Recipe for Romance

by Olivia Miles

  “I wonder what that girl is up to,” Lucy mused. “She seemed to be almost running from something, taking the back stairs and all.”

  Scott had the unsettling suspicion that she had been running from him. Not that he could fault her.

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d say Emily seemed a little flustered around you.” Lucy took a slow sip of her drink, staring casually ahead into the distance. “If I didn’t know better, that is.”

  “Please. Emily and I are ancient history.”

  “If you say so,” Lucy said archly.

  Scott snorted. He couldn’t deny the disappointment—or relief—he’d felt last night when he’d finally just marched over to the door down the hall and knocked on it, ready to come clean, ready to set things right, only to learn that Emily wasn’t even home. The thought of hurting her again killed him—but the thought of leaving this town without telling her everything was worse.

  She deserved the truth.

  “I say so,” he said, but his heart said something altogether different. “We were just kids when we dated. That rarely amounts to anything.”

  “George and I were just kids when we got married, and look at us now,” Lucy pointed out.

  Scott bristled. “That’s...different.”

  “Maybe so. And I can’t say it’s always been easy. Financially, that is.”

  Scott dragged a hand down his face. He didn’t like to think of his sister worrying about money when he had so much. But she was a proud woman, a hardworking woman. An honest woman. “Sometimes I think about how different life would have been if I’d stayed,” he said, catching himself only after he’d spoken.

  Beside him, he heard his sister sigh. “Oh, well. Maybe it’s for the best, really. Look at how far you’ve come.”

  He turned to her, his temper stirring when he thought of his father and the lingering consequences of the choice he had made all those years ago. He took a long sip of his iced coffee, waiting for it to cool him, slow his racing pulse.

  “Mom and Dad never wanted me to stick around. They told me if I married Emily, I could forget being a part of the family business. They ever tell you that?” He glanced at his sister sidelong, noting the dismay in her expression, and the lack of surprise.

  “They never agreed with the choice I made to marry young, and you know that. They wanted something else for you. Something more. You’d been accepted to a great college. They didn’t want you to squander opportunities. They thought they were doing what was best for you.”

  She really didn’t get it. It was better that way, he told himself firmly, before he steered the conversation in a direction it never needed to go. “Well, funny that now I’m suddenly needed so badly at the family company,” he said bitterly.

  “You’re older now, Scott. It’s different.” She paused. “So there’s really nothing left between you and Emily?”

  Scott stared into his glass. “Nope.”

  “You two do look good together,” Lucy mused.

  “Lucy.” His tone was firm. She couldn’t drag him down this path. He wouldn’t let her. He had to be strong and fight these feelings. “Stop. You know I’m not in town for long.”

  “I know.” She sighed. “I was just hoping you would change your mind. I guess I thought maybe you might find a reason to stay.”

  “And you thought that reason might be Emily?” How little she knew. A moment of weakness caused him to wonder if he should set her straight. But he couldn’t, not yet. First he needed to tell Emily, and find a way to set things right as best he could. He needed to take responsibility for his actions.

  And he needed to see if somehow, someway, he could make her believe in him again.

  * * *

  Emily sighed as she hung her apron on the hook and smoothed the black dress Julia had lent her. Another long, busy day at the bakery had kept her distracted, but now, as the last customer settled their bill, all those uncertainties came swimming back to the forefront. She couldn’t shake the image of Scott sitting on Lucy’s porch this morning—she’d purposefully gone out of her way to avoid him by taking the back stairs, but the spark of excitement she felt when she saw him was undeniable.

  It was the fatigue talking, she told herself. There was so much going on all at once with Scott being back, the bakery opening, and of course, the possibility that she might be accepted to culinary school. All at once life had gone from being painfully routine to bewilderingly unpredictable.

  The first week at the bakery had been a success, but not without a lot of hard work and effort. Emily glanced at Lucy, who was looking over the books, tallying up the profits, and felt a twinge of dread. She’d applied to that school in Boston back when she was working at the diner, pouring coffee and shuffling orders to and from the kitchen. Now she felt queasy when she thought of the opportunity she was giving up—of how much she was needed here, and how much Lucy depended on her.

  “We had a good week, Em,” Lucy said, still focused on the spreadsheets in front of her. “Why don’t you get out of here early? I’ll finish off the rest of the pies for tomorrow’s festival.”

  Emily frowned. “You sure?” The Spring Fling was already tomorrow, and they still had two dozen mini-pies to bake for the pie-eating contest.

  “Go home,” Lucy said. “That’s an order from your boss.”

  Emily smiled tiredly. “Thanks, Lucy. See you tomorrow, then?”

  “Sure, we can all go together,” Lucy suggested, looking up from her paperwork. “Scott’s coming, too.”

  Emily paused. “That sounds like fun,” she managed.

  Too much fun. If she knew what was good for her, she would stay away from Scott and focus on the future, not the past.

  With a wave, she pushed out into the late afternoon sunshine, walking quickly in an effort to pound out any fleeting hopes that had no place in her current life. She halted when she saw Scott walking casually down the street, and then slowly resumed her path.

  No place at all, she reminded herself. Scott had taken those hopes with her when he left town, and he’d take them with him again if she let him.

  Emily turned her key in the side door that led to the staircase and the rooms above the diner, but it was no use. Scott was coming closer now, he’d seen her, and when she dared to steal a look in his direction, he held up a hand. Her pulse skipped a beat as his bright blue eyes shone in the sunlight.

  “How was work today?” he asked, coming to stand next to her. As his eyes roamed over her face, she held her breath, thinking of what Julia had suggested that morning.

  “Busy,” she said. “But I suppose that’s a good thing.” She fumbled with her key, but her hands were beginning to tremble.

  “You’ve been putting in long hours,” he commented. “I stopped by to see you last night, but your sister said you were still working.”

  See her? So it hadn’t just been to return the pie plate.

  “Yes, Julia mentioned that.” She bit her lip. “I...hope she didn’t give you a hard time.”

  Scott smiled affably. “Nah. We had a nice conversation, actually.”

  “Oh?” Emily’s mind began to whirl with possibilities.

  “Yeah, we reminisced a bit. She caught me up on some of the happenings around town.” He shrugged. “She really looks up to you.”

  Emily frowned. “Oh?”.

  Scott’s grin widened. “She couldn’t sing your praises enough.”

  Oh, Julia. Emily felt her cheeks flush and she forced the key abruptly, fearing for a moment she had snapped it in half, and then let herself into the darkened vestibule. A stack of letters sat at her feet, having fallen out of the open mailbox. She bent down to retrieve the pile, aware of Scott’s presence behind her as she did so. Straightening her spine, she kept her back to him for the length of a good hard breath before she whirl
ed again to face him. Her heart dropped with longing as her gaze met his handsome features.

  Damn it, was there ever going to be a day where the sight of that chiseled jaw and those twinkling eyes didn’t leave her physically aching? His presence was so all-consuming, that when she was alone with him like this, she forgot to breathe. Attraction this deep was dangerous. And rare. No wonder she had never been able to shake the image of him. No wonder, despite how deeply he had hurt her, she still dared to dream of him.

  “You coming in?” Her voice was choked and breathless.

  He held up a stack of blueprints and a binder nearly four inches thick with papers. “I’m heading over to the office, actually. It’s easier when most of the people there have already left for the day.”

  Emily nodded. She understood how it felt to live in a town where you were the object of speculation and gossip.

  “How are the plans for the library coming along?” She had been wondering how his meeting with Max had gone at the diner the day before. From what she could tell, the men hit it off well. She wasn’t surprised though. The two had a lot in common. They were both successful, they were both charming and they both seemed to hold a sadness in their eyes at times despite their heart-melting grins.

  “I think we’ll start construction in about six weeks,” Scott said, revealing nothing as Emily locked his gaze, searching for more insight. She couldn’t deny the flutter of hope that filled her chest: Did he plan to stay until then? A lot could happen in six weeks.

  She waited for him to elaborate, but when he did not, she volunteered, “I’m sure the town will be thrilled. It was the children’s wing that was damaged, right?” She motioned to the blueprints, curiosity getting the better of her. “Can I see?”

  Scott raised his eyebrows in surprise but he looked pleased as he set down his binder and unraveled the blueprints, awkwardly spreading them against the inside of the door as he crossed into the vestibule. As he spread the blueprints out wide, she oohed and ahhed over the truly beautiful design, but her gaze lingered firmly on Scott’s biceps, which flexed as he adjusted the large scroll. His golf shirt stretched under the width of his broad shoulders. She traced the contours of his back with her eyes, imaging her fingers skimming all the way down to his waist. And beyond.

  “I can’t take credit for the design,” Scott said, shrugging as he began rolling the print. “My dad brainstormed that part with an architect.”

  “Well, he did a great job. He should be proud.”

  Scott’s smile fell. Instantly, Emily regretted saying anything, but Scott had opened the door to the conversation. What was it between Scott and his father? It went beyond him not wanting to discuss his father’s declining health. Noticing the way Scott’s jaw twitched and his mouth took the form of a thin, grim line, Emily pondered what could keep someone this angry at their own parent for this long. Especially under the current circumstances.

  “I hope Lucy likes it,” Scott said and then quickly added, “I know she was really upset about Bobby’s part in it.”

  Emily smiled kindly. “It was an accident. At least no one was hurt.”

  Scott nodded and seemed to swallow hard, taking pause at her words. Emily glanced down at the mail in her hands, realizing she had overstepped, and her breath caught when she noticed the return address on the top envelope. The culinary school in Boston.

  “I should probably get to the office,” Scott said, and Emily couldn’t help but detect a thread of disappointment in his tone.

  She nodded, unable to bring herself to speak. She clenched the envelopes in her hands until she felt them become slick with the sweat from her palms, but Scott made no movement toward the door.

  “What did you want to talk about?” Emily asked suddenly, pulling herself from the thoughts whirling through her head as she stared at the letter. “Last night, when you stopped by.”

  Scott’s gaze pierced through hers, until her heart started to race from more than the possibility of her fate tucked inside the sealed envelope.

  After a beat he said, “Nothing that can’t wait.”

  Emily frowned. “I have time.”

  “I wanted to thank you for the pie again.” He grinned.

  The pie plate. Emily internally scowled. Julia had obviously built the visit up to be more than it was. Much more.

  Scott held up his blueprints, flashing her a grin. “I should really get going.”

  Emily tried to hide her disappointment.

  “See you later, then.”

  She watched him take the three steps down to the sidewalk, lifting her hand as he turned back to wave his blueprints at her, and then she leaned back against the wall, closing her eyes, listening to the pounding of her heart.

  Glancing down at the letter in her hands she held it up to the light, pursing her lips when she was unable to make out any of the words written inside. Her entire future was in this envelope, all her hopes for something more in life.

  Without stopping to think about what she was doing, she ripped open the envelope as quickly as she could, not bothering to care about the rough jagged edge she had forced with her fingertip. She pulled the letter from the sleeve, her chest heaving with emotion, her hands shaking as her eyes skimmed the page so quickly, she only made out random phrases rather than the collective point.

  By the time she reached the bottom she burst out laughing. A change in the fall schedule. They had sent her a letter about a modification in the course catalogue! Depleted of energy, she sat down on the bottom step and waited for her breathing to return to normal as she folded the letter back into the badly torn envelope and tucked it into her handbag.

  She was spared the demand of being forced into a decision. Only a matter of months ago when she had sent in her application, she had thought this was all she wanted. The chance to hone her skills, pursue her passion. The chance to start over and be herself and define herself by her future, not her past. Suddenly, she wasn’t sure that was even what she wanted.

  The only man she had ever loved was back in town. For how long, she didn’t know. A part of her wanted to run from him, run from the town that had caused her such pain, that reminded her of her loss everywhere she turned. It was exactly what her sister had accused her of doing—avoiding more heartache.

  A few months ago she had thought sending in her application was taking a risk. That starting life over in a new town with new people was the biggest leap of faith she could ever make, that it would take courage she didn’t even know she had. But now...now she wondered if sticking around and dealing with the life she had been given was the biggest risk of all.

  Chapter Eight

  Scott glanced down at the date on his email and blinked. Nearly a week had passed since he’d first driven into town, and against his reservations, he was beginning to think he might miss the place when he was gone. His gut twisted when he thought of the day when he would get in his rental car and drive away, this time knowing he would never be welcome to return.

  Closure, they said, did wonderful things for the healing process. Well, he was banking on it. In Seattle he lived an anonymous life, free of the burden of his past. His friends there knew nothing of him other than what he chose to reveal. The brief relationships he’d had over the years never amounted to more than casual flings—the common complaint among the women he’d dated was that he had too many walls up, that they never felt they knew the real him. Scott had let them go, knowing they were right, hoping that eventually he would meet someone he could trust enough to be himself with, trust enough to take down the mask and expose the man beneath.

  He just never expected that person would be Emily. After all these years, she was still the only one who could reach him.

  Scott ran his hand over the stubble on his jaw and released a long sigh as he tore his thoughts from Emily and tried to focus on the chain of email
s that had collected in his in-box over the past few days. Two major projects were scheduled to break ground next month, and he probably had another week—two at best—before they’d need him back in the office. He supposed in a pinch he could fly in for a few days and then come back, but that was dangerous thinking. The sooner he severed himself from Maple Woods, and everyone in it, the better. The longer he was in town, the easier it was to think of what might have been. He clicked on the next email, pushing away the thought that refused to budge.

  His stomach began to burn and he peeled another antacid free of its wrapper and set the roll back on the table. From the window in his room above the diner, his eyes rested on the festivities below, where a large tent was being set up in the middle of the town square. It was one of the few days of the year that Lucy’s Place closed down, and Scott could sense how much Lucy was looking forward to eating food she hadn’t cooked. He chewed on the chalky coating in his mouth. Chances were high that Emily felt the same way.

  Scott leaned forward in his chair and forced his eyes to the computer screen, where he worked without stopping for the next few hours. After a quick shower and shave, he stepped out into the hall, careful to keep an ear out for Emily, but the building was silent. He pushed through the back door and jogged down the fire escape. Lucy and George were already on their porch when he strolled past the overgrown hydrangea bushes blooming with blue, purple and pink flowers.

  “Bobby’s coming along later. With friends,” Lucy informed him after he’d greeted his brother-in-law, standing to smooth the skirt of her sundress.

  “Shall we, then?” Scott gestured down the quiet street toward the center of town.

  “Not yet,” Lucy interrupted. “I asked Emily to join us.”

  Scott’s eyebrows shot up as he met and locked his sister’s eyes. He clenched and unclenched his fists as he waited for his temper to subside. “I thought you weren’t going to play matchmaker anymore.”

  Lucy laughed easily and waved her hand through the air. “Settle down, Scott. I’ve given up any hopes of that. You’re safe.”