Too Sweet to Be Good

by K. M. Jackson

Chapter 21

  Blush Meet Bashful

  “My sweethearts, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you two so.”

  “Grandma, stop. Really you shouldn’t talk. Remember, the doctors were saying you need to get your rest.”

  Mrs. Betty rolled her eyes, softening the look by patting Kellen on the cheek. “I was afraid of this. Sweetheart, it’s nothing for you to worry about.”

  Although she said it was nothing, Drea could see the clear strain behind her eyes. She was trying to put on a brave face for Kellen, who was only getting his color back after seeing his grandmother’s weak smile once they’d made it to the hospital. By the time they’d gotten there, she was already in an ER bed, having been hooked up to an EKG. She’d gone through a battery of tests and was diagnosed so far with fatigue and slightly elevated blood pressure, but the doctors wanted to keep her overnight and would no doubt prescribe a reduced work schedule.

  She knew but she hated to admit it, and Drea did too, that taking on so much so soon after the death of her husband had to have taken a toll on her. And judging by Kellen’s reaction to seeing his grandmother even just sitting in a hospital bed, it all took a toll on him too.

  Drea’s heart practically broke seeing the large, capable man emotionally shattered over the fear of losing a person he loved.

  Mrs. Betty coughed and Kellen choked back a sob.

  “Aww, come on with the tears now, sweetheart. I can’t have you falling apart,” she said. “You’ve got my theater to finish. I’ve already got my eye on a couple of dresses that will be stunning for the big opening night.”

  Kellen looked up at his grandmother, his eyes wide, and shook his head. “Lady, you’ve got a one-track mind.”

  She shrugged and gave Drea a wink. “You ever see a train make it to its destination riding on two tracks?”

  * * *

  Two tracks—as if? His grandmother’s words were still running through his mind the next week as he left her at home early and made his way to Goode ’N Sweet. He’d placed the package he had for Drea in his car and as he watched the video of her in the field one more time before heading out, he hoped she’d accept it and his heartfelt apology.

  His mind went once again to the video he’d found in his grandfather’s archives of his grandmother on that same field. She looked so young, happy, and carefree as she did a little dance for him, then swung her arms wide, spinning, then coming forward and out of frame as if to give him a kiss. The video ended and then picked up in front of the Redheart with his grandmother again. She was opening a box in front of the theater. It was the lovely heart pin she always wore. She pinned it to the lapel of the little cardigan she was wearing and once again she came forward as if to kiss the holder of the camera. This time the videographer turned the camera around and Kellen saw them both. His grandmother and grandfather, younger and happier and more full of hope and promise than he’d ever thought possible in a time when hope was something that seemed impossible.

  He started the ignition and headed to Goode ’N Sweet, hoping that this time Boots would be the one to answer the door.

  “What’s this?”

  “It’s for you.”

  “Why?” she asked, staring at the outstretched bag in Kellen’s hand as he stood outside the shop’s door at 6:47 a.m.

  “So are you gonna let my arm break off? Or will you take a chance on this Suit and finally take my hand, Boots?” he said.

  She smiled then and his heart lit up with just enough of a glimmer of hope to propel his feet forward as he walked inside Goode ’N Sweet.

  * * *

  Drea was stunned as she looked inside the bag Kellen had given her. A camera, tripod, bell light? She looked at Kellen then with confusion.

  “It’s just a little starter kit for you to get going on your Web show,” he explained.

  She frowned. “What Web show?”

  He looked back and forth. “Um, whatever Web show your fantastic, creative mind comes up with. I don’t know, the one that you write and direct, or the one where you put your own special spin on the classics, remixing the lines and all. It can be whatever you want just so long as it’s you and your unique voice is out there.”

  Drea couldn’t believe what he was saying. Wait, what was he saying?

  “Who cares about doors? Make yourself a window, Boots. It’s not like you don’t have more than enough talent to set the world on fire from wherever you are.”

  She couldn’t help but smile, but then it all hit her. Though this was a nice gesture, nothing had changed; things were still the same with the Redheart progressing quickly and answers unclear. “Thanks, Suit, but I don’t know. This is all very expensive. It’s not like you can buy me and then just move on.”

  “You’re right, it is. And for the record, a woman like you I don’t know a man in the world who could ever afford. But you sure as heck are worth going into emotional debt for.”

  He clicked play on the camera and Drea watched as clips of herself and the times she’d spent with him took over the screen. Had she really made a fool of herself in front of him that many times? She guessed it didn’t matter though, because at the end of the video there he was on the screen. Those eyes, that smile, declaring his love for her. “You are an incredible woman, Boots, and I believe in you,” he said earnestly and oh so cutely, wearing the same suit jacket he’d worn when she first saw him. “I just wanted to thank you for pushing and believing in me too. And to tell you that I only want to be a small part of a world that is made better with you in it.”

  Drea fought back tears at the same time she tried to wrangle the flock of butterflies once again stirring in her belly, but they were so strong they were about to fly right out of her mouth. Wow, this man was dangerous with a capital D. “Watch it, you’re veering off into slick territory and you still haven’t had your coffee or any biscuits yet, Suit.” She moved to go and get his order when he stilled her with his hand.

  “You think you can add a sausage or two to that order? I’m gonna need my strength being that the Pomeroys and I have a meeting with the town council this afternoon about permits on building new townhomes on our lands.”

  Drea looked at him, shock and excitement flooding her body.

  “Yep,” he said, leaning back. “It’s the oddest thing. Some headstrong Yankee was preaching to me about legacies, and it got me thinking, why can’t I start a legacy of building right here in Sugar Lake? What do I need with a conglomerate like RPG anyway? If it’s something done local for locals and by locals, we’ll have that much more support and honor the town history and the legacy. Also, if I work in conjunction with the Pomeroys instead of against them, it will be a lot better down the road. And my grandmother is thrilled now that the RPG deal is officially off the table as it was and the Redheart will stay in Kilborn hands. My hope is that you’ll be by my side for the official re-grand opening.”

  Drea shook her head and started to walk away.

  He stood up and ran in front of her. “Wait. What’s that for? Why the head shake? I thought you’d be happy?”

  She smiled at him. “I am happy. I’m just completely at a loss. It’s going to be hard to keep calling you Suit when you go around acting like anything but a Suit.”

  She reached her arms around his neck and kissed him. His lips were strong, then soft, then strong again as they made her weak in the knees. Just then the bell over the door chimed and there was a cough behind her.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered close to her ear. “And if I haven’t made it clear enough, I love you like crazy, Boots.”

  “Don’t mind the two of them. What will you have?” Drea heard her Aunt Joyce’s voice call out. “They seem to think this here is some sort of kissing booth and not a bakery. Just give me a minute and I’ll grab the hose and cool those two off.”

  Drea laughed as she turned to her aunt. “Don’t you dare, Auntie,” she said as she pushed Kellen toward his favorite seat at the back table. “Now, do we have any of those sausages
left? My Suit here seems to have worked up quite the appetite this morning.”

  Epilogue

  Sweet Home, Sugar Lake

  Mrs. Betty was happy. Wait, happy wasn’t the right word, she was excited, no thrilled, no maybe she was content or at least as close to it as she ever could be on this night with the memory of her Henry as her guide.

  “It’s time, my love,” she said, taking one last stroll around the Redheart before the big premier. “It’s opening night. The theater is finally all we dreamed it would be. We’ve got a new screen, the curtains are in perfect condition, the seats are not only all updated and recushioned, but we’ve got a new sound system and have gone digital. I think you’d be so proud.” She let out a long breath as she looked up at the shiny, restored ceiling, then made her way to the concession area.

  The snacks were all in place, both hot and cold. She’d made extra of her own special pigs in blankets and had a lovely baked goods display from Goode ’N Sweet for the night. The local teens she’d hired looked fantastic in their new uniforms of black pants, white shirts, and red vests with gold trimming. Sure, it was old-fashioned, but it fit the ambience of the old Hollywood style of the theater. Everything was ready for the night’s double feature premier of Mahogany and then Alexandrea’s first installments of her new Web series, Being Boots.

  “Yep, it’s time,” Mrs. Betty said again to the memory of the love in her heart. “We did it.”

  “No, you did it.”

  She turned, almost expecting to see her Henry there at the sound of that voice. Instead it was her Kellen: tall, handsome, and smiling as he came toward her looking so dapper in his tuxedo with Alexandrea holding his hand. Tonight, she was wearing a gorgeous strapless silk minidress with a taffeta overskirt that flared out to a long train. And true to form, she pared it with a pair of cool sparkly stiletto ankle boots.

  “Are you ready, my loves?” Mrs. Betty asked as they each took one of Kellen’s arms and a ticket agent opened the brass doors to flashes of light.

  Mrs. Betty beamed. “Let’s break a leg. We’ve got a red carpet to walk.”

  Recipes

  Now, our dear Drea is no great whiz in the kitchen, pretty much like your dear narrator here. But she does have spirit, and like your narrator, she likes to give things a good ole college try. So here goes. The following are a couple of recipes of my own concoction, but let’s just say they are made up by Liv with Drea and Kellen as inspiration. I hope you’ll give them a try, and please let me know what you think. Feel free to change to suit your own personal taste and health needs. Enjoy!

  Oh Honey Yes You May Pie

  Prep time: 30 minutes

  Baking time: 35–45 minutes

  Nonstick cooking spray

  ½ cup diced plums

  ½ cup chopped granny smith apples

  1 stick butter

  1 cup diced canned peaches

  ½ cup granulated sugar

  ¾ cup brown sugar

  ¼ cup honey

  ¼ tsp cornstarch

  ¼ tsp baking powder

  Dash of nutmeg

  Dash of cinnamon

  2 rolls ready-made phyllo dough

  ¾ cup chopped pecans

  Preheat oven to 350 degrees

  Dice apples and plums and melt ½ stick of butter. Sauté until softened.

  In a large mixing bowl mix diced peaches in liquid, softened plums and apples together. To that add in: ½ cup granulated sugar, ¾ cup brown sugar, and 1 tablespoon honey.

  In a separate bowl mix ¼ teaspoon cornstarch, ½ teaspoon baking powder, and add to mixture slowly and stir.

  Add dash of nutmeg and cinnamon to taste.

  Separate out phyllo and stretch to fit pie tin. Add half the mixture for one layer and top with pecans. Add another phyllo layer and the rest of the mixture on top, plus rest of pecans. Add on another layer of phyllo, pecans, and butter. Drizzle with honey and bake 35–40 minutes or until golden brown. Let cool about 10 minutes. Enjoy!

  Honeyed Peach, Pear, Black- and Blueberry Pie

  Prep Time: 30 minutes

  Bake time: 45 minutes

  Nonstick cooking spray

  1 29 oz large can of peaches

  1 14½ oz can of pears

  1 stick of butter

  1 cup brown sugar

  2 tbsp of honey

  1 tsp cinnamon

  1 tsp cornstarch

  1 tbsp white sugar

  2 oz fresh blackberries

  2 oz fresh blueberries

  2 premade roll-out pie crusts

  Preheat oven to 375 or 400 degrees depending on your oven.

  In a large mixing bowl add peaches and pears cut into medium bite-size pieces with about ½ of the peach liquid.

  Then add in ½ stick butter diced into small cubes and brown sugar. Add in honey and cinnamon. In a small bowl mix cornstarch and white sugar and add to mixture. Lightly fold in blackberries and blueberries, careful not to break them. Set aside.

  Spray or grease your pie pan as usual and roll out your premade pie crust. Lift and cover the bottom of your pie pan. Fold in your filling.

  Roll out other pie crust and use to cover the top, decorating as you wish. Have fun here. Weave pie crusts, make shapes, or just do what you will, just be sure to cut a few holes to vent. Brush the top with a bit of melted butter and bake at 375–400 degrees (depending on your oven) for 45 minutes to 1 hour or until golden brown. Take out and let cool.

  Enjoy!

  Serve pie warm or cold, and topping with ice cream is always a good idea!

  DON’T MISS THE FIRST BOOK IN THE SERIES

  As Good as the First Time

  With her big-city career and relationship in sudden free fall, Olivia Gale isn’t sure where she belongs. So when her help is needed at Goode ’N Sweet, the family bakery in Sugar Lake, she jumps at the chance to indulge her pie-making hobby while getting her life back on track.

  Olivia’s not looking for any distractions.

  Even if the boy who once left her without a word is now a grown man with intriguing secrets—and the same tempting hold on her heart . . .

  Available wherever books are sold!

  Chapter 1

  Hmm, absolutely perfect. Or as close to perfect as one could come up with being that it was an early morning rush job, Olivia Gale thought as she pulled the deep-dish berry swirl pie out of the oven. The homemade crust was golden brown, flaking gently along the edges. Liv couldn’t help but smile when she saw how beautifully her hand lettering had come out. It had taken quite a few trials, not to mention the expense of new precision knife blades from the art store, but the results were worth it.

  CONGRATS DAD.

  The small, baked-in sentiment looked almost magazine photo worthy. She knew her father would love it when she presented it to him later that evening at his retirement dinner.

  Careful not to drop any crumbs or—heaven’s, no—spill any filling on her cherished cookbook pages, Liv carefully skirted the berry swirl pie around, placing it on the counter with the apple pie and peach cobbler already done. It didn’t matter that each of her printed recipes were already saved in a file on her computer and backed up on her cloud drive and that she still had them lovingly protected, each in its own sheet protector; she still took good care of her cookbook. Liv had been collecting her time-tested recipes in that book over the past ten years. She would not let it get ruined.

  Oven off and satisfied with her work, she could relax for a moment. Although it was only a small gathering at her parents’ apartment that evening—neighbors, old friends, and a few of Dad’s best work colleagues—Liv knew that one pie wouldn’t have been enough to satisfy the crowd. With that in mind, though it was a workday, she’d decided to make multiple pies to supplement the store-bought cake that her mother was providing. Besides, knowing her mom and her famous open-door policy, you never knew who would show up.

  “Absolutely delicious.” Damon’s voice was a slow, deep drawl as he came into the kitchen and wrap
ped his strong arms around Liv’s waist.

  “Are you talking about the way my pies look, or should I take that as a personal compliment?” Liv said, turning to look him in the eyes.

  Damon gave her one of his alluring half smiles as his gaze went from her eyes to her lips. But instead of kissing her lips, he bent and kissed her lightly on her neck, she assumed not wanting to get any of her freshly applied lipstick smudged onto him. He hated getting mussed up before work.

  “Why can’t I be talking about both?” he replied.

  Liv shook her head and gave Damon a light nudge against his chest. “You really are a smooth talker. If I didn’t know you so well, I’d be a little suspicious.”

  “Now, there you go with that acute skepticism of yours. Why can’t you just smile and take a compliment, woman?” Damon’s half grin went up to include both sides of his mouth. “You know you are delicious. As a matter of fact, everything you are, everything you touch, is delicious. Now, why don’t you be a peach and share a little bit of that cobbler with me?”

  Liv fought back a blush. She’d always found it slightly difficult to take compliments from Damon, not that he was overflowing with them, from him they were rare. Still, she wasn’t good at taking them from him, or anyone for that matter, a man especially. Sure, she knew that there was nothing wrong with her, and when she pulled herself together right, she was downright passable in a blending-in type of way. But someone to gush over? Not with her slightly too far apart eyes, and lips that took up too much of her face. Add to that hips and thighs that no amount of squats could seem to slim down, and well, yeah, Liv had a hard time believing Damon and all his extravagant talk. But still, she tried to play it cool. A man like Damon—tall, dark, and, yes, quite handsome—wouldn’t find lack of confidence a virtue in a woman. Not many men did. So she’d learned early on to fake what she’d lacked as best as she could.