Page 90 of Pros Don't

He grabs for my hand, and we walk over to the far side of the barn where Inez from the bakery is standing behind the check-in table.

“I wondered if you two would make it.” She hands us each an apron. “Put these on, and then head over that way. You’re next to each other at the far table, right by Rose and Anton.”

I glance over my shoulder, and Rose waves at me.

“The Cashmere Cove police force will secure your hands behind your back, not with handcuffs but with a comfy bandana.” Inez grins. “First person to finish their pie wins a free slice of pie a week from the café for the next year.”

“You game?” Holland asks as we take our places.

I slip my apron over my head, my competitive juices flowing. “I feel like I was born for this.”

The table in front of us is covered in a plastic tablecloth. There’s a line of cherry pies topped with whipped cream at even intervals on the table.

“Switch spots with me,” Holland says as he dons his apron.

“Why?”

“Because your pie is smaller.” He reaches for my pie. “Easier to finish.”

“No way. I want to win.” I swat his hand away. “Keep your grubby paws off my pie.”

A police officer comes up behind us and secures our wrists, eliminating Holland’s chance to swap our pies.

“There is so much I could say about this handcuff situation,” Holland mutters out of the corner of his mouth when the cop moves on to tie up Anton and Rose.

“Don’t do it,” I warn.

“What? You can’t deny that, without the use of our hands, we’ll have to be much more agile with other parts of our bodies, like our mouths and our tongues.”

My jaw drops as I turn to look at him. Is he for real right now? His face is neutral, like he’s not thinking about how that all sounds.

He leans toward me. “Because mouths and tongues are really good for eating pie, you know?”

Oh, this man. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Right.” I swallow. A frisson of something sweet spreads over my skin. I don’t know if I’m anticipating my first bite of pie, orif this has more to do with the mischievous twinkle in deep end of Holland’s eye, but in any case, I’m ready to dive in. “I always eat my pie with my mouth and my tongue. Lips too,” I add with a shrug.

Because two can play at this game.

34

Pie

Holland

Leave it to Mallory to not let me get away with my smart mouth without throwing my words right back at me—and taking them up a notch.

I can’t help it. My gaze drops to her lips.

When I meet her eyes again, she’s smirking. “Don’t start a game you can’t finish, Bradley.”

I crack a grin. “Bring it on, Walsh.”

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen.” Inez steps to the center of the stage. “Thank you for joining us for the first annual Celebrity Pie-Eating Contest. Let’s hear it for our contestants. We’ve got several members of the Green Bay River Foxes here with us as well as Holland Bradley and his coach, Mallory Walsh.”

The crowd that’s gathered to watch us stuff our faces cheers.

“Make sure every last crumb of your pie is eaten in order to win. Sheriff Rattler will be the official judge.” Inez steps off to the side. “On your marks, get set, go eat some pie!”

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