Sweet as Pie

by Alicia Hunter Pace

  Able took off his tie, rolled it, and put it in his pocket. “We’re line partners. It’s to my advantage to keep you fed.”

  “We got off to a rough start last night,” Jake said, “and it was my fault.”

  Able shook his head. “Wasn’t anyone’s fault. Like you said, we’re still getting used to each other. Besides, it came together, and I thought we were reading each other pretty well tonight.”

  Jake swallowed his guilt and chased it with a bite of pizza. No, Killjoy. I brought my jealousy and woman trouble onto the ice, like my uncle and every coach I’ve ever had has warned me not to do.

  “By the end of the week, it’ll be like we’ve been playing together forever.”

  “I’m sure it threw you for a loop when Coach put me on first line,” Able said. “It surprised me; that’s for sure. And who knows if by the end of the week I’ll keep my place.”

  “I know and you will. You deserve it.” That was fair. “I think I’m more of a question than you are.” Maybe Able just wanted to talk hockey. “After all, you didn’t have a shit first period last night.”

  “You earned your keep after that. I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

  Jake relaxed and took another piece of pizza. “You want some of this?” he asked. “After all, you bought it.”

  “No, thanks. I had lasagna.”

  Right. His go-to postgame food. Had that debacle of a meal at Hammer Time really only been last night? That had been a lot of miles ago—literally and figuratively.

  Able closed his eyes and took a deep breath and Jake’s stomach knotted. That’s what people did before they were about to say something they were dreading.

  “I wanted to ask you something.”

  And here it comes.

  “Ask away. I’ll tell you if I know.” But would he? How could he say that when he didn’t know what the fuck Killen was going to ask?

  “You’re friends with Evans, aren’t you?”

  That was easy enough, but Able knew the answer, so this wasn’t really the question. It was the pre-question.

  “Yes. Way, way back. Our parents are best friends. We’re a year and a day apart.”

  “I guess you know her pretty well.”

  That was technically a statement, but it required a response.

  “I would say so.”

  “Well, she dumped me.”

  Jake’s hackles went up. “Dumped you? Were you in a relationship for her to dump you from?” He was not going to put up with Killjoy implying that there had been more going on with them than there had been.

  Able closed his eyes again and shook his head. “No, no. Poor choice of words. It would be more correct to say that I asked her out, she accepted, and then canceled. And it wasn’t like she canceled because something else came up. She made it clear that she was not open to being asked again.”

  Jake nodded. It would be hypocritical to say he was sorry, but he had to give some sort of answer. “If you haven’t even been on a date, it’s not like you could have that much at stake. Right?”

  “I guess. But I did like her.”

  “I understand.” He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t stop himself from asking, “What did she say?”

  Able looked at the ceiling and let out a frustrated sound. “I don’t even know. Something about not being emotionally available. Like I know what that means. It sounded like she was reading me a self-help book.”

  “You read a lot of self-help books, do you, Killjoy?” That was the first time Jake had called him that without malice or sarcasm.

  “I have read no self-help books, but I figure that’s what they would sound like. I didn’t understand half of what she said, but I did come away with the bottom line. She’s not interested in me.”

  He couldn’t help it and he wasn’t proud of it, but there was a happy dance going on in Jake’s head.

  “Maybe the bottom line was all you were supposed to understand.” If they had been talking about some random woman or, maybe any woman who wasn’t Evie, Jake would have said something in man-speak about women being impossible to understand. But it was Evie and he was not inclined to lump her in with the rest of womankind like she was some kind of paper doll.

  “Maybe.” Able sighed. He looked miserable, and dread started to niggle at Jake.

  “What was it that you wanted to ask me?”

  “Hell if I know,” Able said. “I guess nothing. I just wondered if you might be able to shed a little light on this.”

  “I really can’t, Able.” That was almost true. Evie had made the decision to cancel the date before he’d gone to her house last night. “I don’t know why she decided not to go with you.”

  Able sat forward in his chair like people did when they were about to leave. Thank God.

  “Thanks anyway. As you said, it wasn’t like anything had gone on between us. I just liked her and I hoped something might.”

  Right there with you, buddy.

  “I guess I just wanted to talk about it to someone who knows her.” He looked more and more miserable.

  “Sorry I couldn’t be more help.”

  “That’s okay.” Able got to his feet and stretched. “Guess I’ll go get some sleep.”

  “I hear you.” Jake walked him to the door.

  “See you in the morning,” Able said.

  “Thanks again for the pizza.”

  Jake leaned his head on the door after closing it behind Able.

  Had he broken the Bro Code? He’d been so sure that Killen was breaking it that he’d never asked himself that question but, now that he had to think about it, the answer might be yes.

  Though unwritten, the Bro Code was pretty clear. Everyone knew the rules and they had evolved for a reason: to maintain team harmony. It boiled down to this: Stay away from your teammates’ women—past, present, and future. That included relatives. A team at odds with each other was not a team that could win.

  Top players had been traded in the wake of trouble that ensued as a result of dating sisters and ex-wives.

  This was hardly comparable, but if there was trouble, it wouldn’t matter that Evie and Able had never even been out. Able had stated his intent, loud and clear from the first moment he laid eyes on her. If Jake turned up holding hands with her at Hammer Time, it would, without a doubt, create disharmony. And not just on their line, between Able and himself—it would affect the whole team.

  If it had been another woman, gray area or not, Jake would have resisted getting involved. But it wasn’t another woman. It was Evie and she was worth it. There was too much at stake.

  Then it hit him like a puck to the helmet. It hadn’t occurred to him that he was breaking the Bro Code because—fair or not, and it wasn’t—he’d always thought of Evie as his.

  Maybe he should have told Able that and let the chips fall. Or maybe not. Hard to know, but it didn’t matter. It was too late now.

  One thing for sure, though. Since he hadn’t told, it had to be kept under wraps. They might be able to have a meal together, but there could be no hand-holding, slow dancing, or any other public displays of affection. The chemistry between them was too strong. The dimmest person on the team would know it in half a second—and that wasn’t Able.

  In a few months, it wouldn’t matter. By then, Able would probably have noticed someone else and, even if he hadn’t, enough time would have passed that he wouldn’t be embarrassed.

  He’d tell Evie tomorrow. She would understand.

  * * *

  “And I’ll hold you, if you’ll let me.”

  That was the last thing Jake had said to her last night and every time Evans thought of it, her stomach went into a tailspin. Every time she’d woken last night—and it had been often—she recalled those words and they took her to a rich, happy place with all the possibilities in the wor
ld. Except sleep; sleep hadn’t been a possibility.

  Finally, she’d just gotten up. That’s why she had already been at Crust for a full hour at 4:30, when she usually came in at five. The blackberries, cherries, and blueberries were macerating for the fruit pies on today’s menu and she was well on her way to finishing all the crusts they’d need for the day. In spite of her lack of sleep, she was full of energy, ready for the day and everything good it would bring.

  Because there wasn’t going to be any bad. She wouldn’t allow it.

  She still couldn’t take it all in. Jake Champagne wanted her—or at least wanted to explore the possibility. Evans had always been good with possibilities. Look what she’d done with a rolling pin and Crust.

  And one of the best things—second only to being with him—he wanted to take her out in front of people where everyone would know they were together. It might be shallow for that to be so important to her, but how could it not be when she’d wanted it so much when she was younger? When she’d so wistfully watched him with other girls? Maybe the heart always remembered what the teenage heart had longed for—and she’d longed so much for him to take her hand when they were eating tamales or put his arm around her at the movies.

  And it was finally going to happen.

  She put the tenth pie crust in the tenth pan and lined them up like little soldiers on the counter. She was about to check the fruits for sweetness when her phone signaled that she had a text.

  Puzzled, she wiped her hands and reached for the phone. No one texted her at this hour. Then she smiled. At least no one used to. Jake.

  Are you at work yet?

  She answered. Affirmative. Making pie.

  Are you too busy to take my call?

  Not if I was about to serve pie to a conclave with the Pope, all the leaders of the free world, and the ghost of Queen Elizabeth I.

  Let me pour a cup of coffee and I’ll call you.

  She settled in at the round table and made the call.

  “You’re out early,” was the first thing he said. He sounded sleepy.

  “Got to earn a living. How about you? What are you doing up this early?”

  “I’m not.” There were some sounds of shifting and she imagined him turning over. “Still in bed.” He yawned.

  It was the yawn that did it. She suddenly wished more than anything that she was there with him—and she wished she had the courage to tell him that. Someday she would.

  “What kinds of pies are you making today?”

  “Right now, blackberry, cherry, and blueberry.”

  “No Mississippi mud?”

  “Not today. Maybe Friday.” She mentally added that to Friday’s list.

  “Hell, yeah!” he said.

  “When do you fly out today?” she asked.

  “Bus leaves for the airport at ten.”

  “You’re awake in plenty of time.”

  “I’ve got some skate shopping to do before I leave.”

  Maybe those skating lessons would be fun, after all.

  “Oh? I would think the team would keep you in skates,” she said, tongue in cheek.

  He laughed. “Good point. Maybe I can shove some old rags in a pair of mine to make them fit you.”

  “I’m sure that would work just great.”

  “Uh, Evie.” His tone changed and her stomach went into a different kind of tailspin—this one not so happy.

  Surely he isn’t calling to say he changed his mind. But he could be. She lined up the evidence that he wasn’t about to say something bad. He called. He’s still talking about ice skates for me. He wants Mississippi mud pie.

  “Yes?”

  “Able came to see me last night.”

  Oh, hell.

  “Brought me a pizza.”

  “That was good of him.”

  “Yeah, well. He’s a good guy.”

  “I know that, but since when do you think it?”

  “Look, I was jealous.”

  She would have taken pleasure in that if she hadn’t felt such trepidation.

  “What did Able want?” she asked. “Beyond delivering pizza?”

  “He wanted to talk about you canceling your date with him.”

  “Was he mad?”

  “No, no. Nothing like that. More confused than anything. A little sad.”

  “I’m sorry about that.”

  “Here’s the thing...” He trailed off.

  And here it came—the bad thing that wasn’t supposed to happen today, and there wasn’t one damn thing she could do about it.

  “Able and I are line partners.”

  “I know that.”

  “Our dynamic is important.”

  Her eyes filled. She would say it before he had to. “And you seeing me could really mess that up. I get it. This is your job. It would be better if we didn’t see each other.” There. It was out. She’d said it and it hadn’t killed her.

  “What?” he exploded. “No, Evie. Hellfire and brimstone, no! That wasn’t what I meant at all.”

  “It wasn’t?” She wiped her eyes. She still might have to cry, but she was going to put it on hold for the moment.

  “No. That would be ridiculous. But we might need to keep it quiet for a while.”

  “What do you mean?” Was he asking her to wait for him? Until when? Next week? Next year? Until he retired from hockey? Well, why not? She’d been waiting all her life, so far. Might as well wait the rest of it.

  “I want us to see each other. Of course I do. I can’t wait to see you.”

  “But?” she asked and braced herself for him to say, “Just not now.”

  But he didn’t. “Let’s just keep that we’re seeing each other between us for a while.”

  From everyone? She hadn’t wanted their mothers to know right now any more than he had, but she’d been looking forward to telling Ava Grace and Hyacinth. But she supposed if Able wasn’t to know, there was no way around it. She trusted her friends. They wouldn’t tell if she asked them not to, but did she really want to tell them it had to be secret? Would that seem like Jake was ashamed to be seen with her, maybe holding out for someone better?

  “Do you still want me to come to the game Friday night?”

  “Yes. Absolutely. I’ll be disappointed if you don’t.”

  This was sounding better.

  “I want to take you out, show you a good time. I just think some of that should wait. It’s not like we can’t go anywhere together or do anything. I just wouldn’t want to embarrass Able.”

  So, no hand-holding, no arm around her in movies, no walking down the street with him and being proud that everyone knew they were together. But that was okay—a little disappointing, sure, but not that bad. Could be far worse—had been far worse.

  “That’s absolutely fine, Jake,” she said. “I understand completely.”

  “Really?” He sounded relieved. “I’m sorry. It won’t be forever.”

  “Don’t give it another thought. I don’t want to hurt Able’s feelings either, any more than I already have.”

  “You’re the best, Evie. You know that, right?”

  “I don’t know about that. But don’t worry. It’ll be fine.”

  And she hoped that was true.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  After arranging the freshly made pies in the display case, Evans made a dozen crusts for the freezer. Then she called Ariel and Quentin back to the marble counter where she’d been working.

  She’d put this off too long.

  “I want you to make some crusts today,” Evans said.

  Quentin frowned. “Are you sure? I know it’s still hot, but there’s a cold front coming in later today. Are you sure you want to do ice box pies, Evans? According to James Spann, fall really is coming to stay today.”

  Of co
urse he would think she meant they were going to make crumb crusts. That’s all she’d ever allowed.

  “We aren’t going to make ice box pies.” She took a deep breath. “I want you to make the crusts for tomorrow—pastry crusts.”

  Ariel, who’d been checking her reflection in the glass door of the convection oven, zoned in and widened her eyes in surprise.

  “Hot damn!” Quentin clapped his hands and looked around like he was going to grab a rolling pin before she changed her mind.

  But she wouldn’t. She didn’t know what was going to happen with Jake tonight beyond his vague “I’ll see you after the game,” but she had no reason to think they wouldn’t finish what they started Saturday night. In her perfect world, they would spend the whole night together. If that happened, maybe she would want to be late for work tomorrow or take off altogether.

  All this had her head spinning, but it had also made her stop and think. She had painted herself into a corner where she couldn’t take off. You couldn’t have pie without crusts and you couldn’t have a pie shop without pie. Tomorrow notwithstanding, what about the future? What if things really did work out with her and Jake? She might want to take time off to be with him or travel to an away game. What if she broke her arm? It could happen, especially if Jake was really going to teach her to ice skate.

  Quentin and Ariel were entirely capable. Probably. And if their crusts weren’t up to her standards, there were some in the freezer.

  She pulled a folded printout from the pocket of her chef’s pants. “Here’s Saturday’s menu.” There was no need to tell them she wanted all-butter crusts for the fruit pies, cream cheese pastry for the honey walnut, coconut oil for the French coconut, and butter/shortening mix for the rest. She’d harped on it enough that it was impossible for it to be lost on them—even Ariel.

  They perused the list.

  “You’re going to let us make the crusts for tomorrow? Quentin and me? Now?” Ariel asked.

  “Yes. Now. Chill them, but wait until morning to blind bake them.”