollywood crowd foaming at the mouth and lining up to be seen.

Each night after work I needed a shower to wash off more than the fine coating of sugar and flour that were a by-product of my job. The residue of desperate people chasing fame was not unlike the lingering effects of a skunk attack.

The owners, Phillipe and Joselle, told me to hire another assistant so I could spend more time in the dining room with Romaine. I didn’t want to be a walking billboard for them, I wanted to be in the kitchen creating delicacies I hadn’t previously been able to do more than sample. Ones that I no longer feel any guilt consuming.

Romaine and I were at odds for ages over my desire to hold down a full-time job. He wanted me on his arm posing for photo ops, and I wanted to never see another camera.

One of our fights was captured on film and published by “Auntie Harlot,” the industry’s most viewed gossip blog. While the content of the article was highly speculative, the pictures pretty much said