Recipe for Romance

by Olivia Miles

  It was him. She knew it was him. The only other person it could be was Lucy, and Lucy would have called first.

  But what more could he possibly want from her now? Hadn’t he said enough for one day?

  Maybe if she was quiet enough he would think she wasn’t home and go away. Maybe he would turn and walk back down the stairs and climb into that flashy red sports car and speed out of town. Out of her life the way he had twelve years ago. She’d never see him again and eventually...well, eventually she would forget him.

  So why did her heart feel so heavy at the thought?

  Slowly, she stood, listening over the sound of her own shallow breaths. He was still there. Even through the door she could sense his presence. He knocked again. Louder this time. Why was he so determined? Why couldn’t he just let her go?

  Emily set the pie on the stovetop with a thud and untied her apron strings. Inhaling deeply for courage, she walked to the door and opened it. Scott stared back at her. And damn if she didn’t want to just fall into his arms right then and there, go back to that magical place they had been in only the night before. Stay with me forever, he’d said.

  She bit back on her teeth. He had known then. Known when he’d spoken those words. Known that he was lying to her.

  “You’re still here.”

  Scott blinked. “I’m heading out of town tonight, just as you asked.”

  Emily hoped the disappointment wasn’t evident on her face. She tucked the emotion back into place. She was holding on to an illusion, a hope for what could have been. Not what was.

  “But I need to talk to you before I go.” His tone was urgent and quick.

  “I think you’ve said about enough for one day, Scott.”

  “Emily, please. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important.”

  Down the hall, Emily could make out the sound of Julia’s door opening, and she stepped out into the hall, closing the apartment door behind her. “I don’t know why I’m agreeing to this,” she said, folding her arms tightly across her chest.

  “I know why you’re agreeing to it,” he said, and her eyes widened in surprise. “Because you love me, Emily. And I love you. I always have. I—” His voice broke off. “I always will.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. She didn’t need to hear this. She didn’t want to hear this. It was hard enough already. Scott’s admittance had seared open wounds much deeper than his betrayal, of the loss of her first love. Over and over she played out the circumstances of her father’s death; the horrible, pitying look people would give her mother, Julia, her. “You certainly have a strange way of showing it,” she said tightly.

  Scott huffed out a breath. He took a step closer to her. She took a step back.

  “Please—”

  “Don’t deny what we’ve shared these past few days. All these years later, there’s still something between us.”

  Emily struggled to meet his eyes. “Maybe so, but it’s not enough.”

  “Yes, it is. For me, at least. You’re the one, Emily. I let circumstances tear us apart once before, and I’ll be damned if I let it happen again.”

  She looked at him sharply. “What do you mean?”

  “Emily, twelve years ago I was scared. I was shocked. And I was...I was horrified, Emily. For a dozen years I have done nothing but think of you. The guilt has nearly destroyed me.”

  She snorted. Raking her eyes down his fine physique, she quipped, “Could have fooled me.” But even as she spoke, she felt ashamed of herself, uncertain. Julia’s words came rushing back to her, and she thought of that eighteen-year-old boy who had made her a picnic in Central Park and who held her books every day after school. The boy whose blue eyes sparked with each grin, and the way that grin never faded when he was with her. And she thought of how it must have felt to have learned that he had hurt the person he loved so much.

  Because he really had loved her. Once.

  “I just had a long talk with Lucy,” Scott said. His eyes were locked on hers, their intensity so penetrating she wanted to look away, but she couldn’t. “Emily. Emily, it wasn’t me. I wasn’t responsible.”

  She felt the blood drain from her face. “Excuse me?”

  “Lucy was there that day, and no one knew she’d seen what happened, no one ever questioned her. It was— Emily, I’m sorry. She confirmed the story. The events that were officially reported were the true events.”

  She blinked. “You mean the false report your father gave?”

  “No.” Scott dragged out a breath. “My father was trying to protect me, yes. But Lucy saw the entire thing. And my father ordered her to drive me home, so no one knew I was there. Or her. She couldn’t give a statement. She couldn’t report what she’d witnessed.”

  Understanding took hold as she held his gaze, saw the sadness in his eyes, the pain this was causing him.

  “It was human error,” she said softly. “My father’s error.”

  Scott took a step toward her. “I’m sorry, Emily. Lucy’s downstairs, if you want to talk to her.”

  Emily pulled away. She frowned at the floor, trying to process this turn of events. “No. No, if Lucy said that is what she saw, then I believe her.” She met his eyes. “Lucy would never lie to me.”

  “I’m sorry I hurt you. Then. Now. It was the one thing I wanted to avoid. I only ever wanted to protect you. If I thought it would have been better to take the blame myself, I would have left tonight.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “Because I love you, Emily. I always have. I always will. I couldn’t leave town again without making sure that this time I took the risk and told you the truth.”

  Emily bit on her lip, considered his words. When she looked up at him, she saw a shadow of the man she saw that first day he had strolled into the Sweetie Pie Bakery. Gone was the confident prodigal son who had swept into town. In his place was the man who had been burdened with this secret for twelve years. Even now, even when he had been vindicated, he was still turning to her to set him free.

  “I’m not leaving tonight, Emily.” He took another step toward her, and this time she didn’t recoil. “I’m not going to lose you twice in one lifetime.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. “You really mean that? You’re staying in Maple Woods?”

  He nodded. “But I want you to go to that school. I want you to live the life you always wanted.”

  She tipped her head as a slow smile crept over her mouth. “This is the life I always wanted, Scott. You and me. Just the way it should have always been.”

  “But you had so many dreams. I thought I stole them from you once. I won’t be the one to take an opportunity from you now.”

  Emily nodded slowly. “I won’t give up that dream. I do want to go to school, but there are closer options. Before I wanted to run away from Maple Woods and start over. Now, I’m right where I want to be.”

  He grinned ruefully. “I know the feeling.”

  She nodded. “We share a lot, Scott.”

  “Too much to get past?” He cocked a brow.

  She beamed. “Enough to build on.”

  Epilogue

  Emily’s eyes widened as she watched Scott attempt to lift the pie crust off the marble work top. The edges were jagged and there was a definite hole in the center, and she could tell from where she stood at the end of the kitchen island that the dough was much too thick and should have been rolled longer.

  Scott’s forehead was creased in concentration as he arranged the crust over the filling, attempting to stretch it to reach the edges of the plate and inadvertently causing another tear, which he simply pinched back together with his thumb and forefinger.

  Emily laughed; she couldn’t help it.

  “You’re laughing now,” Scott said, glancing in her direction, “but trust me, by the end o
f the night you’ll be saying this is the best pie you’ve ever eaten.”

  She arched a brow. “Oh, will I?”

  “Wait and see,” he teased, sliding the pie plate off the counter and putting it into the hot oven. “You might be the one in culinary school, but this is one recipe you’re never going to forget.”

  “Oh, I have no doubt about that,” Emily said.

  Emily shook her head as Scott stood before the oven, staring through the glass, waiting for the pie to bake. “You’re going to be waiting for a pretty long time,” she said, setting her hands on her hips.

  “What can I say?” he asked, turning around with a suggestive grin. “The best things in life are worth waiting for.”

  She kissed him softly on the mouth, beaming at the compliment, and then commented, “When you said you wanted me to teach you how to make a pie, I didn’t realize I was dealing with such a confident pupil.”

  “You’ve been working hard lately,” Scott said, taking the rag from her hand. He wiped the flour off the counter and took the mixing bowl and wooden spoon to the sink. “Between working here and driving over to Hartford for your classes three times a week, I figured it would be nice for someone else to do the cooking for a change.”

  She tried to hide the skepticism in her expression. From the corner of her eye she could the see the pie filling already oozing through the lumpy crust, hissing as it hit the hot oven rack. She bit back a sigh. She’d have to clean the oven before they left tonight; Lucy wouldn’t appreciate walking into Sweetie Pie in the morning and finding one of her ovens covered with the sticky remnants of Scott’s baking efforts.

  “I do have a bit of homework for tomorrow,” Emily admitted.

  Scott grinned. “Perfect. You do that while I clean up this mess. Trust me, Em. You’re in for the surprise of your life.”

  Emily laughed softly as she glanced at the oven again. Oh, she didn’t have any doubt about that.

  * * *

  An hour later, the buzzer went off and Emily looked up from her notebook just as Scott was pulling his pie from the oven. If he noticed the way the berry filling had exploded onto the top crust, staining it red, he didn’t seem to mind any more than he did about the strange way the crust hung over one edge of the plate and didn’t quite reach the other.

  “What do you think?” he asked, flashing her a smile that lit his eyes.

  “It’s the most beautiful pie I’ve ever seen,” Emily had to say, because in many ways it was. He’d made it with his own two hands, just for her. It didn’t get more perfect than that. “Maybe we should let it cool first,” she suggested, but Scott just waved away her concern.

  “Stay here,” he instructed as he slipped through the kitchen door.

  A moment later he returned, looking considerably less confident than he had only minutes earlier. His blue eyes were a notch brighter, but they studied her with newfound interest, as if gauging her every reaction. She made a mental note to eat every last bite of the pie, no matter what it tasted like. She had experience, after all, from when Julia decided to contribute to meals.

  She crossed the room and took Scott’s hand, noticing the way he gripped hers ever so slightly tighter than usual. He moved slowly, too, as if savoring the moment, and finally pushed open the door with his free hand.

  Emily gasped. Somehow, in the time they had been in the kitchen, Sweetie Pie had been transformed. Hundreds of translucent pink balloons hung from the ceiling, and the entire room glowed from the flickering votive candles lined along the glass display case. A path of pink rose petals led to the only table remaining, with Scott’s pie resting proudly in the center.

  She walked slowly, taking it all in, sliding a shy smile to Scott, who was watching her carefully, eager for her approval. “Lucy helped,” he whispered. “Do you like it?”

  “Like it? This is...” She trailed off, turning to take in the entire room, and then looked up to meet Scott’s nervous grin. He was staring at her with an intensity she hadn’t seen before.

  Her stomach dropped as she realized what was happening. What this all meant. What he had been up to.

  “Emily.” Scott’s voice was low and deep, but never more certain. He reached down and took her other hand in his, throwing her that lopsided grin that made her heart turn over.

  “Oh, my God.” Her pulse was racing, and she could feel the tears welling in her eyes.

  She watched in slow motion as he dropped to one knee and looked up at her, his smile never faltering, his hands warm and strong as they clung to hers. They’d found each other in this room, after twelve long years, and soon she would have the certainty of knowing they would never be apart again. She stared into the eyes of the boy who had held umbrellas over her head on those rainy walks home from school, who had met her with an eager smile on those lazy summer evenings when she could spend hours lying in the cool grass, listening to the smooth sound of his voice, and she saw the man she was going to spend the rest of her life with. And she knew then and there that he was right: that the recipe he had cooked up for her tonight was the best one she could have ever imagined. Lumpy pie and all.

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from A HOUSE FULL OF FORTUNES by Judy Duarte.

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  Chapter One

  “Justin! Get down from there!”

  At the sound of the baritone voice spiked with irritation, Angie Edwards looked up from the cash register, stopped totaling her mother’s grocery purchases and looked across the Superette to see a little red-haired boy high atop the stock clerk’s ladder.

  She was just about to rush over to the child before he fell when she spotted Toby Fortune Jones standing near the bottom rung, waiting for the little imp to climb down.

  Toby, who owned a small ranch just outside of town and volunteered his time as a coach at the YMCA in nearby Vicker’s Corners, had become a foster parent to the three Hemings children last fall.

  Who would have guessed that the hunky rancher had such a paternal side? Just seeing him with those kids each time they came into the Superette gave Angie pause. And it warmed her heart, too.

  What didn’t warm her heart, however, was her mother checking up on her. Again.

  “Don’t forget that you’re always welcome to come stay at my house if you need to,” Angie’s mother said, drawing her back to the task and the conversation at hand.

  Angie loved her mom—she truly did—but there was no way she’d ever consider living with the woman again. There were times she couldn’t get her mom off the telephone or, in this case, through the Superette checkout line fast enough for comfort.

  “That’ll be fourteen dollars and seventeen cents,” Angie said, after she’d finished totaling her mother’s purchases.

  Why would Doris Edwards, who now lived and worked in Lubbock as a real-estate agent, drive all the way into Horseback Hollow to buy fifteen dollars’ worth of groceries?

  To check up on Angie and give her another lecture, no doubt. Thank goodness no one had gotten into line behind her yet.

  “You’re twenty-four and you can’t work at the Superette forever.” Her mo
ther reached into her purse for her wallet. “Not that you’ve worked anywhere longer than a few months, but how are you ever going to make ends meet if you’re only putting in four hours a day? Your rent will be due soon. I hope you have enough money set aside to cover it.”

  She did, but just barely. However, she’d learned early in life that it was best not to share her worries or concerns with her mom. The woman stressed about things entirely too much as it was. And nothing Angie did would ever be good enough for a hardworking powerhouse like Doris Edwards.

  “I’ll be fine. Really.” Angie glanced around the grocery store, hoping the owners—Julia Tierney or her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Tierney—weren’t within earshot. When she saw that they weren’t, she slowly released a sigh of relief. “I knew this was a part-time position when I accepted it.”

  “You put in your application at The Hollows Cantina like I told you to, right?” As Doris pulled out a twenty-dollar bill, Angie nodded her confirmation that she had reluctantly applied.

  “Well, at least that’s something promising. From what I’ve heard, it’s going to be an upscale place to eat.”

  If truth be told, Angie really had no interest in waiting tables. She’d already done that gig and, as much as Angie liked to cook, the restaurant business wasn’t for her. Unfortunately, working part-time at the Superette and filling in as a receptionist at the flight school and charter service barely enabled her to make ends meet. Thank goodness she’d moved recently and had worked out a deal with her new landlord.

  “You realize,” Doris added, “that with the Fortune name behind the cantina, and with Jeanne Marie Fortune Jones being related to royalty and all... Well, you know what that means. People with money will be eating there. So it’ll be a good place for you to network and make some connections. Then again, if it’s a husband you want, your prospects will be better there than here. After all, if you want to catch a big fish, you have to go where they’re swimming.”

  Angie blew out a sigh. Her mother had been pushing her to get the college degree she’d never gotten for herself. And since Angie usually found jobs through friends or through a temp agency in Vicker’s Corners, her mother had decided she lacked the ambition to succeed in life. So Doris had recently started pushing a white-lace and gold-band solution.