Page 83 of Hand Picked
Did not matter.
Because I had the fairy tale, and only a greedy idiot would want to keep the handsome prince, too.
“Lukey, honey, if you don’t like the pie, just say so.” The scent of my mom’s White Diamonds perfume got stronger as she leaned over to whisper in my ear.
“Hmm?” I looked up to find her—and my Aunt Sue, and most of the Sunday family—watching in concern as I hacked my dessert to smithereens.
My face got hot, and I hunched over my plate. “Oh, gosh, I’m so sorry. No, the pie’s great. One of your best, Mom!” I scooped an enthusiastic bite into my mouth in demonstration. “I was just thinking about, uh… nothing? You know how it goes. Long day.”
“Understandable,” Knox agreed smoothly. “Many’s the time this week when I’ve found Webb chopping at something while he thinks about nothing. Isn’t that right, Webb?”
Webb ignored his brother. “Ms. Williams, this really is delicious. I don’t like pie, but this one’s got something different about it. Something… flowery.”
“Yes! It’s lavender! Not just a gorgeous face and a fine set of shoulders, is he, Lukey?” My mother elbowed me in the side, and though I refused to look toward the other end of the table, I could picture Webb blushing at the compliment. “Yourbetrothedis a smarty-pants, too.”
I forced a smile. “Isn’t he, though?”
Smarter than me, that was for sure.
Webb would never come as dangerously close to catching real feelings as I had. Webb was smart enough to cut himself off from the possibility entirely.
“Really, though, who doesn’t like pie?” I demanded of no one in particular. “That’s just… odd. Isn’t it? Because pie… It’s a pretty broad flipping category of food. Just because a person doesn’t like onion tart doesn’t mean they won’t like strawberry refrigerator pie, does it? And just because you had a bad experience with an apple pie one time doesn’t mean you won’t enjoy a crustless bacon quiche! Nothing is wrong withpie, okay? Pie is… pie is great. Pie can beamazing.”
I ended my tirade and noticed silence had fallen around the table. I felt the weight of ten heavy stares. “And this pie here… it’s yummy. Really, Mama. So yummy.”
“Isaidit was good,” Webb insisted defensively. “I said it was delicious.”
For the first time since we’d sat down to dinner, I looked up the length of the table and let my eyes drink their fill of Webb Sunday. Somehow, he was even sexier than I remembered him being half an hour ago, which was annoying.
“Yes, I heard what you said. It’s nothing personal, Webb. I’m simply saying that if a person goes around telling himself and everyone else that he doesn’t like pie, then maybe someday he won’t be offered pie anymore. And that would be a tragedy. Because you just admitted thatthispie is delicious.” I shoveled another huge bite in my mouth and swallowed it as he watched. “So maybe you should open your mind, okay?”
Webb tilted his head in confusion. “I… suppose?”
I nodded once, firmly.
“Well.” My mom clapped her hands once. “That was… a great reminder for all of us, thank you, Lukey. But you know, now I’m justdyingto hear the whole story of how y’all came to be handfasted. Such a charming town tradition!”
“I still wanna know what handfastingis,” Aunt Sue added.
“I already explained it,” I reminded her. “The other day when you arrived.”
“You gave us the CliffsNotes,” she argued. “We want the whole thing. How’d you go from blowing a trumpet to having your names on refrigerator magnets and commemorative scrolls at the gift shop in town?”
“It’s abugle,” Webb corrected. “Not a—wait, they have commemorative scrolls with our names?”
“Yep. And the mayor’s giving ’em away free to anyone who helps you and Luke check off your list,” Marco said happily. “I’m angling to get one.”
Webb shot him a dirty look.
“You know, Ms. Williams—Laura—makes an excellent point,” Knox said, leaning his elbows on the table and resting his chin on his hands. “I still haven’t heard the whole bugle story myself, just a bunch of rumors. I think this might be…enlightening.”
“I agree.” Drew raised an eyebrow in Webb’s direction.
Webb’s shoulders slumped.
“I agree, too!” Aiden said eagerly, brandishing his pie spoon. “Tell the story.”
“Aiden, I think it’s homework time.” Webb’s voice was uncompromising.
