I Only Have Pies for You Read online

  “I hope you brought an empty stomach,” he said as they approached the brick building.

  She patted her belly playfully. “I had a light lunch to prepare.”

  Stepping through the front doors, they were greeted with the insanely mouth-watering aroma of food. Walking down the hall and into one of the side doors, she was impressed by the crowded room. Nearly all of the space was taken up with local businesses. Signs and banners above the tables proudly displayed the names and slogans of local shops. The established dates were slightly intimidating. Some of them dated back to the sixties and fifties. Family businesses.

  “Should we go savory or sweet?” Alaric asked.

  “Savory first.”

  “Saving the best for last. Good idea.”

  “Al?” The hopeful words turned them both around. “That is you.” The slender brunette with bright eyes beamed at them.

  Who’s this?

  “Hi, Kasey.” His flat tone and her name explained his lackluster response.

  “Who’s your friend?” Kasey narrowed her gaze. Rosaleen didn’t miss the frost to her tone.

  Oh yeah, she still has it bad.

  “Kasey, this is Rosaleen. She’s opening the bakery on the corner of Main street. Rosaleen, this is Kasey, an old friend.”

  “The cute one with the heart around the entrance?” Kasey asked, warming up.

  “That’s the one.” Rosaleen held out her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Kasey.”

  “Nice to meet you, too. I can’t wait to visit your place once it opens. It looks adorable. It’s so like you to show a new neighbor around, Al.”

  “What are you doing here? Helping out the family?” Alaric asked, hooking his thumbs through his belt loop.

  “You know it. Mom and Dad put me to work at the booth. We own the local butcher shop,” Kasey explained.

  “Oh, that’s incredible.”

  “We’ve been at it since the 40’s when my great grandfather first opened it,” Kasey said proudly. “Speaking of family, I’d better get back. My mom has a pair of eagle eyes.” She shook her head. “It was nice meeting you, Rosaleen. Hopefully, I’ll see you guys again before you leave.”

  “Nice meeting you, too, Kasey,” Rosaleen replied politely.

  Watching as the crowd swallowed her, she turned to Alaric. “Yeah, she’s still very into you. If looks could kill, I would have died where I stood when she first saw us together.”

  “Sorry about that.”

  “It’s not your fault. Besides, she figured out we’re just friends, so I won’t be too worried about her making a voodoo doll.”

  “Stop.”

  Laughing, she nudged him with her shoulder. “You owe me food, Mr. Bulley.”

  “That I do. Come on. There’s some BBQ with our name on it.”

  ALARIC

  He couldn’t take his eyes off Rosaleen as she savored the fresh cannoli from Salvatore’s. The local Italian eatery had been in business for over twenty-five years and did everything from scratch. Her eyes were closed, and her face was aglow with pleasure. If she responds like this to food, how would she respond to other stimulation? His core temperature crept up, and he looked away, thinking about taxes to keep from embarrassing himself with a hard-on. The woman had an inherent sensuality about her.

  She opened her eyes and swallowed. “What?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a person enjoy cannoli more.”

  Her forehead creased and her thick, black brows dipped toward the center of her forehead. “Have you had one of this? Cannoli are not easy to nail, and these little bites of mana are the best I’ve ever had the pleasure of partaking in.”

  “Oh, we’re on biblical terms now?” He chuckled.

  Scowling, she took one of the chocolate chip laden pastries from her container and pressed it to his lips. “I dare you to deny it.”

  Opening his mouth, he took a bite. The sweet mascarpone cheese mixture melted on his tongue along with the light crumbly shell. Blending together, they created an ethereal experience in his mouth. He moaned. It’d been too long since he visited Salvatore’s.

  “Mmm-hmm.” Rosaleen nodded. “I will never make these in my shop now because I know. I can’t do this justice.” She popped the rest of the pastry in her mouth. “I only shared to prove a point. I’m pretty protective of my sweets.”

  “You got a real sweet tooth. It turns you vicious when it’s denied, huh?”

  “How can I be a pastry chef without being a connoisseur of sweets?”

  “Hey, you don’t have to defend your vice to me, sugar.”

  She rolled her eyes. “That is the best nickname you can come up with, hero?”

  “I think it’s fitting.” His eyes focused on her plump, dark pink lips. Will she taste as sweet as the pastries she baked and consumed with zeal?

  “I am who I am. Take it or leave it.”

  Don’t tempt me, woman. “Let’s see what else we can get to appease your craving for sweets.” He winked. Scoffing, she couldn’t hide the smile that followed. It did funny things to his guts. This woman had appeared out of nowhere and jumpstarted his libido, intoxicating him.

  “What about you, hero?” She nodded her head toward him. “What do you crave other than snickerdoodles?”

  You.

  “I’m partial to fall flavors ... cinnamon, pumpkin spice, and apple. I’m easy.”

  “Somehow, I doubt that.” She shook her head.

  “Are you insinuating I might be difficult?” He mocked offense.

  She eyed him shrewdly. “Maybe. The jury is still out for now.”

  He whistled. “Anyone ever tell you you’re tough on the ego?”

  Tossing her head back, she laughed. “I might’ve heard it a time or two. It’s good for you. Builds character.”

  “She says as she ribs me.”

  “You’re welcome to give it back. I assure you I can take it.”

  He stepped closer. Their arms brushed. The muscles in his stomach flexed. Does she feel the energy flowing between us?

  A toddler came out of nowhere. She stopped abruptly, falling back as her imbalance threw her off. Catching her, he pulled her body against his to save them both. Her dilated eyes and the smoldering expression in them had him smothering a moan. Locked in a stare, the world around them faded. Her curves were lush and soft against him. His pants grew too tight.

  “I am so sorry.” The frantic mother grasping the toddler’s wrist apologized, breaking the haze that settled over him.

  “It’s okay,” Rosaleen said breathlessly.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah. I’m fine.” She nodded.

  Licking his lips, he released her and stepped back. She turned to the embarrassed mother. “These things happen. I’m sure we all made a run for it when we were his age. No one was hurt. Please don’t give it another thought.”

  Watching her assure the young mother showed how kind she was. There has to be a catch. Did she turn hideous at midnight or have a hidden mean streak? Time and experience had taught him to mistrust anything that appeared too good to be true. Right now, Rosaleen was looking like an angel. He didn’t trust it. He couldn’t afford to. At thirty-five, he wasn’t getting any younger, and getting locked into a relationship that went nowhere wasn’t on his agenda. He longed for a meaningful relationship that led to more.

  Being single was lonely. He kept himself busy, but he constantly felt like a piece of a puzzle was missing. With his career in line, he’d begun to look for the missing fulfillment in his personal life and more. Friends, hobbies, and family hadn’t filled the hole that existed inside of his heart. Thinking that the woman beside him might be that missing piece could prove foolish. Still, he refused to risk letting her go before he found out for certain. Trusting his gut had gotten him this far. He wouldn’t deny it now.

  Chapter Three

  Rosaleen

  Suddenly, there was a knock. Glancing down at her smartwatch, she gri
nned. Right on time as usual, hero. Setting the warm tray of cinnamon rolls on the marble counter to cool before she glazed them, she removed her oven mitts and walked to the back. She opened the door, waving him inside. Stepping into her space, he paused as they both smiled up at one another. They’d yet to cross the line from friends to more, but she could feel it coming.

  “Hi,” she said breathlessly.

  “Hello.”

  She licked her lips nervously, and his eyes followed the motion. Clearing his throat, he inhaled deeply and closed his eyes. “My God. What smells so good?”

  “Come and see. I’ve been busy.” Grabbing his hand, she pulled him into the back. After hanging out a few times a week for the past month, they’d fallen into a comfortable rhythm with one another.

  His blue eyes widened as he took in the elaborate spread. “Are you baking for an army?”

  She shook her head. “No, for Connor and Caden.”

  He frowned. “Do I need to be worried?” He tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “’Cause I thought we had an unspoken agreement.”

  Her breath hitched. “What sort of agreement is that?”

  “That whatever you and I are doing is between us.” Cupping the back of her neck, he pulled her closer. “Exclusively.”

  “Is that what we’re doing?” she whispered.

  “Yeah, sugar, that’s what we’re doing.” His thumb brushed the hair on the back of her neck as he began a soothing motion, and she found herself sinking into the endless blue pool of his eyes.

  “You never said, so I didn’t want to assume.”

  “I always found actions spoke much louder.” Bending forward, he kept their gaze connected as he brought his lips down to hers. Sighing as their mouths connected, she let her eyes flutter shut as her body sang. Sparks flickered to life in her belly, and her breasts swelled. Pressing herself against his hard chest, she whimpered as he tilted his head and slid his tongue inside of her welcoming mouth. All the nights that ended with a good-bye hug had brought them to this moment. Hero was worth the wait. Tangling her tongue with his, she soaked up the minty fresh flavor blended with the unique taste that was Alaric alone. Bringing her arms up to wrap around his neck, she surrendered to her desires.

  Lungs screaming for air, she pulled away, breathing heavily. He rested his forehead against hers, and they took a moment to bask in the crossover from friends to something more.

  “Well, the boys are six and eight. So, I think you’ll be okay. I’m doing a sampler for Stephanie’s boys. The rest they’ll take to school for a party they’re having tomorrow.”

  He smiled at her. Stroking the side of her neck with his thumb, he peered down at her. “We doing this?”

  “Yeah, I think we are.”

  He kissed her forehead. “Good. Because I enjoy spending time with you. But what I’m after is much more than friendship. I’m not looking for casual dating. Are you ready for that with me?”

  She nodded, unable to stop the grin from pulling back her lips. He turned his head to look at the spread. “Those kids are about to be the class favorites for the rest of the year.” His wistful tone made her laugh.

  “Don’t worry. I’m going to let you have a cut of it.”

  The little boy grin he flashed turned her stomach into a butterfly sanctuary. Her attraction to him only grew with time as he continued to be exactly who he presented himself to be.

  “I’m lucky I managed to snag Stephanie. A classically trained pastry cook is not easy to come by. With her wanting to come back to work since her kids are settled into school, it was kismet.” Leaning back against him, she soaked up his closeness. His arms were every bit as comforting as she imagined.

  “I’m glad things have worked out so well.”

  “She’s amazing. We’re on the same wavelength, and she’s a quick learner. Once she has all the recipes down, I’ll feel completely comfortable leaving her alone with Stella and Grace for pre-opening.” She’d hired the two college girls looking for full-time, flexible hours.

  He squeezed her waist. “I told you things would work out.”

  “You did.”

  His lips caressed the sensitive skin beneath her ear. Shuddering, she tilted her head to give him better access.

  A bell sounded, and she jumped as the pink macaroon rattled on the table. “Oh, it’s time to frost the cinnamon rolls.”

  “I don’t know if I was saved by the bell or thwarted,” Alaric muttered.

  Walking over to the sink, she washed her hands and placed the glaze she’d created earlier in the microwave for a few seconds. Finding the thinner but not runny consistency to be perfect, she moved over to the tray and began to coat them.

  “I love getting to look behind the curtain at the wizard.” He came to stand behind her, peering over her shoulder as she worked.

  “You were that kid who sat on the counter while your mother baked and then got to lick all the bowls and beaters, weren’t you?”

  “I was. Perks of being an only child, as you well know.”

  “I do.” The sight of the thick, white frosting melting just so over the warm rolls as the strong scent of vanilla and cinnamon wafted up toward her turned her insides into goo. Baking was more than a job. It was an expression of feelings. She poured her heart and soul into her dishes, hoping to spread a little goodness out into the world. Lord knows it needed it. Grabbing her knife, she swirled the frosting in a circular pattern, adding an extra touch.

  “If you’re this intense for kids, I can only imagine you in the kitchen for your shop.”

  “I treat everything I’m baking the same here. I want every person who eats from my shop to feel the love that went into creating.”

  “Who taught you how to cook?”

  “The college?”

  “No. Who instilled this philosophy of love through food?”

  “No one person really. It’s a family thing. Recipes are handed down, taught from mother to daughter, and meals are at the table. We all gather for holidays and birthdays, and favorite meals are made. I have a lot of amazing memories cooking in the kitchen with my grandma and my mom. I think it’s a cultural thing. We’re from the deep south originally, and I find a lot of African Americans have that connection to food. Much like many Hispanic families I know.”

  “I’m no chef, but I have that same feeling about certain dishes I grew up with, so I can understand it on a smaller level. I think it’s incredible you feel so strongly about it.”

  “Hey.” She nudged him with her hip. “You do, too ... about your carvings and furniture.”

  “The wood speaks to me, and I want to invoke emotions from others when they see it, but I can’t always tell you what that feeling I want to convey is.”

  “Because you leave it up to them to decide. I’ve watched you with your customers. You never tell them how to feel or what you felt when you created it.”

  “You caught on to that, huh?”

  “I did. It is intentional?”

  “I guess, I feel like that’s private, and I don’t want my thoughts to overtake theirs. Once they purchase it and take it home, it belongs to them. If I’m too attached, I can’t sell it.” He grimaced. “I learned that the hard way.”

  “Are you telling me you didn’t intend to furnish your home with pieces you made?”

  “Hush.”

  Finishing her cinnamon rolls off, she set them aside. “Okay. Ready for lunch?”

  “I can eat.”

  “You’re a bottomless pit. I don’t know how you stay so fit.”

  “Lots of time in the gym. It also helps that my job is labor-intensive. Moving lumber, sanding down wood, and getting things together.”

  Walking up the back stairs to her apartment, she studied his face as they entered the kitchen and he saw the breakfast nook. The white bench against the wall and two chairs on the opposite side surrounded a white table set up with an impressive arrangement. Two wooden trays with black and white checkered napkins and a floral plate with gold s
ilverware to the left and a glass goblet with gold trim to the right full of water contrasted with the gold and white table runner she’d placed the platters on. Small finger sandwiches made with ham, turkey, and roast beef were piled in the center on a gold charger.

  On the outside of the mountain of lunchmeat sandwiches was two black bowls with mayonnaise and brown spicy mustard. Two three-tiered serving trays sat to the left and right of the sandwiches. One lined with snickerdoodles, tiny cinnamon rolls, and an assortment of cupcakes; the other solely dedicated to all things pumpkin spice. He turned his head toward her.

  “When did you have the time?”

  “Something I whipped up last night and this morning. These are the ones I think will be top sellers in this area. And these,” she motioned toward the left tier, “are my pumpkin spice is life recipes.”

  “I don’t even know where to start.”

  “How about with actual food, so I don’t feel guilty for pumping you full of sugar.”

  “Deal.” He pulled a seat out for her and slid onto the bench across from her. Reaching over the edge of the table, he gave her hand a squeeze. “Thank you for this.”

  “I wanted to let you know how much our time has meant. Meeting you has changed my life for the better. Opening up the bakery has been my dream for so long, I never thought too far beyond that. Then you showed up and gave me a little food for thought.”

  “You did the same thing for me. I’ve been stuck in a bit of a rut outside of work. You breathed fresh life into my routine and helped me see the town I was born and raised in with new appreciation.” Lifting her hand, he kissed the back of it. His eyes darkened to a shade of cornflower blue, and she inhaled. Tiny bumps broke out over her arm and electricity passed between them. He released her hand and grabbed a sandwich. Exhaling, she took a sip of her water, working on calming her hormones. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her she hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and she reached over to fix herself a few ham and mayonnaise sandwiches. An enjoyable silence swept through the room as they ate.

  “Okay, I’m ready for dessert now.” He rubbed his hands together, and she laughed.