I Only Have Pies for You

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places, businesses and incidents are from the author’s imagination, or they are used fictitiously and are definitely fictionalized. Any trademarks or pictures herein are not authorized by the trademark owners and do not in any way mean the work is sponsored by or associated with the trademark owners.

  No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form (electronic or print) without permission from the author. Please do not participate in piracy or violating the author’s rights.

  Cover Artist: Dreams2Media

  Editing: There For you Editing

  ©Shyla Colt, 2019

  Once big-city pastry chef Rosaleen Plath saw the corner lot for sale in Granville, Ohio, she knew she’d found the site of her future bakery. Desperate for a change of pace, she took the plunge and relocated to the small, New England style town. With the locals slow to warm up to newcomers, For Cake’s Sake is dead in the water. However, when she finds out about the annual Pumpkin Queen baking competition, she sees a golden opportunity to break the ice.

  Master carpenter and only child Alaric Bulley is pulled into his mother’s world of pies and baked goods when she breaks her foot a few weeks before the Pumpkin Queen competition. As reigning champion, she’s determined to keep the trophy in the family. Barking orders like a drill sergeant, she whips him into shape as she directs him in the kitchen.

  When he realizes his top competition is the woman he’s falling in love with, things get complicated. Can they get over this hurdle, or is it a recipe for disaster?

  Playlist

  Look How God Gave Her: Thomas Rhett

  Sucker: Jonas Brothers

  Something Just Like This: Chain Smokers & Cold Play

  I Only Have Pies For You

  Shyla Colt

  Chapter One

  Rosaleen

  Rosaleen Plath admired the pale pink building she’d dreamt of daily since she went to culinary school twelve years prior. Learning the ropes, biting her tongue, and running the show for others was all par for the course. One didn’t come straight out of school and get their own shop unless they came from money. Her family was the furthest one could get from wealthy. Hell, she was the first in her family to attend college. From the second she latched onto a career goal she’d been in uncharted territory.

  Every step on her journey toward her dreams had been breaking new ground for the Plaths. There were times she questioned her ambitiousness. At thirty-three, every student loan payment, cheap meal, and long work week proved to be worth it to achieve this moment. Look, Mom, I made it. Her mother had been with her every step of the way, her own personal cheerleader. She’d never thought where you came from should dictate where you would go. She had plans to bring her out for the grand opening.

  Currently, though, she resided alone above the shop in her two-bedroom dwelling. Making the place her new home had helped stave off the loneliness somewhat. Being new never got any easier. In a lot of ways, moving still felt like walking in front of the class in your finest outfit, hoping they’d give you a chance before they decided you weren’t cool enough to play with.

  It might be too early to tell what the jury here in Granville thought about her, but her mind felt like they were leaning toward playing her in the loser category. No negative thoughts today, Plath. You worked too hard to sour this day with that. Shaking off the bad vibes, she stepped back and admired the pink awning that would shield the two white wrought iron tables with matching chairs that had heart-shaped backs. It never hurt to add an Instagram worthy feature or a way to romance your significant other.

  A faux heart-shaped garland comprised of artificial pink roses framed the door, inviting her customers to come in and step out of reality. For Cake’s Sake was written in pink on the wooden sign shaped like a shield that protruded from the building. She ran her finger over the gold cursive letters on the large display window. The inside of the shop was bare except for the circular formic tables with their pale pink seats with a white stripe.

  White subway tile lined the wall behind the counter. Sturdy glass display cases sat vacant, waiting to be filled with her creations. On top of them, brightly pastel-colored cake stands with domed glass added pops of color. Excitement rose in her chest. This is all mine. Unlocking the front door, she moved inside and inhaled the scent of her own place. Spinning in a circle, she allowed the giggle to escape her throat. This was what she’d longed for. Busy life in the city had led her to feel hollow, overworked, and lost. While her bank account had been cushy, her soul had wept. Relocating here was a risk she needed to take.

  Moving to the back closet, she began to pull out her large, black plastic tubs. It was August, and she had a month to get this place ready to launch on September first. Fall was her favorite season, and she planned on having the best window display on the strip. It couldn’t hurt to draw people in. Small towns were notorious for freezing out the newcomers. So, she’d pull out all the stops to integrate herself into the community. Carefully laying out the fall leaves, she broke up the red and browns with bright sunflowers and pumpkins. Bright orange harvest baskets filled with deliciously ripe red apples balanced the rest of the scene.

  “There’s the treat. Now, it’s time for the trick.” She wanted to capture the attention of adults and children alike. Which meant fall harvest and something a bit spooky. Sticking spiders on webs strategically toward the bottom of the window, she worked her way up to the top where she added cut out bats to create a full scene. Pleased with her placements, she moved to grab the ladder from the back; setting it up onto the platform, she wrestled with the four-foot full moon that plugged in.

  Lugging the bulky contraption up the ladder, she eyeballed the hook in the top left-hand corner. As she leaned in slightly, she clutched the top of the ladder, feeling off-balance. Huffing, she pulled back when a tapping on the window drew her attention outside.

  A brunette man with light blue eyes, and a beard that framed full, pink lips pulled back to reveal a heart-stopping smile gestured at her. His thick brows arched up as he pointed to the moon and himself. She shook her head, not understanding his message. A slightly upturned Roman nose added to the rugged appeal he gave off in tight-fitting jeans and an olive-green T-shirt.

  Lowering the light, she climbed down, walked to the door, and opened it.

  “Hi. I couldn’t help but think you might need a little help there.” He shoved his hands in his pockets.

  Is this what it means to be a member of a small town?

  “I’m Alaric Bulley, the local handyman, and woodcarver. I have a shop about three stores down that way.”

  “Just the Saw?” she asked.

  “You noticed it?” He inclined his head, and his grin grew impossibly wider.

  “I did do a little research before I rented this space. “

  “Yeah. I guess you would.” He laughed. “I meant to meet the new owner, but this is the first time I’ve seen someone who wasn’t an installer.”

  “Well, you’ve succeeded. I’m Rosaleen Plath.”

  “Allow me to welcome you to Granville, Ms. Plath.” He held out his hand, and she shook it. Calloused from his trade, it made her feel every inch of her five-foot-seven height. His shake was firm, but not overpowering.

  They sure can grow them out here in the country.

  “Please, call me Rosaleen.”

  “And I’m Alaric. Mr. Bulley is still my father.”

  “So, you’re from here?”

  “Born and raised.” He nodded. Alaric was the first person who’d welcomed her so warmly. “How about I lend you a neighborly hand, and hold the ladder steady so you can hang that light?” He gestured toward the display.

&
nbsp; “If you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all.” He said kindly.

  “Well come in. Don’t judge the emptiness. I’m just getting settled in.”

  He shook his head, sending the dark brown locks tumbling across his forehead. “I would never. I remember how much work it was to open my store down here.”

  “How long have you been in your spot?”

  “About five years now. I used to work on a commission-based system while I held down a full-time job building houses.”

  “I understand paying dues. This is the first time I’m getting to be the queen of my own kingdom.” She climbed the ladder carefully.

  “You’re not from around here. What brought you to a tiny town like Granville?”

  “I was burned out from the culinary scene in Cincinnati. I was looking for the right place to open up a bakery of my own, and by chance, I took a few days off here and saw this place up for rent. And I knew.” She shrugged.

  “That takes a lot of courage.” He handed her the light.

  “Some would say stupidity.”

  “Only those who’re too scared to step out on a limb themselves.” His intelligent insight said a lot about him.

  Glancing away, she hid her smile. “Maybe so.” She hooked the wire leading out of the moon, then leaned back to see how it looked. “That went a lot faster with you here.”

  “I live to serve?”

  “A hero type?”

  His brows came together. “And here I thought I was neighborly. If this is a heroic effort, things in the big city are mighty different.”

  “People tend to mind their own business and turn a blind eye.”

  “Well, I can promise you, it’s nothing like that here.”

  “I don’t know. You’re the first person who welcomed me with open arms.”

  “It takes folks around here a minute to warm up to newcomers. Hang in there.” He winked.

  “Why not you?”

  He leaned back and smiled. “Because I’m less traditional and open-minded.”

  Is he flirting with me? Have I been in the city so long I’m mistaken kindness for more than it is?

  “I hate to hear your introduction to our town has been less than satisfactory. How about I make it up to you?”

  “What do you have in mind, hero?”

  “Well, my congregation at St. James, a local catholic church, is having it’s an annual festival. It’d be a great time to meet some of the community, especially the makers and crafters. Many of them have booths.”

  She bit the inside of her cheek. The apartment above the shop was getting lonely. She didn’t know anyone locally, and despite her enthusiasm for the shop, she longed for a bit of human interaction.

  “Careful, you might find yourself on the wrong side of the town’s people making nice with the newbie.”

  “I’m willing to take the chance.” He leaned against the ladder, and she took a seat on the top. He was tempting with his cerulean eyes, easy smile, and charm.

  What could it hurt?

  “What time were you thinking, hero?”

  “Eight o’clock? I could pick up here if you’re comfortable with it.”

  She gave him a slow once over. “You seem like the honest type to me. I figure I’m safe enough. I mean, you’re a hero after all.”

  “You’re not going to let that go, huh?” he asked bashfully.

  She shook her head. “Not a chance.”

  “Give me time. I’ll return the favor with a nickname for you, snickerdoodle.” She wrinkled her nose. “Yeah, I know that was really bad. That’s my favorite cookie, and it popped into my head.”

  Good to know. She’d be baking him cookies as thank you for his offer of friendship and help today.

  “I’m glad you saw me in the window and stopped by,” she admitted.

  “Me too. Had I known the owner was so lovely, I would’ve made sure our meeting happened sooner.”

  Blowing a few stray curls out of her face, she thought of her rolled-up, worn blue jeans and threadbare Cincinnati Reds shirts.

  She wagged her finger at him. “You, sir, are a charmer.”

  “In this case, I’m simply speaking the truth.”

  That was definitely flirting.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Reluctantly, he stepped away from the ladder. “I came out to get a bit of air, but the boys will be wondering where I am now. I imagine I should get back to work. Even the boss has to pull his own weight.”

  “Me too. Thank you again for stopping by.” He held the ladder steady as she climbed down. There was something incredibly gentlemanly about his mannerisms. It drew her like a moth to a flame after a long bout in the darkness. To say her dating life had entered the drought stage would be a gross understatement. She hadn’t had the time or the inclination. Work took up most of her time, and the men she did meet weren’t interested in more than a casual bed partner.

  She wanted more, so she refused to settle. The motto had gotten her this far. She wouldn’t stop using it now. Is it a mistake, even thinking of dating a local business owner? He’s got to be an eligible bachelor. It’ll give them even more of a reason to dislike me.

  “It was my pleasure. So, I’ll see you at eight?” The slight air of uncertainty that crept into his voice made up her mind.

  A man like this doesn’t come around every day. To hell with them. I owe it to myself to see if he is who he appears to be. “Yes, I live above the shop,” she replied.

  “Alright, then. ’Til tonight.”

  They climbed down off the platform, and she saw him to the door, watching as he walked away with a small wave. Could things be starting to look up finally?

  ALARIC

  I can’t believe I actually have a date. It’d been forever and a day since he took a woman out. In a town this small, being seen out and about with someone was kin to setting a date to walk down the aisle in the future at his age. With Rosaleen, he didn’t feel that pressure. She intrigued him. A woman who could move away from everything she knew and chase down her dream was one he needed to know better. Her humor, openness, and yes, her beauty added to her mystery.

  Her heart-shaped face, thick curls, and those large, brown eyes called to him. Smooth sienna skin covered her petite frame. Despite her small stature, he had a feeling she was a serious powerhouse. She’d dished back everything he’d given with a sly smirk. Rosaleen Plath was certainly worth setting tongues wagging. He’d been waiting to find a woman who piqued his interested. For too long, it’d been work, the gym, and hanging with his friends. It hadn’t escaped his attention that he’s one of the few not married at thirty-five.

  He was open to marriage. A family was high on his to-do list, but only if he could have what his parents did. A true partnership. They complemented one another. His father’s weak points were his mother’s strengths and vice versa. They had their fights, but it was always clear neither were headed anywhere else. He’d never felt that kind of deep bond with anyone else. Not even Kasey, who he dated for three years. It got to the point where he had to cut the cord or propose. It hurt, but not as much as an empty marriage would.

  Staring at himself in the mirror, he combed his hair back out of his face. Nerves had struck. She wasn’t a small-town girl. Born in a bigger city and used to a faster pace, she might find him as dull as a doorknob. He’d done an apprenticeship in lieu of college, and he didn’t pay too much attention to celebrities. What if we don’t have a damn thing in common? Exchanging a few quick-witted lines wasn’t the same as entertaining her the entire night. He hadn’t been this nervous about a date since he was in high school. Woman’s already making me sweat. He smiled. Damned if I don’t like it.

  Turning from the mirror, he moved to pick out his outfit. Men worried about the impressions they made, too. He didn’t want to look as if he was trying too hard. After pitching tonight as a welcoming committee, he’d have to feel her out before he assumed she was interested in him. He opted for a pai
r of newer jeans, a white T-shirt, and a light blue plaid he knew brought out his eyes. A splash of Cool Water later, he was out the door of his four-bedroom, two-bathroom ranch style home. Climbing into his gray SUV, he scanned the seats and console for miscellaneous debris. He’d taken it by the local car wash to vacuum it out before he came home, and even splurged on a new car scented air freshener.

  Making the twenty-minute drive, he cranked up Thomas Rhett. Once he arrived at her home, he parked in the back and walked to the backdoor. Knocking, he waited for her to come down. Her off-the-shoulder maroon and black striped shirt with a ruffle contrasted with the black jeans hugging her curves. Her curly hair tumbled around her shoulders, framing her face. Kohl-lined lids brought out the rich brown hue of her eyes.

  “Well aren’t you as pretty as a picture.”

  “Coming from anyone else, hero, that’d be corny.”

  “Just calling them like I see ’em.” He winked. “Are you ready?”

  “I am.” She stepped outside, then locked the door, and he offered his arm. Her muscles flexed as she slipped her am through his. Subtly, he admired her long neck and shapely collarbone. If she partook of the goodies she baked, she was working them off in her downtime, ’cause sugar had never done a body that good.

  Inside of the car, he drummed up a conversation.

  “When do you plan to open up shop?” he asked as he pulled out of the parking lot.

  “September first. The advertising will start circulating later this week.”

  “I’ll keep my eyes peeled for them. Any particular music request?” he asked, eager to learn more about her.

  “I listen to a little bit of everything.”

  We have that much in common.

  Turning on the playlist on his iPod, he hummed along to Panic at the Disco, shocked when she sang along.

  “You like Panic?” he asked.

  “Oh yeah, they’re one of my favorites. I saw them so many times when I was in college.”

  “Me too. I’d kill to see them now. This album has been fantastic.”