Page 116 of One Small Spark
Gross.
I hope it never stops.
I squint at the pie case as if I don’t know. “We’ve got a new flavor this week.” My hands go stupidly sweaty. “It’s a chocolate silk pie with a pretzel crust, topped with bourbon cream.”
Realization tips his mouth up ever so slowly. “That sounds amazing, Wren.”
He could tone down how flattered he looks. It’s not like I got a tattoo for him.
“It’s our most popular pie today.” I lift a shoulder. “After pumpkin, but that doesn’t count this close to Thanksgiving.”
The number of pumpkins that have given their lives to the cause this week is appalling.
“I don’t mind being second. I’ll take a whole pie, please.”
“We don’t have any whole pies left in the case.” I hate how his little smile drops. He thinks I didn’t plan ahead for this? “But I might have saved you one in the back.”
I slip through the swinging door, passing Tess wrapping a cake to decorate tomorrow. I open one of the industrial refrigerators and grab the pie I set aside from my first batch this afternoon. I’d thought about bringing him the tester pie I made earlier in the week to try it with him but couldn’t do it. If it’d turned out awful, we’d be eating bites of crappy pie together. Nobody wants that.
“We reserve pies back here all the time, you know.” Tess watches me pull several cautionary sticky notes off the pie box. “You didn’t have to word those threats in such detail.”
“It got my point across.”
She shakes her head at me, but goes back to finishing up at her workstation. Good. I don’t want her snooping around in my private life the way I do in hers.
Out front, Jamie’s helping a customer who walked in just before we close for the night. I round the counter and hand the boxed pie to Shepherd. “On the house.”
The pie-lust in his eyes fades into something stern, but I hold up a hand before he can argue. He can fix up my whole bike, but I can’t give him a pie? No way. “We’ll figure something out. But you get that one for being the inspiration behind it.”
Oh, no. Is my smileshy? Why am I like this? Just because I’m bursting with hope he likes the pie flavor pairings I came up with while thinking about him? Silly goose.
But his return smile is wildly reassuring.
“Also, it’s kind of an apology. I don’t think I’ll have the energy to come over until after Thanksgiving. I’m so exhausted in the evenings, and tomorrow I’m on August duty.” I don’t want to admit it might be even longer—with all those pies Charlie ordered for Moonlight Lodge’s gala, we’ll be swamped more than usual next week, too.
I’d try harder to carve out an hour or two for him, but he really didn’t like me driving home in the dark when I was sotired the other night. Ramping up his anxiety like that isn’t worth it.
My house isn’t really an option, for obvious reasons.
His mouth quirks. “What about Thanksgiving? My family eats dinner at mid-day.”
“I like the way you think.” And am way too excited to have that on my calendar to look forward to.
He watches me for another minute, silently challenging. I can guess what he wants me to do. I just don’t have it in me. I’ve always hated losing to him in our face-offs, but I can’t kiss Shepherd Callahan in my bakery.
“See you tomorrow, Wren,” he finally says.
I nod, wishing I had the courage to just lay one on him. Just smooch the heck out of him and not worry about the consequences.
Except, why don’t I? Jamie’s the only one out here to bear witness, and who cares what strangers on Maple Street think? I’ve never let their opinions bother me before.
I jog through the store to catch up with him just outside on the sidewalk. It’s dark already, but he’s fully illuminated by the glow of the bakery. “Shepherd.”
He turns, and I grab the lapels of his flannel shirt, tugging him down to meet me. He’s more than willing, wrapping his free hand around my waist as his mouth meets mine. We’re like those old-timey couples kissing one last time before one of them ships off to war. Only, in this case, the war is the lunacy of the Thanksgiving holiday.
When I finally pull back, he’s smirking up a storm. “Can that come extra with all my pies?”
“Cheeky.” I press another quick kiss to his mouth. “But good idea.”
