Recipe for Romance

by Olivia Miles

  It had been a bad idea to come back here. He had known it would be difficult to face his past but he hadn’t realized how quickly the emotions he had tried to bury would bubble to the surface. Well, all the more reason to do his business and then get the hell out. And this time, he wouldn’t be back. Under any circumstances.

  * * *

  The bells above the front door chimed, causing Emily to jump. The cookbook she’d been holding slid to the cool marble kitchen island with a thud. Their first official customer. Nearly an hour had passed since they’d opened, and she’d just managed to relax. Now butterflies danced through her stomach as Emily quickly smoothed her apron and made her way out of the kitchen and into the cheerful storefront.

  “Welcome to Sweetie Pie! What can I—” She halted abruptly, her voice locking in her throat.

  Scott Collins stood before the display case, casually eyeing the selection. His hands were pushed deep into the pockets of his chinos, accentuating his broad chest and well-toned arms. It had been twelve years since she’d seen him, standing in the glow of the summer sunset, waving to her from the base of her peeling front stoop, that lopsided grin tugging at her heart as she turned her back and retreated into the shadows of her old farmhouse—but she had been wrong in thinking she wouldn’t recognize him now. He was just as handsome as he had ever been. Even more so, as luck would have it.

  He lifted his sparkling blue eyes to her now, his lips already curling, causing her heart to flutter in a way she didn’t think it could anymore. His ash-brown hair was cut in a more conservative style than she remembered, and he’d bulked up in all the right places, but one thing hadn’t changed. He still had a smile that could stop traffic. And make her heart skip a beat.

  Twelve years later and he still had this effect on her. Damn him.

  But as his eyes met hers, his expression froze. That irresistible grin faltered.

  “Emily.” His voice was gruff.

  “Scott.” His name felt unnatural on her tongue. “What a surprise.” The understatement of a decade.

  “I didn’t know you worked here,” Scott said. “I mean...I didn’t expect to see you. Lucy hadn’t told me... This, well... It’s nice to see you,” he settled on.

  Emily narrowed her gaze as he stumbled over his words, trying to draw some explanation from him, something that would clarify what had happened all those years ago. What had gone wrong? What had caused him to leave town without a word, without any hint or preparation, to break her heart and all his promises in one fell swoop?

  Her heart squeezed as his turquoise gaze sliced right through her. “I didn’t expect to see you around here again,” she said. When he didn’t respond, she added, “I just started working here, actually.” She brushed aside the twinge of hurt that Lucy hadn’t mentioned it to him. That she meant so little. That she was so forgotten. “Today’s our grand opening, but I’m sure Lucy mentioned that to you.”

  “Is she here?” Scott looked hopefully around the empty room.

  Emily shook her head. “She’s at the diner, but she’ll be back soon. Funny, she didn’t tell me you’d be stopping by.”

  Scott grinned nervously. “She probably didn’t want to jinx it. I don’t exactly have the best track record for homecomings.”

  Emily’s brows inadvertently pinched. She studied him for a long moment, gathering her thoughts, forcing a deep breath to temper her racing pulse.

  “So, how’ve you been?” she asked, bracing herself for the answer. Lucy barely mentioned Scott, and no one else in town kept in touch with him. When Scott left home, he’d severed all ties. With his family, his friends. With her.

  “Good enough,” Scott said with a shrug. He dropped his gaze. He couldn’t even look her in the eye.

  Coward.

  “Where are you living these days?” she tried again, disappointment tugging at her that two people who had once known every inch of each other, who finished each other’s sentences, who shared the same dreams, could be reduced to this sort of awkward conversation. They were strangers now.

  “Seattle,” he replied, and Emily frowned. She knew he had gone to college in Chicago and had just assumed he’d stayed there. But all this time he had been living in Seattle, and for some reason that depressed the hell out of her.

  She paused. “Married? Kids?” she asked, because there was no point in holding back. After all, she’d lost him a long time ago.

  “Nope,” he said, and in spite of herself, Emily felt her shoulders relax. “So you’re still in town,” he observed.

  She gazed at him, disarmed by the incongruity between his sudden reappearance and the nonchalant way he strode into town. Nothing fazed the man—not then and, it would seem, not now. Silence stretched between them; the only sound audible was the pounding of her own heart and God did she hope he couldn’t hear it, too.

  “Yep.” Emily she said tightly. “Never left.” Twelve years after Scott had disappeared from Maple Woods, she was still right where he had left her. Pathetic.

  Scott nodded again, dropping his gaze to the floor as his face reddened, and she knew she had hit a nerve. Well, good! It was about time that Scott gave some sort of reaction for what he had done to her, even if it was a decade or so too late.

  “I always wondered about that,” he said, his voice so low she had to strain to hear. “I always wondered about you,” he said, looking up to properly meet her eyes.

  Emily’s stomach rolled over, but she pushed back the temptation to dwell on his words, to extract more meaning from them than he’d probably intended. She straightened her spine.

  “Well, you could have called. Or written.” She cursed herself for allowing the hurt to creep into her voice. But damn it, she couldn’t help it! His words were empty, falling flat and meaningless. She wondered briefly how many of the other things he had said to her were equally insincere. Most of them, she decided. As much as she hated to realize this, it was just the cold hard truth.

  “I’ve never been good about keeping in touch. No matter how much I wanted to be,” Scott said, frowning. His eyes locked with hers until her pulse skipped and she had to look away.

  He wasn’t here for her. He hadn’t come back for her. That was all that mattered.

  “I’m sure Lucy’s eager to see you,” she blurted. “Half the town is at the diner for lunch. I’m sure they’d be thrilled to see you walk in.” Scott was the high school football star, after all, the kid from the good family with the good looks and “things going for him.” He had always been loved around town. Especially by her.

  “I had hoped to avoid the diner for a while,” he admitted, offering her a rueful grin. “At least until everyone knows I’m back in town.”

  “People do love to talk around here,” she mused as she set a stack of napkins next to the cash register.

  Their gazes locked and she noted the warmth of his smoky blue eyes, and felt nearly sick with humiliation at the pity she saw float through them. She didn’t want his sympathy, or anyone else’s for that matter. She wanted to break free, to start over. To live a life where she could be so many more things than this town had allowed her to be.

  “Too much,” Scott said quickly, and Emily gave him a brief, tight smile. He knew the things people used to say about her family. It hung in the air, in the leaves of the maple trees that lined Main Street. It triggered family dinner conversations and prompted Sunday prayers. It was a name spoken in whisper, with lowered eyes and a shake of the head. Those poor Porters.

  Emily shook herself from the darkening thoughts. “Well, I’ve just put on some fresh coffee and there’s plenty of pie. Feel free to wait here, if you’d like.”

  He hesitated, shifting back on his heels. “Why not?” he suddenly said with a shrug. His eyes softened their hold on hers, causing her pulse to skip a beat.

  “How about a slice of pie?”
she asked nervously, squeezing her fists to keep her hands from shaking. “There’s strawberry and cream, pecan, apple crumb—oh, we have a lovely cherry here,” she offered before she could stop herself. She hadn’t even remembered until now that it was his favorite.

  “You know me well,” he said with a sigh, sliding into a seat at the counter.

  Emily offered him a small smile in return, then, her heart heavy, turned her back to him to plate the pie, paying careful attention in getting the first wedge just right. It was tricky, but she’d learned the knack through practice. Long before her father had died on a construction site when she was just a little girl, Sunday pie had been a ritual in her household, and she still took comfort in his memory every time she pulled one from the oven. No matter how rough the week had been, there was always some reassurance in the time-honored tradition. Pie could bring comfort in a world that could be cruel. It was something to be shared. It brought people together. In the most difficult of circumstances, she liked to think it helped keep them together, too.

  “Here you go,” she said to Scott now. “I made it this morning, so it’s fresh.”

  “You always made the best pies, Emily Porter.” He grinned, and his eyes shone bright on hers until he caught the heat in her expression and looked down at his plate.

  She sucked in a breath. “So,” she said briskly. “What brings you back to town?” It certainly wasn’t her. He’d made a promise—dozens of beautiful, hope-filled promises—and broken each one right along with her heart.

  “My dad asked me to help oversee the construction of the library.” His jaw twitched and he scratched at a day’s worth of stubble. “Well, Lucy asked, actually.”

  “Lucy mentioned once that you were in construction, just like you’d always planned.” She frowned at the thought. Why couldn’t he have stayed in Maple Woods and taken over Collins Construction, the family business? It was a fine company, well respected by the town. Her own father had proudly worked there.

  Scott paused. “My father isn’t up to the job at the moment.”

  Emily nodded. Scott and Lucy’s parents had never been warm to her, but she’d decided a long time ago not to take it personally. Her father had worked for Mr. Collins for more than fifteen years before the accident on the job took his life when she was eight years old. It had been human error, the police had said, his own negligence in failing to put the emergency brakes on the excavator that rolled down the slope and killed him. Mr. Collins had been there that day. He’d dealt with the police, and as a courtesy to the family he had helped cover the funeral expenses, but he had been tense around her family in passing ever since.

  “Sticking around for long?” She held her breath, waiting for an answer she knew deep down wouldn’t make a lick of difference.

  “Only as long as I have to.”

  Emily held his sharp gaze and then lowered her eyes with a slow nod of her head as her heart began to tug. He was still the same old Scott. The same charming guy with dreams beyond Maple Woods. And she was still the same old Emily, still living in the same small town, still waiting for life to really start.

  Well, it was time to do something about that.

  * * *

  Of all the people he had hoped to avoid in this town, Emily was at the top of his list. So he supposed it made sense that she was the first person he ran into. The one girl who had crawled under his skin and remained there. No matter how much he wanted to resist her, to turn his back and leave, he just couldn’t.

  He rested an elbow on the counter, grateful for its barrier. If it wasn’t there, keeping them apart, he wasn’t quite sure he would have been able to refrain himself from greeting her with a hug, to feel the warmth of her body pressed against his, to hold her close and know that she was real and that she was okay. That no matter what had happened, what he had done, that she was all right.

  It wasn’t supposed to be this way with them. They’d had plans—plans he’d intended to stick to—until that horrible summer night, his last night in this town, when his entire world came crashing down around him and Emily was lost to him forever.

  Swallowing hard, he allowed his gaze to roam over her as she repositioned the pie plate on its stand and swept some crumbs off the counter, her glossy chestnut waves cascading over her shoulders. He couldn’t peel his eyes from her. His high school sweetheart—the girl who interrupted his dreams and haunted his waking hours was standing right in front of him, looking more beautiful than ever.

  But time hadn’t changed one thing. Emily was still off-limits.

  “So what have you been up to all this time?” he asked, even though he didn’t want to hear it confirmed. Emily had always had dreams. Dreams beyond this small town. Dreams that hadn’t come true.

  “Oh, not much,” she said. “I worked at the diner before this, but you might have known that.”

  His stomach twisted at her words. Emily was the smartest girl he’d known back in school. She should be running a restaurant of her own, not waiting tables. She should have gone to college, pursued her passions—opportunities she would have had if her father had lived. If his father hadn’t deprived their family of insurance money that was rightfully owed to them as a result of the tragic accident. If Scott hadn’t been on that construction site at all the day that Mr. Porter...

  “No,” he managed. “No, Lucy hadn’t mentioned it.”

  Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly, before she pulled back and leaned against the far counter, crossing her arms over her chest. “Ah, well, I suppose you and Lucy have better things to talk about than some girl you used to know.”

  The hurt in her tone sliced through him, but the pain in her eyes was his true punishment. He’d earned it. He’d deserved it. He’d take it.

  “You were more than some girl, Em.”

  She lifted her eyes to his, holding his stare for a beat, and then shrugged.

  “Well.” He sighed, “I should probably brace myself for the gossip mill.” He gave a tight smile and set his fork on the edge of the empty plate. “If Lucy knew I was already in town and hadn’t come to see her yet, she’d probably never forgive me.”

  “Probably for the best,” Emily said softly. “It looks busy over there today. I won’t be surprised if she’s kept longer than she wants to be.”

  Scott stood and reached into his pocket for his wallet but Emily frowned and held up her hand. “No, please. It’s on the house.”

  “Oh, come on,” he said, frowning. Take the money, Emily. Take what is owed you, what you should have had a long time ago. Take what my family stole from you. “It’s your opening day. I want to help.”

  But Emily was adamant, shaking her head. “Lucy would never forgive me,” she insisted, falling back on his own words, and he knew she had him there.

  “I guess I’ll get going then,” he said, but he didn’t move toward the door. For twelve years he had done nothing but imagine this moment, the things he would say to her if he ever saw her again. But he couldn’t say them. And that was why he had never come back.

  “Bye, Scott,” she said coolly.

  He gave a tight smile. “Bye, Em.” He turned and walked to the door, pushed through it out into the warm glow of the morning sun and crossed the street, focused on the diner in front of him growing nearer with each step, his heart thudding in his chest.

  He knew this feeling. It was the same one he’d had when he’d packed up his bags and gotten into his car that late-summer night twelve years ago after he’d overheard his parents talking about Richard Porter’s death—after he’d found out what he had done, what they had covered up for nine years, only revealing the details once it was too late, once he was already in love with Emily, once he was eighteen and old enough to feel the toll of his actions, however unintentional. He’d sped out of town before he had a chance to look back, to think of what he was leaving behind, his h
eart breaking as he swore he would never love again.

  He didn’t deserve love.

  And he certainly didn’t deserve Emily.

  There was no amount of time or distance that could put Emily Porter behind him. Oh, he’d tried all right. He’d gone to the far end of the country, putting as many miles between him and Maple Woods as possible, only his dark, dirty secret to keep him company and serve as an aching memory of everyone he’d left behind. Of why he could never return.

  He was the reason Emily had grown up without a father. He was the reason she’d been stuck in the mercy of this town and all its limitations, and that wasn’t something he could ever forget. But it was something he would have to set right. Once and for all.

  Chapter Two

  The steady trill of the alarm clock pulled Emily from a deep slumber. She blindly slapped at it and rolled over in bed. The grand opening of Sweetie Pie had kept her at work longer than she’d expected, plus she’d stayed late to prep for today. Poor Lucy had been so busy bouncing from the diner to the bakery that she had barely stopped to take a breath. They hadn’t even had a moment to discuss Scott’s return.

  Scott. At the memory of his startling arrival the day before, Emily’s eyes popped open, and she sprang out of bed. She showered and dressed quickly, quietly, so as not to wake her sister Julia, who rarely emerged from her bed before eight. Tiptoeing through the living room, she paused at the stack of yesterday’s mail piled neatly on the small table just beside the front door. She had been so preoccupied with seeing Scott again that she had failed to check the mailbox on her way home last night. It wasn’t like her, and with a frown she realized the hold he still had over her nearly a dozen years later.

  Recalling his words yesterday, she shook her head and silently scolded herself. She’d been a fool to pin any hopes on that man. There was nothing in Maple Woods for Scott—there never had been, it seemed—and he made it very clear that he wasn’t planning on staying in town for long.