Page 2 of Pining for Porter
"They say when the leaves fall in Maple Ridge, the mountain men fall too," Martha supplies with a wink.
I swivel my head toward Monroe, who rolls her eyes. "It's an old wives tale."
"Well, you're talking to two old wives, who have seen a thing or two," Martha jokes good-naturedly.
"Well, thank you for thinking of me, but I'm focused on baking pies these days. No time for dating. None. At all, ladies." My eyes dart between the two of them, waiting for a response or some kind of affirmation, but both women blink at me without saying a single word.
Still eyeing them suspiciously, I give Monroe a quick hug before hightailing it to work.
Time to get my weekly fix of heartache.
Chapter 2
Stella
"Stellaaaaaaaaaaa!" Vincent Rockford bellows my name as I enter the diner, and a bunch of the regulars chuckle. He's the retired high-school drama teacher, who also taught music and coached the baseball team to state twenty years ago. His favorite play isA Streetcar Named Desire, so anytime he sees me, whether it's here at the diner, on the street, or in the middle of the library, he yells my name like he's Stanley Kowalski.
"Hiya, Stanley," I chuckle, rushing behind the counter. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I say to my boss, but Mitzie waves me off and grabs the pie boxes from me.
"Good timing. I told Porter you were expected with fresh pie any second." Mitzie's fluffy blonde hair swings as she heads down to the other end of the counter to load the pies on the glass stands, completely oblivious to the effect that name has on me. I turn to look at his regular booth, and two dark brown eyes lock with mine. A sudden rush of desire soaks my panties, but he glances away and out at the street as he sips his coffee.
I swallow hard, trying to ignore my wet undies, and head over to his table. Porter glances up briefly, but looks back down at his coffee when I approach.
"Hi, Porter. Pie today?" I tuck my hair behind my ear nervously, willing myself not to fidget.
"Yes." He clears his throat, but doesn't look at me. "Yes, please."
Porter's voice is like silk, or creamy chocolate melting on the stove. I want to bathe in it. I want to hand him a sexy book and make him read me the entire thing while I ride his—
"What kind do you have today?" he asks, leveling me with those dark brown eyes richer than my finest cocoa.
"Cherry, taffy apple, and chocolate walnut," I manage to squeak out.
"Taffy apple, please." He lifts his mug to his mouth, and I lick my lips. I've never wanted to be a cup before, but here we are. I'm losing my goddamn mind in the middle of a kitschy diner in Tennessee. When I realize I'm still staring, I hustle away, shaking my head.
"Watch out, Maple Ridge. Stella's gonna make it rich with those pies and get out of this little town in no time." Gregor, our part-time chef and Mitzie's youngest son, grins over the counter at me.
"I'll get your slice, Stella," Mitzie offers, and I nod, waiting by the end of the counter for her to return.
"Best pie I've ever had," Gregor says, licking his lips like he can taste it.
"In your ripe old twenty-two years on this earth?" Mitzie raises her eyebrows, but then turns to me quickly. "Your pies are amazing, but please don't let him think he's charming. That boy would flirt with a fence post if it had a bow on it."
I snort out a laugh, and Mitzie hands me the plate for Porter.
"I'm telling you, Stella. You need to send your pies to the women online. They'll make videos about how delicious they are, and then we'll never see you again. Lucky lady." Gregor grins at me, but I shake my head in amusement. That boy is adorable, but anywhere outside of Maple Ridge would eat him alive.
For some of the younger people in town, they can't wait to get out. If Gregor only understood how lonely my life was before moving here, he might not be in such a hurry to hightail out of town.
I round the corner with Porter's pie and pull back quickly as a large body barrels past me. I do a double-take when I realize it's Porter's hulking frame racing through the front door.
"What about your pie?" I call out, but the door has already shut behind him.
What in the world?
I head over to his table and glance out the window to see if he's coming back, but find he left more than enough money to cover the bill.
Mitzie walks over carrying the coffee pot and lets out a low whistle. "Twenty bucks for a cup of coffee? Look out, Stella. The leaves are falling."
