by Frankie Love
APPLE-Y EVER AFTER
The Way To A Man’s Heart
Frankie Love
Contents
Apple-y Ever After
1. Hank
2. Honey
3. Hank
4. Honey
5. Hank
6. Honey
7. Hank
8. Honey
9. Hank
Epilogue
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About the Author
Copyright © 2021 by Frankie Love
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Apple-y Ever After
The Way To A Man’s Heart
By Frankie Love
My farm has always been my pride and joy, but I want more than a plot of land.
I want a wife.
When I meet Honey, a funny, beautiful, curvy woman, at her food truck, I know she’s the one.
And after just one night, Honey is the apple of my eye.
Trouble is, this woman is hell-bent on leaving town.
Too bad I can’t let her go. Not now, not ever.
Dear Reader,
Hank is a hard-ass alpha with a sweet side.
One bite of Honey’s pie and he wants more than the flaky crust and sugary filling.
He wants her.
Let’s give the man what he wants. We might need to come back for seconds…
Chapter One
Hank
"How many guests are you expecting today, Hank?” Joey asks me cheerfully as he strides into the staff room and pours himself a generous cup of coffee.
"At least a thousand," I reply, checking my watch. "Which reminds me. Have to get out there and start directing traffic. You’re running late, something happen with the car?”
"Nah," Joey replies, hitting me with a big-ass grin. "Something happened with a girl."
"Don’t tell me that you’re finally settling down?” I ask, and he laughs as he takes a sip of his coffee.
"Not a chance in hell," he scoffs. "It was just a one-night thing. We met on an app. Hey, you want me to get you set up with an account...?”
"No, I’m good," I say, shaking my head. All these one-night things have never appealed to me. I’ve had plenty of opportunity, but I’m looking for forever, or not at all. I’m not going to settle for anything less.
"All right, finish that up, we need to get out there," I tell him, jerking my head towards the cidery outside, where the bluegrass band will be arriving soon enough, along with the rest of the guests for the day.
These are my favorite times at the Finn Creek Cidery; these weekend festivals, early autumn, when the weather is starting to turn but it’s still warm enough to get people out of their houses and down to my place to drink hard cider, pick apples, and dance to bluegrass once they’re tipsy enough. This is our first big festival of the season, and I know that it’s going to be packed-out. They always are.
Early September always brings a wash of warmth to this place, and the sunlight dappling through the apple orchards is downright idyllic – or it would be, if I didn’t have so much to do today. I spot a truck pulling up to the entrance, right next to the freshly painted sign that announces where to go, and I can see from the look on the face of the guy in the front that he’s in a hurry. I stride over to him, and, sure enough, it’s the leader of that bluegrass group that I hired for the day. I know that I should remember their band name, but I don’t. I’ll figure it out as I go along, anyway.
"Morning," I greet him, and he nods at me.
"Where’s the stage?" he asks bluntly. "We need to start doing a sound check and get ourselves all set up..."
"Of course," I reply, and I nod my head towards the path that leads into the cidery. "Take that path along as far as the main building, and then turn left – you’ll be able to see it from there. If you’ve got any other questions, just come find me, okay?"
"Will do," he replies, and with that, he pulls away. I grin as I watch the van making its way down the path in front of it – this is it. The start of a new season. I am so ready for everything that it’s going to bring. Might not have been everyone’s favorite thing, working such a busy opening rush, but it’s how I keep this place going in the quiet off season. And I am more than happy to welcome in a new flurry of people and activity right now.
Just as I am about to turn back towards the house to tell Joey where he needs to be, another van comes around the corner – the rest of the band? No, this is something else entirely. There’s a woman behind the wheel, and she waves at me excitedly as she draws close and turns off the engine once she is beside me.
"Hi!” She greets me perkily. She has bright blond curly hair, pulled back into a ponytail behind her head, and green eyes that seem to glint with the gold that glances off the apple trees in the fall.
"Hi," I reply. "You all good?”
"I’m here to set up my stall for this weekend," she explains. "Apple pie? I think we spoke on the phone. Or I spoke to someone on the phone. I hope..."
"Yeah, I remember," I reply, throwing my mind back to all the chaos that has been running my life since I started putting this together again. "Go on in. There’s a truck right ahead of you with the band in it. They’re going to be setting up the stage, and if you want to choose somewhere close to that..."
"Sounds good to me," she agrees. "Though not too close. Need to be able to boast about how good my pies are, huh? Can’t be drowned out by the music."
"Right," I reply, and she beams at me. She has a gorgeous smile, the kind that seems to cut through everything around her and make her entire face light up. It’s a little dazzling, and I am having a hard time thinking straight.
"Thanks!” she calls to me as she pulls off down the path to get herself together. I watch her go, and wonder if she’s going to be staying the whole weekend – because I don’t think I want to be done with her just yet.
Before I can think any further down that path, though, I find myself accosted by the sight of another few trucks pulling down the road. Shit – okay, I’ve still got plenty to do here. I straighten my back and prepare myself for everything that the rest of the day is going to bring.
And try not to think about her beautiful green eyes, and what it felt like when they were looking at me.
Chapter Two
Honey
I glance over my shoulder to double-check that I didn’t misjudge the hotness of the man who I just met. And no – there he is, just as cute as I thought. I grin. Maybe this is going to be more fun than I thought.
I pull the van to a halt and hop out so that I can start setting up my stall – I need to get the warmers going so that the apple pies will be perfect, especially with the scoop of artisan vanilla ice cream that I serve them with.
I hum along with the tune that the bluegrass band is twiddling out beside me as they get set up; this place feels good, comfortable. It’s been a while since I’ve pulled up anywhere that has made me feel relaxed like this, but maybe that’s got something to do with the butterflies in my stomach at the sight of the man who met me when I got here.
He’s cute, no doubt about it. Strong and lean, looks like he spends all of his time throwing around giant sacks of apples or something. Dark hair, dark eyes, deep tan. The kind of hot that comes with the country.
God, it’s been a long time since I encountered anyone actually cute. I can’t recall the last time that I laid eyes on a guy
and felt that tingle in my chest like I am feeling right now. Driving all over the country, it’s not like I have much time to think of anything other than keeping my business on the road, but I know that a girl has her needs. And they have made themselves very clear since I laid eyes on him.
I keep myself busy with the stall, pulling out my chalkboard menu and quickly putting up my prices, and then laying out all the sauces and sweetness that go with my little handheld apple pies. I know that people are going to love them – they always do. They’re totally cute, and more importantly, totally delicious, too.
Before I can take another step, my phone rings, and I answer it at once.
"Hello?”
"Hey, sweetie!" Lucky coos down the line to me. Lucky is my best friend in the whole world, and she just so happens to stay in this part of the county – she and I have already made plans, but I knew that she was going to call me up anyway.
"Hi!” I reply. "How’s it going?”
"I’m all good, ready and waiting to come and give you a hand if you need it," she tells me. "You want me to come down and help?”
"I’ll let you know," I reply. Lucky’s a preschool teacher’s assistant, and I know that she values these weekends off – I don’t want to bring her out unless I really need the help. But there is something that she can aid me with right now – finding out just what the deal is with the guy who runs this place.
"Hey, you think you can tell me something?" I wonder aloud.
"Of course, what’s up?”
"Do you know anyone who works here?" I ask. She’s the one who hooked me up with a spot here once she saw that they were advertising for a fall festival, and I figure that she might be able to tell me who this dude is.
"Just the owner," she replies. "Hank Hallifax. He comes into town sometimes, but he generally keeps to himself up there. Why?”
"What does he look like?” I ask her as I peer around my van to check him out again.
"Dark hair, dark eyes, pretty ripped," she replies. "Why?"
"I think I might have met him, that’s all," I reply, and I hear the giggle in her voice at once.
"Oh, don’t tell me you’ve already fallen for the most eligible bachelor in town,” she says. I laugh.
"I hope not," I protest, and the two of us chat a little more – she fills me in on this guy, on what he’s like. Seems like he stays out of the way of most people, just sticks around up here when he can. I like that. It’s been a long time since I’ve been anywhere for more than a couple of days at a time. Maybe there’s something to be said for putting down roots here...
By the time I get off the phone with Lucky, I notice that Hank is striding over to my van – I busy myself quickly, hoping that he’s not going to be able to tell that I was just talking about him.
"Hi," he greets me from the other side of the counter. I look up and make like I didn’t see him coming.
"Oh, hi," I reply. "I’m not in the wrong place, am I?”
"No, you’re right where you need to be," he assures me, and he eyes me from where he’s standing for a moment. I feel a little heat in my cheeks. God, close up, he’s even cuter...
"I’d like to take you out," he tells me, and my eyebrows shoot up to vanish into my bangs.
"What?"
"On a date," he replies. "You up for it?"
"Oh, I – I'm not in town long," I reply. "Just a couple of days, for the festival..."
"Just one date," he replies, cocking his head to the side and hitting me with the kind of devastating grin that makes it impossible to think straight.
Even though I am well aware that I should know better… "Just one date," I echo, and he nods.
"So that’s a yes?"
"I guess it is," I reply, and I can’t keep the smile off my face. Even though I know that I am going to be out of town in a matter of days, there’s something about the confidence with which he looks at me that makes me feel a little more grounded.
Chapter Three
Hank
I approach the house, and find that my stomach is turning with nerves.
Nerves? When was the last time that I ever felt nervous about anything? I sure as hell can’t remember. Not about taking a girl out, at least. But there’s something about Honey, the girl who runs the apple pie van, and her smile as sweet as a Pink Lady, that makes it hard to think straight.
She’s staying with a friend while she’s in town, so she told me, and that’s where I am right now to pick her up. I grabbed a bunch of roses before I came down here, changed into my best linen suit, and booked out a spot for us at a fancy French bistro just past the town limits.
And I’m not going to let it go to waste. I lift my hand and knock on the door, and a moment later, she answers.
Fuck – she looks gorgeous. Long hair flowing over her shoulders, a knit dress that is so soft and delicate that I can almost see the outline of her gorgeous body underneath it. She smiles at me, eyes lighting up as I hand her the roses.
"Well, thank you," she murmurs, and she leans forward to give me a kiss on the cheek. She smells like vanilla ice cream and cinnamon, and it takes everything I have not to turn to meet her mouth with mine.
"You ready to go?" I ask. I can see her friend lurking just behind her – I recognize her, probably from seeing her around town. She eyes the two of us with something like surprise, as though she can’t believe that I am really here and really taking this girl out.
But I am. And I am determined that we are going to have the most perfect night ever.
The bistro is close enough that we can walk there, and Honey links her arm through mine as we go; she asks me about the cidery, and I tell her everything that she wants to hear.
"It’s been in my family for about a hundred years now," I explain. "My father passed it down to me and I’ve been trying to keep it afloat ever since."
"Do you have a hard time with that?” she asks. "I can’t imagine how much time and effort you must have to put into it..."
"No, you’d be surprised how easy it is to talk people into getting drunk in a pretty spot," I reply, and she laughs.
"And what about Finn Creek?” she asks. "Do you like it here?"
"Of course," I reply. "It’s slow, it suits me. I’ve never been one for the city, going out there and rushing around all the time. I like it here. I know most everyone around and it makes for an easy life. Besides, this is where my roots are, this is where they’ve always been. I don’t want to unearth them after all this time."
"I can imagine," she replies, and she brushes a curl back from her face and shakes her head. "I’ve been on the road for so long now – years, actually. Just never found a place that felt like home enough for me to stop."
"You just drive around, selling those pies?”
"And sleeping on the floor of the van sometimes, yeah," she replies, shaking her head. "I know it’s not for everyone, but I’ve gotten to see so much of this country, and I love that. I would never want to trade those experiences.”
"First time you’ve been here, though?" I wonder. She nods.
"First time," she agrees, and she smiles at me.
"I’ll have to make it a good one," I tell her, and I see a little shiver rush through her body. Good. That’s how I want her. Responding to me, to this, to the chemistry that is here between us. I can feel it and I know that she can too. I don’t want to let this go...
We talk a little more before we arrive at the bistro, and when we get there, she gasps.
"This place looks perfect," she tells me as we head inside. I grin. I made the right choice.
But when I approach the waitress and let her know my name and that we have a reservation, her face drops, and she shakes her head.
"I’m so sorry, but there’s been a mistake," she blurts out. "Your table isn’t going to be ready for another two hours. I can get you a drink, on the house..."
I feel my stomach drop. This isn’t what I wanted. I had this whole night planned out perfectly, and now it’s going
to fall apart right in front of me. I shake my head.
"No, that can’t be right," I reply. "Check again. Right now–"
But before I can get mad, I feel Honey’s hand slip down my arm and our fingers link. I turn to her, surprised at how soothing her touch is to me right now, and she smiles.
"We can find something else to do," she murmurs to me softly, and she tilts her head towards the door. "Come on."
And, before I know what I am doing, I find myself following her. And wondering just what the rest of this night will bring.
Chapter Four
Honey
With the grocery bag in his hand, Hank seems to finally be calming down a little. I know that he must have planned this night especially, but I want him to know that I am happy with him and nothing more than him.
"You sure a picnic is going to be good enough?" he asks me, and I nod.
"It’s perfect," I reply. "I can even get some apple pie from the van."
"I’d love to try one," he replies, and finally, a smile spreads over his face. After we found out that our table at the bistro wasn’t going to come through, I suggested that we get some stuff for a picnic – we grabbed some bread, cheese, jams and spreads, and he promised that he would grab us a couple of bottles of the best cider of the new season. Honestly, it sounds far more perfect to me than sitting down at any uptight restaurant ever could.
It doesn’t take long for us to reach his place again; it’s quiet compared to the last time I was here, when it was bustling with the activity of the festival, people filling almost every inch of the few acres of his property. The band is packed up, and the only sound is the soft rustle of the wind through the orchard, and a few crickets in the distance.
