Page 9 of Pining for Porter
"We'll see." I shrug my shoulders, still irritated and wanting him to know it. "I might see if Gregor's available first. Or, maybe I should call up Wayne Peters. He just had his hip replaced, so that might be a lot of fun," I snap at him. "Apparently my grandma was right. Now that the floodgates have opened, I won't be able to close my legs ever again. I have a lot of lost time to make up for."
Porter growls, reaching for my hips, but I swat his hand with a spatula. "If you want to get on my good side, get the crates of apples out of the fridge and start peeling."
Apparently, the man has some sense of self-preservation left because he gets to work. And, oh boy, is he a worker bee. Porter manages to core and peel all the apples like he's trying to set a record. As they soak up the sugar and spice mixture, I roll out the pie crusts, making an assembly line along the prep tables and laying them neatly into pans.
Without being asked, Porter grabs a broom and cleans up the drifts of flour still swirled on the floor from my fright earlier. When I ladle out the filling and start my lattice work, he fills the sink and gets to work on dishes. I pause for a moment to watch him and can't help but grin when he sings along to "Genie in a Bottle."
"You like 90s music?" I ask, and he glances at me quickly.
"I don't hate it," he grumbles, making me smile even more.
By 8am, we're loading up Monroe's van with boxes of pie and heading over to the festival to set up. I requested a space near a shaded tree so that I wouldn't have to deal with any direct sunlight, but the cool October weather keeps my pies at the perfect temperature.
Porter wanders off while I fuss with the tablecloth and decorations. Once I'm satisfied, I take some pictures to send to Monroe and my parents, and then I look around for my sexy mountain man.
He's at the end of the row talking to Felix who ownsDixon Woodworks. After a moment, the two men shake hands and say their goodbyes. As Porter ambles back toward my table, I notice Felix's eyes flick to the table next to his where a pretty woman is setting up her gorgeous mosaic pieces.
Love is in the air.
I grin, and then my friend Serena, selling her jewelry a few booths down, catches my eye. She nods at theSpicy Applebooth next to mine where a guy named Hayes is ladling out cups of his spiked cider. Serena pretends to fan herself as she mouths,oh my god.
Good lord.If the Maple Ridge Town Council ever advertised the power of falling leaves in this town, we'd have to build ten new hotels to accommodate the visitors.
With his long strides, Porter reaches my table in no time and grins at me.
"Thank you for your help this morning." I tuck my hair behind my ear, suddenly shy. He pulls me over, slotting me into his arms like I was made to fit. I snuggle into his chest, feeling small against his large body.
"It's the least I could do, cupcake. You look tired, and I'm afraid I don't see you getting much sleep for a while." He bends to kiss my neck, and I sigh with contentment.
"Sleep is overrated anyway." My voice is breathy with need and desire.
"How long are we here for today?" Porter asks quietly. His breath tickles my ear, and a soft warmth travels through my body.
"The booths close at 5pm, or sooner if I sell out. I can't use the kitchen until after closing tonight, so we'd have all evening to..." I trail off, and my cheeks heat despite the PDA from Porter that suggests he will be on board with my plan.
Porter pulls back and calls out loudly in his deep voice, "Pies! Get your pies!"
I break out into a loud laugh. "Good thing I've got an opening in sales. You're hired." I lift on my tiptoes and kiss him.
This man has my heart, and I've got his.
Chapter 7
Epilogue - Porter
"Alright, that's another successful festival," Stella declares, shutting the door on the little van we purchased for her bakery.
Stella opened her pie shop,3.14 Slice,in May of this year, and it has gone like gangbusters. She's turned the entire town onto her savory pies. Even old Wayne Peters, who loudly declared that only fruit belonged in pie, now orders an entire beef and mushroom pie once a month. Stella sells almost as many of her caramelized fig and goat cheese pies as she does cherry. I drive her down the mountain in the mornings, and back up to our cabin at night, Wednesday through Sunday. I don't mind the drive, but I'm looking into renting a small warehouse west of Main Street so I can be closer to her.
Stella grins at me and blows me a kiss before getting into the van and heading over to the bakery to drop everything off. I slam the door of the truck bed closed, careful not to ding the wood shelves inside. I had Felix build a custom pie stand for the festival this year, and in exchange, I made him aDixonFurnituresign for his shop. I've received three more local orders since. It was a win-win.
Stella and I got married right before Christmas. True to his word, Danny flew out to serve as our witness, and Monroe even postponed her trip a day to be our second. When Danny found out Monroe was headed to a little cabin north of Duhring Park for the holidays, he immediately put her in touch with his wife Addy, and sister-in-law, Cora. It turned out to be a fortuitous connection, as her trip didn't go quite as expected.
When I get to the bakery, Stella has already dropped off the few remaining pies and is locking the door.
As she gets in my truck, I eye her legs appreciatively. "You trying to drive me wild with that skirt, cupcake?"
"Maybe." Stella shrugs, but the corner of her mouth turns up as she eyes me. "Take me home, sexy. I need to thank you properly for all your hard work."
