I Only Have Pies for You

by Shyla Colt

  “I know, and I agree. I haven’t had a chance to catch them on tour recently either.”

  “Okay if you like Panic, what did you think of My Chemical Romance and Taking Back Sunday?”

  “You are spinning the soundtrack to my youth,” Rosaleen crowed.

  “Mine too.”

  They spent the rest of the drive talking music and fads from their college years.

  The smell of grilled meat and fried funnel cake batter greeted them as they entered the parking lot. St. James didn’t have rides, but they went all out on the food and drinks.

  “I’ll let you in on a secret,” he said, leaning in as they hopped in line to buy tickets.

  “What’s that?” She arched an eyebrow.

  “This festival is in the top three for the best food.”

  Her mouth formed an O, and he couldn’t help but admire the plumpness of her lips. “Then we should work up an appetite so we can sample as much as possible.”

  They stepped up to the ticket booth, and he smiled at the salt and pepper haired woman with thick black glasses and a large smile. “Evening, Alaric.”

  “Evening, Mary. Have you met Rosaleen? She just purchased the corner lot spot. Her bakery, For Cake’s Sake, will be opening at the first of next month.”

  “I haven’t had the pleasure. Welcome to Granville, Rosaleen.”

  “Thank you, Mary, it’s nice to meet you.”

  “Mrs. Mary has taught Sunday school for as long as I can remember.”

  “Watch out for this one. He’s got a mischievous streak.”

  “I grew out of that, Mrs. Mary. Can we get twenty tickets to start off?”

  “You sure can.”

  Rosaleen reached for her pocket.

  “Uh uh.” He shook his head. “You’re my guest, so it’s only right I pay.”

  “That’ll be fifteen dollars, Alaric.” Handing her the money, he accepted five back and took the red tickets.

  As they walked away from the ticket booth, a brightly colored bag of sugar clouds caught his attention. He guided her toward the booth and paused.

  “If I purchase this, will you share it to keep me from contracting diabetes?” He gestured toward the red and blue with a little green cotton candy in an oversized bag.

  “Depends. Green is my favorite, and they’re usually pretty stingy with it.”

  “Since you’re my guest, it’s only fair you get the first choice. I think I can accommodate your wishes this once.”

  “What lovely manners you have, Mr. Bulley.”

  “What can I say? My mama raised me right.”

  Her pupils dilated in the light, and his heart beat a little faster. She is attracted to me.

  “Yes, I can see that,” she said huskily.

  Grabbing the bag with the largest amount of green cotton candy, he handed four dollars to the vendor, and opened the bag. Moving the bag toward her, he offered the first taste. “I thought we could scout out the booths first.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  Pausing to introduce her to fellow business owners and major volunteers from the church, he looped back around to the middle aisle where they had games.

  “Are you ready to donate some funds to the church?” he asked.

  She placed a hand on her chest and gasped. “Mr. Bulley. Are you insinuating these church games are rigged?”

  “All the festival games are. It’s in the rule book.”

  “Oh, and you’ve seen this mysterious book of which you speak?”

  “Who do you think they suckered into running these things? The young and volunteer-hour needy.” He pointed out the games run by high school students.

  “I have no problem picturing you pulling in unsuspecting victims for your game.”

  “My mom and dad are still super active in the church.”

  “What about you?” she asked.

  “I attend regularly enough, but my call to service isn’t the same as theirs. I act as the church handyman and kick in to help with events when they need it.”

  “That’s really awesome. I’ve never had a true home church.”

  “No? I was indoctrinated into St. James, and luckily it wound up being a good fit. There’s no shortage of churches here, though ... if you’re looking.”

  “I noticed that when I moved here. There’s no shortage of religion.”

  “We may not be the true bible belt, but we love our Jesus all the same.”

  “Is that a bad thing?” she queried.

  The question gave him pause. “What do you mean? Are you agnostic or atheist?”

  “No. I believe in God. I don’t believe in the way people use what should be beautiful to exclude and shame others who may think or believe differently.”

  “Around here, people are just people. Their actions dictate how they’ll be judged.”

  She shifted her weight. “You sure about that?”

  “Nowhere is without racism or small-minded individuals, but the majority of people here at least appear to think that way. Why?” He tensed. “Did something happen to make you think otherwise?” The thought of her being made to feel unsafe or discriminated against had him growing hot under the collar. “’Cause that’s not going to be tolerated around here.”

  “So, this freeze is just about newness, not skin tone?”

  He could see how she’d be concerned. He wasn’t ignorant of what was going on in the world.

  “Were you worried about that?” he asked gently.

  “The thought crossed my mind.” She shrugged.

  “Once they get to know you, things will change. I promise.” He reached out to run a hand down her arm, marveling at the softness of her skin. “You haven’t even officially opened yet. Give it a little time. Come on. Let’s pop some balloons. I’d be slacking in my host duties if I didn’t win you a stuffed animal to take home.”

  She smirked. “How do you know I won’t win one for you?”

  “Well, now, I love a challenge.”

  “That’s good because I’m competitive.” She wiggled her eyebrows, and he laughed. They walked to the table, and he handed over the tickets, giving them three darts apiece.

  Her brows dipped as she narrowed her eyes and focused. When her nose scrunched like a rabbit’s the cuteness became too much and he focused on his own darts. Pop. Pop. They went through the balloons like they owed them money.

  “It looks like you both get to pick a prize.” An assortment of small stuffed animals dangled above his head.

  “Which do you like best?” he asked.

  “The llama. They’re kind of my favorite.”

  “All right. The white llama for the lady, please.”

  “What’s your favorite?”

  He cleared his throat. “Captain America.”

  “Of course, he is, hero.” She smirked. “And the Captain America for the mister here.”

  They exchanged stuffed animals, and he chuckled. “Can’t say this has ever happened before.”

  Tilting her head, she pursed her lips. “What? Men like gifts, too, right?”

  “Yeah, we do.” He nodded his head in agreement.

  “This way, we both win.”

  “And you like to do things equally?”

  “I’ll take a partnership over being pampered any day. Not to say a lady doesn’t like to be spoiled. I just want to ...”

  “Share the load?” he whispered.

  “Exactly.” She beamed, and he knew he couldn’t let go of this rare gem he was lucky enough to stumble upon.

  Chapter Two

  Rosaleen

  “You should do this next year.” He tapped the flyer before he handed it over to her. “People send in their applications months in advance to grab a spot. It’s the perfect way to showcase your food. We started it about five years ago, and it’s been bigger and better every year.”

  Reading the piece of paper with date and descriptions, she nodded. “We had something like this in Cincinnati.”

  “I’m pretty sure
that’s where we borrowed the concept from.”

  She placed the flyer on her counter, cocking her head to look up at him. “I have to ask.” She leaned forward. “Are you trying to fatten me up?”

  “What?” he snickered.

  “Most things you take me to are food-related.”

  “For the record, you’re perfect as you are. But I don’t mind a little extra padding.”

  “Stop.” She pushed off the counter and shoved him playfully.

  “It’s fall, the season of food before we’re stuck in our houses when the snow comes.” He shrugged.

  “Makes sense. You probably get more than we did back in Cincinnati.”

  “Oh yeah. Be sure you’re stocked when they predict heavy snow is on its way.”

  “I’ll remember that.” She eyed him thoughtfully. “The extra padding surprises me.”

  “Why? I’m more concerned about what’s on the inside.” He frowned. “Looks can’t carry on a conversation, understand what matters most, or keep my interest long term.”

  His words held a weight that waved a flag. “You sound like you speak from experience,” she said curiously.

  “I do. I’m not one to talk badly about my exes. For the most part, we’ve all parted amicably. Like friends, not everyone you enter into a romantic relationship with is the one. We outgrow people, drift apart, or realize we’ve gone as far as we can together.”

  She nodded, soaking up the information he was freely giving.

  “My last serious girlfriend, Kasey, started off wonderfully. She was fun, full of life, and really open to trying new things. We went camping, paintballing, road-tripping.”

  “She sounds great.” Her stomach clenched. Is he still stuck on his ex?

  “She was.”

  “What happened?”

  He frowned. “About a year and a half to two years into things, she started to change. It was gradual at first. She began to defer to me before we made choices. The first few times, it was a nice gesture.” He cringed.

  “But then it got annoying?” she guessed.

  “Very. It was like the personality leeched out of her, bit by bit until she was this version of herself she thought was the most desirable. I tried to reassure her I was happy with the woman I first met, and I didn’t want things to change from the way they had been.”

  “And she didn’t respond?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “Not that I could tell. It got to be stifling. I felt like I was dating an actress, and I wondered what else she’d change. It broke my trust.”

  “How could it not?”

  “She started dropping hints about making things more permanent, and I knew it was time to go our separate ways before we hurt more people. Our families adored each other. They took the breakup hard. I should’ve known she wasn’t the one. All the time we dated, we never moved in together.” He shook his head. “I couldn’t see her in my space that way. I always needed to regain my space and peace after we were together toward the end.”

  “All relationships are work, but it shouldn’t be a burden.” She shook her head.

  “Exactly. I wish she’d seen it that way, too. She insisted we just needed time apart and we were worth working on after so many years as a couple.”

  “It’s hard when breakups aren’t amicable.”

  “The first six months were painful. The town is too small for us to avoid one another, and my mother wasn’t ready to let the thought of us walking down the aisle go. She encouraged Kasey when she should’ve told her I’d already made up my mind. It was a point of contention between us.”

  “Is she still doing that?” Rosaleen asked, floored by his mother’s meddling. Her mother would never become so involved in her personal life that way.

  “No,” he hesitated.

  “But Kasey isn’t sold on the relationship divorce?”

  “Mmmhmm. She comes around every now and then trying to stir things up. And I let her down a little less gentle every time.” He shook his head.

  “It sounds stressful.”

  “It can be.” He glanced down at her. “You must be magical. I never talk about this with anyone, and now I can’t stop spilling my guts.” He smiled bashfully. “I can’t be the only one with a difficult ex.”

  She paused. She didn’t speak about Jamie often. The intense sense of failure still stung. Peering into his warm eyes, she didn’t feel judged. They’d begun to build a solid friendship. The distance from her old life gave her space she hadn’t known she desperately needed from expectations and preconceived notions that came with the people who’d known you for a large portion of your life. Swallowing, she took a chance and opened up to her new friend. “I was engaged until about a year ago.”

  “Whoa.” His eyebrows shot up. “What happened?”

  She smiled wryly. “You know, I’ve spent a lot of time asking myself that.” She sighed. “I met Ryan at the restaurant in the luxury hotel we both worked at. He was a new hotshot, executive chef we hired to update the menu and bring in fresh blood. I worked under the pastry chef, so we passed each other like ships in the night, working together indirectly.

  The place we worked at was extremely progressive. They always tried to stay on the cutting edge and create new experiences that kept people coming from all over the state and beyond. Professionally, we hit it off immediately.” She could still remember the first time she saw him walk in. At six foot two, he was tall and lithe in his crisp white chef’s coat. His golden blond hair was combed back neatly, and his hazel eyes were bright and intense. His rich baritone commanded attention and respect. Attraction sparked in her immediately.

  “He was intense, but in a good way.” Looking back at it now she could smile as she remembered their late-night conversations sharing their visions for the creations they were dreaming up. “It was refreshing to find someone who loved their job like I did. I think we connected over our passion for food originally. Neither of us minded the long hours, and we put a lot of ourselves into our dishes. I was just getting a bit of free reign. We’d stay at work after hours talking about our work, and then it moved to coffee spots, and getting together for dinner.”

  “It sounds straight out of Hallmark.”

  “For a long time, I thought so, too. We took it slow. He proposed after dating for two years, and we weren’t in a rush to walk down the aisle. I mean, we were both so busy.” She shook her head.

  “Why aren’t you Mrs. Chef right now?”

  She shrugged. “What drew us together ended up tearing us apart. When we went to start planning the wedding and talking about fully merging our lives, we found our expectations for the future didn’t fit. He wanted a wife who’d man the house while he pursued his career. I’m just hitting my stride. Stopping cold turkey and standing on the sidelines wasn’t an option. Not after I’d worked so hard to get to the point where I could run things.” She shook her head, disgusted at his high handed, self-centered anticipations. “I felt like a fool. We’d been living together for a year. How could I have missed it?”

  “He never showed any signs of it before?” Alaric asked softly.

  “No,” she snickered. “He always encouraged me on my career path.” The old hurts made her chest ache. “We celebrated our successes together. I thought he understood how important my dreams were to me.”

  “Sounds like we both had the rug pulled out from underneath us. I’m sorry that happened to you. Better you found out before you were married.”

  “I tell myself that.” She sniffed. “Enough deep conversations. You promised me entertainment.”

  “So I did.” He cleared his throat and offered his arm. Taking it, she allowed him to guide her out to his truck.

  “How was work today?” she asked once they were inside.

  “Busy. This time of year, everyone wants something custom for a gift.”

  “That makes sense. Are you working on anything exciting?”

  “I am making a really nice table. It’s not too often I get to
do any intricate carving, but they wanted to do a modern take on an antique table their parents own. It’s been a fun challenge making sure it looks like it belongs with the original while keeping it updated enough to be called modern.”

  “It amazes me what you can do with wood. How did you even start?”

  “Well, it helps that my father is a carpenter like his father before him. Wood always spoke to me, though. I was whittling by the time I was ten.”

  It was all too easy to imagine baby Alaric on a wrap-around porch rocking back and forth in an old wooden rocker.

  “You continue to get more interesting with time.”

  “Naw, you’re just not accustomed to country living yet. This is par for the course.”

  “I don’t believe anything about you is typical.”

  “You keep complimenting me, and I might blush,” he drawled, thickening his accent.

  “Tempt me with a challenge.” She leaned against the center console.

  “Takes a lot to make me blush, city girl.”

  “Hmmm. We’ll see, hero.”

  They lapsed into a comfortable silence as the music drifted over the radio station.

  “I’m sure you’ve noticed most things take place in the community center,” he said as they pulled into the sparse parking lot. “It’ll get more crowded as people get in from work. I wanted to give us a chance to actually talk to people. Have you noticed a difference?”

  “I’ve been getting good mornings and waves when I run into the folks you’ve introduced me to. It’s a lot more than I had before.” She shrugged. “Rome wasn’t built in a day. I don’t have a problem giving it more time. If my ads are doing their thing, I’ll have people in for the grand opening regardless of if they know me personally or not. At the least, friends and family of my new hires, I’m working on acquiring.”

  “How are the interviews going?”

  “Slow.” She distorted her voice like a movie in slow motion.

  “They always are.” Opening his door, he climbed down and hurried around to her side. She’d gotten used to his manners. The second their hands met, something tightened low in her belly. I will not screw up the one close friendship I’m developing. Ignoring the embers of desire, she kept her feet planted firmly in the friend zone.