Page 10 of Autumn be His Wife
I’ve heard everyone knows everyone in small towns, but I didn’t expect to be called out the first time I stepped out in public.
Nodding my head, her eyes seem to grow brighter.
“Would you like to try a sample?” Tilting her head, her smile softens as her question seems more like a demand than a request. “Pick a flavor.”
Maybe I’ve made some silly mistakes lately, but I’m not an idiot. I know when to seize an opportunity when it presents itself. Still, asking for a handout is tougher than I thought it’d be.
When I struggle to do as I’m told, she encourages me once more, a little softer this time.
All these flavors, and she just wants me to pick one?
Barely avoiding pressing my forehead against the glass this time around, I drink in a slice that is oozing chunks of apple and covered in specs of cinnamon.
“The apple one, please.” I swallow, already imagining the taste of caramelized chunks of fruit.
Izzy lets out a small laugh, one that’s full of amusement. Right now, she’s looking like an angel without the glow.
I love this woman, and I don’t even know who she is.
“Coming right up.” Disappearing to snag me enough to taste absolute bliss, she returns with more than I expect her to.
She gives me a styrofoam container, topping it with a fork and a napkin.
Aren’t samples supposed to come as little bite-sized offerings? This seems like a bit much.
“Isn’t this piece a little big?” I don’t want to seem ungrateful, but I feel bad. The piece has some weight to it. I don’t want her to get in trouble.
Izzy winks at me, hardly caring. “If you’re sticking around, it’s worth it. Once you try a bite of our pies, you’ll be hooked. We’ll get your business in the future, I’m sure of it.”
My chest tightens at her confidence, and I nod. “I’ll bring more than myself next time.”
My jaw aches from smiling, but I thank her again for what feels like the tenth time before I slip out of the shop. I can’t risk turning off customers by watching a woman get emotional over a slice of pie.
Once I’m out, I crack open the container and get hit with steam that makes my stomach clench and my mouth water.
Taking a look at the pie shop one more time so that I can engrave it in my memory, I take a bite.
Flavor explodes—deep, resonant, and impossibly familiar. It’s the familiar taste of honeycrisp apples, sweetened not just with sugar but with the caramelized depth of something baked with patience. Nutmeg and a hint of allspice bloom on my tongue, followed by the warm embrace of cinnamon that coats my throat as I swallow slowly to appreciate it.
It’s the faintest backnote of bourbon or vanilla—I can’t tell which—that makes it extraordinary, a sophisticated secret in a humble slice. For a moment, I’m not on a cold street; I’m in a sun-drenched kitchen, safe and loved.
The taste is so potent, so perfect, it threatens to undo the composure I just managed to claw back.
Dusty and Eli have to come here if they haven’t already. Whatever it takes, I’ll find the money and buy an entire pie.
Considering devouring the whole slice right then and there, I think about Dusty, about everything he’s done for me so far.
I want him to have some of this bliss.
As hard as it is, I only devour half as I make my way back to the animal clinic.
Once I reach the building, it’s perfect timing. Dusty’s already slipping out from the back, a bag in hand.
He notices me as I step inside, and his body visibly relaxes. Did he think I’d get lost? With how distracted I was with the pie, it’s something that could’ve happened, actually.
Joining me in the lobby, he asks if I’ll be joining him as he does his runs around the town.
“Of course. I want to see the animals.” The words rush out of me like I’m afraid he’ll leave me behind.
