Sweet as Pie

by Alicia Hunter Pace

  They all laughed, but Evans found herself less and less charmed, maybe because that smile wasn’t just for her anymore. He was sharing it aplenty with her friends.

  “Hyacinth sells more than wedding dresses. She has lovely accessories.”

  “Can’t have too many of those.” He winked at Hyacinth. “Now.” He smiled up and down the table. “Who needs ghost stories?”

  “I do,” Ava Grace said. “For the Laurel Springs Fall Festival.”

  “I’m your guy.” He smiled at Ava Grace like she was the last woman on earth—and she was his type. Tall, beautiful, poised. She wasn’t blond like most of his previous girls, but her long, chestnut curls were worthy of a shampoo commercial.

  Dial it down, Sparky. Ava Grace is all but engaged.

  “You don’t even know when the festival is,” Evans said. This was not happening. It was bad enough that he was standing here letting his big eyes do their magic. He was not getting involved with her friends. “You might be playing hockey in Canada.”

  “I do so know, and I will not. I’ve already gotten word from above that I’ll be helping out and glad-handing there, so this is perfect. This can be my volunteer gig.”

  Ava Grace snapped her fingers. “Right. When she brought the tickets by, Claire told me the team was going to volunteer. I guess I forgot to tell you.”

  “I guess you did,” Evans said.

  Jake continued to make friends and influence people. “I’ll be glad to do it. And if I do say so myself, I’m not half bad.”

  “Really?” Ava Grace said. “I can’t thank you enough.” And wasn’t it just like Ava Grace to believe everything she was told?

  Evans met Jake’s eyes. “You don’t even know any ghost stories.” You just want to get in good with Ava Grace.

  His mouth fell open and he had the audacity to look shocked. “I do, too!”

  Evans took a sip of her drink. “Name one.”

  He closed his eyes for the barest second—just long enough to confirm that he was flying by the seat of his pants. She knew that look. When he opened his eyes again, he looked very sure. “I can name more than one. There’s ‘The Atchafalaya Swamp Witch,’ and ‘The Haunted Doll of Maple Leaf Plantation.’ She comes to life and digs her way out of a grave.” He curled his hands into claws and made a digging motion.

  He paused when Ava Grace and Hyacinth made shivery little sounds of glee. Evans wanted to scream at them not to encourage him.

  “Those two are from the Delta. There’s also the dead goalie who haunts Scotiabank Saddledome in Calgary. He took a skate to the carotid artery. It happened fast.” He closed his eyes, lowered his face, and shook his head, as if he were questioning how such an awful thing could happen. “They say he doesn’t know he’s dead. He still comes back to defend his net and leaves blood on the ice. You won’t find anything about it online; they don’t talk about it. But one of my college teammates plays for the Express. He’s seen him—the blood, too.”

  You won’t find it online because it didn’t happen.

  Evans gave her friends a sidelong glance. They were mesmerized—even Hyacinth, and mesmerizing her was a tall order. Was Evans the only one who had any sense here?

  “I was born and raised in the Delta, same as you,” Evans said, “and I’ve never heard of any swamp witch or haunted doll.”

  He smiled that heartbreak smile and laid a hand on her head. “You were a sensitive child, Evie. We didn’t talk about things like that in front of you.” The hair on the back of her neck stood up—certainly from frustration because he was patronizing her, and not because he was moving his fingers against her hair.

  Moving his fingers against her hair. He was ruffling her hair like she was a toddler! She moved her head away.

  “Me sensitive?” Evans said. “I wasn’t the one who ran screaming from the room when the clown showed up at Rusty Kane’s eighth birthday party.”

  “It was his fifth. And I think it was pretty smart of me. Have you ever seen the demonic look in those balloon animals’ eyes?”

  Everyone laughed, never mind that balloon animals didn’t have eyes.

  “I can’t thank you enough for this,” Ava Grace said.

  “My pleasure.” Yep. There was pleasure on his face for sure.

  “Hey, Sparks!” a dark-headed man called from around the corner. “Are you coming? The waitress is taking drink orders.”

  Good. Go, Jake. Shoo. Order a big manly drink. Play with your friends and leave mine alone.

  “No, Ryan. I’m good. I think I’ll join these ladies.” He met Evans’s eyes and jerked his head, indicating that he wanted her to move over.

  Don’t you jerk your head at me! “There’s not enough room,” Evans said before she remembered it was a table for four.

  He opened his mouth to speak, probably to point that out, when Hyacinth’s text notification chimed. It was Mendelssohn’s “Wedding March.” She looked at the screen then let out a cry of frustration and started gathering her things.

  “Let me out, Evans. I have to go.”

  “What’s wrong?” Ava Grace asked, alarmed.

  As Hyacinth slid over, Jake took Evans’s arm to help her up.

  “Nothing that requires a doctor—or the undertaker.” Hyacinth stood up. “Chloe made it through the ceremony, but had a seam burst during pictures. I’ve got to get over there and sew her back into that dress so she can go to the reception.”

  “Will you be back?” Evans asked.

  “No.” Hyacinth laid some money on the table. “I can only imagine what’s going to happen when the dancing starts.”

  “Do you want to take your food?” Ava Grace asked. “We can get them to pack it up for you real quick.”

  “No time.” She gave them a backward glance. “Jake? Why don’t you eat it? I just finished my salad. I haven’t touched the rest of it.”

  He let his eyes drift to the plate of Monterey jack chicken, baked potato, and asparagus.

  “I believe I will.” He steered Evans back to her seat. “Evie, if you’ll just slide over and pass me Hyacinth’s plate...yes. That’s it.”

  Evans found herself sitting between Jake and Ava Grace with Jake on the outside—in her place. How did that happen?

  “Thanks,” he said. “I like to sit on the outside. More leg room.” As he dug into the chicken, his knee knocked heavily into Evans’s.

  Oh, no he wasn’t. Was—was he actually manspreading? Evie picked up her knife and stabbed it directly into the heart of her bloody steak.

  * * *

  Jake couldn’t believe his luck at running into Evie so soon. He’d just gotten back from a surprise team-bonding trip to Atlanta and had intended to hunt her down after he ate to set things right between them.

  After the argument at Crust, he’d felt fairly defeated, but he wasn’t going to take it lying down. It was nothing short of divine intervention that he had happened upon the perfect vehicle for getting back in her good graces: helping out her friend. And all he had to do was tell ghost stories. It was true that he didn’t know any ghost stories, but who was he to walk away from divine intervention? Besides, how hard could it be? He’d have said he could knit a sweater if that’s what they’d been talking about. That had to be way harder than telling a ghost story. You had to have equipment to knit a sweater. All you needed for a ghost story was your own mouth.

  And he’d never had any trouble running that.

  Ava Grace held up a pitcher. “Would you like some of this, Jake?”

  He did not. He did not like froufrou drinks that might have tequila hiding in them. He opened his mouth to decline but Evie jumped in.

  “He doesn’t want that. Jake can’t drink tequila.” Evans cut her eyes at him. “He got drunk on it when he was a teenager and has never been the same since.” She hacked off a hunk of her giant steak and shoved it in her mo
uth.

  Ava Grace laughed. “That’s adorable.”

  “It was,” Evans said. “I especially liked the part where he was sick in my car when he called me to come get him and hide him until he sobered up.”

  “I paid to have your car detailed.” He took another bite of his chicken. It wasn’t what he would have ordered. He would have preferred a steak like Evie had—rare and as big as a hubcap. But the chicken had cheese and bacon—never a bad thing. Maybe Evie wouldn’t be able to eat all that steak and she’d give it to him.

  “I hear you’ve been in Atlanta, Jake?” Ava Grace asked.

  Word sure did get around in this little corner of the world—sort of like Cottonwood. “Yeah. We didn’t know we were going until we were herded onto a bus first thing, day before yesterday. It was a team-bonding trip.”

  “How did you know that, Ava Grace?” Evie asked. “Sometimes it seems like you have a crystal ball.”

  “One of the players—Logan—” Ava Grace searched for his last name.

  “Jensen,” Jake said.

  “Jensen rents a house on Bungalow Circle. He called Adele and asked her to go over and let the cable people in.” She turned to Jake. “My friend Adele’s family owns the development. That makes him Evans’s new neighbor. Hyacinth’s, too.”

  So noted. This was the first time in their lives that he hadn’t known where she lived and that didn’t seem natural.

  “What did you do on this surprise team-bonding expedition?” Evie asked. “Play paintball? Tie yourselves together and climb Stone Mountain?”

  “Nothing that exciting. We mostly checked into a hotel, had meals together, and skated.” It sounded lame even to him.

  “But you had to leave without even packing a bag?” Ava Grace picked at her pasta. “I wouldn’t like that. What did you do for toiletries and clothes?”

  Oh, hell. Now he had to tell them how things worked for major league pro players. “We had bags packed for us, so we had everything we needed.” Everything—toiletries, phone chargers, underwear, and Yellowhammer apparel—had been packed in Yellowhammer duffel bags.

  Evie frowned. “Do they always do that for you when you travel?”

  “Just our hockey gear. We’re responsible for our personal items. But not this time because we didn’t know.”

  Evie peppered her potato. “I’m sure your roommate was relieved you didn’t have to sleep naked and go all weekend without deodorant.”

  He almost didn’t respond to that, but he’d already lied about the ghost stories. He didn’t want to lie by omission.

  He swallowed a bite of chicken. “I didn’t have a roommate. We don’t have roommates. It’s in our contracts.”

  “And where did you stay?” Evie said it like she already knew.

  “Ritz-Carlton.” There was no reason to feel bad about any of this. He worked hard—even if it was fun—and the teams made lots of money. “The point of the whole trip was to see how we deal with the unexpected—hotels and unfamiliar ice.” Though to be honest, the Ritz was no hardship for anybody and the ice they’d used in Atlanta had been no more unfamiliar than their practice ice at this point. “We ate together and got to know each other better. That’s important for a team sport.”

  “What else did you do?” Ava Grace asked. “Anything fun? Maybe go to a Braves game?”

  “We went to Six Flags Over Georgia.”

  There was silence for a few seconds. “Seems like a Braves game would have been more suited to a bunch of hockey players,” Ava Grace said.

  “Maybe, but it wasn’t about us. They bused some kids over from this area who haven’t had the chance to go to an amusement park. They paired up team members and gave us four kids to show around. Robbie and I had six-year-olds.”

  Ava Grace cooed, and maybe teared up a little. Evie did not. She was hard to impress—not that he was trying.

  He went on, “Your pal Claire Watkins arranged it. Turns out she’s going to do some PR work for the team.”

  Evie nodded and her eyes were a little softer. “Even so, that was a nice thing for you to do.”

  “Thank you.” He took the compliment. While it might be true that he hadn’t had a choice, he hadn’t been required to buy them T-shirts, stuffed animals, and all the funnel cake and cotton candy they wanted—which had been a mistake. Jeremy had thrown up, which had necessitated a whole new set of clothes—and clothes did not come cheap at Six Flags Over Georgia. He could have gone to Vegas for what that little outing had cost. “Major league teams give back to the community.”

  “Like participating in the fall fest,” Ava Grace said. “I can’t wait.”

  Evie’s head jerked up from that half a cow she’d almost polished off. She had the look of someone who’d just remembered something important.

  “Ava Grace,” Evie said, “I know it was my idea, but maybe we should rethink these ghost stories.”

  “But why?” Ava Grace asked. “It’s a great idea. And having a pro hockey player tell the stories is icing on the cake.”

  “But here’s the thing,” Evie said slowly. “I’m not sure Jake knows the right kinds of stories.” She cut her eyes at him. “This is a family event. Don’t you think it will scare the children to hear about dolls that come to life and a dead hockey player who bleeds all over the ice?”

  “Oh.” Ava Grace looked disappointed. “I guess you’re right. I should have thought of that. The stories sounded so good and I got carried away.”

  Jake felt a little relief—the best kind. Where he would get credit for offering to do a thing without having to actually do it.

  “Don’t worry.” Evie patted Ava Grace’s hand. “We’ll think of something else. Something better.” She gave him a nasty little look as she uttered the last word.

  Hell, no! He would not be outdone. And also—the new and improved Jake ought to do what he’d said he would, even if there was an easy out.

  “Here’s how we can fix it,” he said. “I’ll just get on the internet and find some ghost stories for kids—maybe even order a book. Yeah. That’s it. Don’t you worry about a thing.” He gave Evie a so there look and reached across her to pat Ava Grace’s hand.

  “Oh!” Ava Grace clapped her hands together. “Jake, you would do that?”

  “I’ll get right on it.”

  Ava Grace was happy again, even if Evie wasn’t. Jake couldn’t figure why she was upset. He’d made the offer to help her friend just to please her.

  He’d just have to figure out another way to please her. God help him if it involved a clown and demon balloon animals.

  Chapter Nine

  “You are such a liar, Jake Champagne,” Evans said after she let Jake help her into the passenger seat of his car—a car that looked like it belonged on some European racetrack instead of the streets of Laurel Springs, Alabama. The doors opened the wrong way, making the car look like a giant green insect with its wings spread. She hated to think about what it must have cost. She wouldn’t have agreed to let him drive her home if she hadn’t wanted to take up this ghost story business with him—probably. “You totally made up those ghost stories.”

  “Are you sure about that?” He slid into the driver’s seat and started the car.

  “Of course I’m sure.” Kind of sure. Ok, so she’d never really paid much mind to ghost stories. “You made that whole thing up. Invented it on the spot.”

  “Where is this Bungalow Circle?” he asked.

  Damn. She’d already let him go past the turn. They’d have to backtrack, but he wouldn’t know the difference. “Turn right at the next traffic light. Go two blocks, turn right again and we’re there.”

  “Seems like,” he said as he made the turn, “we should have turned a block sooner.”

  So he had a good sense of direction. “Seems like we should do a lot of things—like tell the truth.”

 
“Here?” he asked. “Is this the turn?”

  “Yes. Mine is the gray house with the white trim.”

  He parked in front. “Is that your Honda CRV in the driveway?”

  That rattled her a little. She had an agenda and he was making small talk. “Yes. Why?”

  “No reason. There doesn’t have to be a reason for everything. Why did you pick blue?”

  “I didn’t pick blue. It was the one on the lot with the other features I wanted.”

  “Hmm.” She knew what that sound meant—that it wasn’t what he would have done. “I picked green. You should never settle, Evie.”

  She could have pointed out that if she had paid as much as he must have for a car, she would have chosen the color, but this was a pointless conversation. She had an agenda to get back to.

  “I didn’t settle. I like blue just fine.”

  “Never settle for ‘just fine.’ Get things you love.”

  “Have you always done that?” Did you do that when you picked Channing? She would never have said that part, but he knew what she meant and the question hung between them just the same.

  He shrugged. “I’ve done my damnedest. I’ve taken a wrong road or six, but I have never settled—even when my choice wasn’t the best. But I own that I need to make better choices. I’m trying to do that.”

  She took a deep breath. Enough of that. She intended to have this fall fest business out with him here and now. “Look, Jake. Implying that you’re an experienced storyteller, when we both know you are not, might be fun for you, but Ava Grace is trying to establish a business. She hasn’t been open a year yet.” She would not tell him that Ava Grace was struggling. That wasn’t hers to tell. “She can’t have a lame fall fest activity.”

  He didn’t answer her right then. He hopped out, ran around the front of the car, and opened the insect wing door. So much for the here and now. “Who said it would be lame?”

  Evans made no move to unbuckle her seatbelt. “You know what I mean.”

  “No.” He shook his head. “I really don’t.”

  “You were just kidding around tonight. I’m not going to let you jerk Ava Grace around.”