Sweet as Pie by Alicia Hunter Pace
Chapter Eleven
Evie answered the door wearing knee-length khaki shorts and a long-sleeved navy blue T-shirt. Something about her face was different, but he couldn’t tell what—didn’t care.
“You look good, Evie.”
“I do?” She brushed her finger against the corner of her eye. “Thank you.”
She had put some little pumpkins and leaves on her mantel beside that pottery. “You’ve decorated for fall.”
She nodded. “Yeah. Mama sent those things. I thought I’d better put them out before she gets here. How was practice today?”
“I’ve had worse. I’ve had better. Everybody’s tired. Most are out of shape because they were lazy over the summer.”
“How about you?” She sat on the edge of one of the chairs that flanked the fireplace, crossed her legs, and began to bounce her topsider-clad foot up and down. She’d always done that. Her daddy once said if she’d been on a bicycle, she’d be to state line in an hour. “Were you lazy over the summer?”
“I could have been better if I hadn’t—” He plopped down on the couch and, all of a sudden, the television blared way louder than was healthy for the human ear and there was his face—bigger than life, swigging fancy water with that dopey music in the background. “How?” He jumped like a jack-in-the-box and shook his head like a wet dog trying to get dry. “What the fuck?” He said one of those words he didn’t usually say in front of women, but his brain and ears were on fire.
Evie made a sound not unlike a dying animal as she lunged toward him, her mouth agape, eyes blazing.
“No! I just have to—” And she was on her knees in front of him, one hand on his bare thigh, the other digging beneath the cushion under his butt.
“Evie, what the hell?” He could feel her searching around under him while Endorsement Jake was talking about how he knew all about sparkling.
“Raise up!” she demanded.
The words did not compute. Raise up what? Himself? And if so, to where? If he got up, he’d knock her over into the coffee table, where she would hit her head and probably die.
“Hellfire and brimstone! What’s going on here?” He raised his voice to drown out his television self, who was waxing eloquent about that ridiculous water.
“Never mind.” She pulled her arm out from under him and came up with a remote, which she pointed at the TV, and—after several stabs and a bit of cursing under her breath—made Endorsement Jake go away.
She stared at him looking for all the world like a not very bright mouth breather.
“Sorry,” she finally said.
“What the hell?” As the shock of the whole thing dissipated, Jake became aware of her hand—still on his thigh. In fact, it might have slipped a little farther up his shorts leg. She must have noticed at about the same time because—if possible—she looked even more horrified than before and let her eyes drop to the spot in question.
“I swear.” It came out with a breathy sigh and she jerked her hand away. “Sorry. So, so sorry!”
He pushed his hair out of his eyes. “What happened here?”
“You sat on the remote.” She was still half lying and half kneeling at his feet, and her shirt had dipped to show the barest bit of cleavage. The sight of that and the memory of her hand on his thigh sent a shudder through him.
He reluctantly took her hands, raised her up, and eased her onto the couch beside him. “I didn’t mean to sit on it.”
“I know.” She rubbed what looked like a rug burn on her knee.
He began to laugh. She smiled a little and then joined in—though she didn’t seem to be feeling it. Boy, she really did not like her TV being turned on by someone’s ass.
“That was bizarre,” he said. “What are the odds? My commercial on at the exact minute it happened.”
Her eyes went moon-shaped, but then she shrugged. “Yeah. What are the odds?”
She stood up, crossed the room, and put the remote in the drawer of a little table. “Are you ready to make pie?”
“Sure. Let’s get to it. How long do you think it’s going to take?”
Her face clouded over. “Do you have to be somewhere else?”
“No, but I was hoping to eat soon.”
She brightened up a little. “Since we’re using those pie crusts in a box, probably no more than an hour.”
An hour? He’d be dead in an hour. “Well, let’s get to it.” Maybe she’d give him a snack.
“I’ve got everything we need ready to go. Just let me get it, and we’ll be on our way.”
On their way? “Where are we going?”
“Crust.” Her voice had an of course sound to it.
That made no sense. “You said to meet you here. I thought we were cooking here.”
She shook her head. “Since I didn’t know when you’d be finished, it seemed easier to have you come here first.”
He didn’t want to go to Crust, the scene of Armageddon. He was hoping they could watch Clerks or Chasing Amy while they ate chicken pot pie. Maybe it would be cool enough to turn on the fire.
“Can’t we do it here?”
She laughed. “Have you seen my kitchen?”
“No, though I thought I’d be seeing it tonight.”
She pointed to the door. “Have a look.”
He expected her to follow but he soon saw why she didn’t. It wasn’t much bigger than a closet—and he wasn’t talking about a walk-in closet either. There was barely enough room for one person to stand in front of the counter, with the sink and a microwave to the right. To the left there was a stove like you might find in a camper and a refrigerator the size of the one in the wet bar of his new condo.
When he turned around, Evans was leaning on the doorframe. “Do you see why we can’t have a cooking lesson here? I can put together something simple, but that’s about all.”
“Why would they do this?” he asked. “It’s such a nice little house.”
“The houses on this street were built in the 1940s for the textile mill management, who only lived in Laurel Springs during the week. I guess the men who lived here didn’t need much of a kitchen. This suits me fine. After all, who has a better kitchen than Crust?”
I do.
No way was he going to Crust. Unless he missed his guess, Able was on the hunt for Evie tonight and Crust was the first place he’d look. Jake didn’t need him busting up in there, delaying when he was going to get to eat. Of course he’d do the dishes. He’d proven that.
“Why don’t we go to my place?” he asked. “I’ve got plenty of room.” She looked interested. “I want you to see it anyway.”
She smiled. “Well, sure. We can do that. Hand me that bag by the sink and get the one from the refrigerator.”
Evans was still shaking inside when Jake punched in the code for his keypad lock. What a nightmare. She was deleting that recording as soon as she got home. If she had the need to watch that commercial again, she’d just have to watch it on YouTube.
“I don’t have any furniture yet,” he said as the door swung open. “Glaz put me in touch with an interior designer friend of his wife’s. Supposedly, everything is on schedule to get it all fixed up on Friday before my parents get here.”
“You’re cutting it close.”
He nodded and led her through a little foyer into the almost empty living room. It was nice—wood floors, built-in bookcases, marble fireplace, and multi-paned windows.
“It’s beautiful. Do you want to show me the rest, or get started?” she asked.
“I’d rather show you once I have something more than a couch and TV. Besides, I’m starving.”
“You mentioned that. Where’s the kitchen?”
“This way.” He led her to a central hallway and through what she supposed would be a dining nook into the kitchen.
He was right about one thing. There was plenty of room. Claire had outdone herself—custom cabinets, upscale appliances, quartz countertops that looked like they’d been set with jewels. She had to smile at the built-in wine refrigerator. Maybe he could store his beer in it.
Or the wine he would keep for his girlfriends. There hadn’t been anything on TheFace Off Grapevine lately, but it was just a matter of time.
“Are you all right?” Jake looked at her oddly. “Don’t you like the kitchen?”
Snap out of it, Evans! “I do! It’s great. I was just considering where to set up.”
“Whatever you think’s best. You know more about that than I do.” He opened a stainless steel door under the cabinet. “This is the best part. I’ve got one of those icemakers that makes that good ice like Sonic has. Do you want some?”
“No, thanks. Not right now.” She took the recipe out her bag and handed it to him. “Read over that while I unpack the ingredients.” She set the bag she carried on the island and lined up everything in the order they would need it. “Okay. Let’s get started. To begin with, I need a knife and cutting board. Go ahead and get me a skillet.”
“Oh, no,” he said. His head was cocked to the side, but not in that “surrender to my will” kind of way. It wasn’t a look she remembered seeing before. “I don’t have a skillet.”
“No skillet? What about a saucepan?” That would do, if push came to shove.
He shook his head. “I thought you said you had everything we needed.”
“I have the ingredients. I thought we were going to Crust, where there is plenty of equipment. Do you have any equipment?”
“I have a can opener. A Keurig. My mother bought that. And a corkscrew.”
Evie closed her eyes and massaged her forehead. Of course he would have a corkscrew. Couldn’t serve screw-top wine to his women.
“Maybe we need to go out and get me a skillet and a knife?” There was a hopeful tone to his voice.
“Jake...” She didn’t even know what to suggest. “The hardware store is closed. There’s a Williams-Sonoma and a Sur Le Table at the Summit, but that’s twenty minutes away—if the traffic is light. You’re hungry. I just don’t see how... We need to go to Crust.”
“Tell you what.” Head cock. Smile. “Let’s forget this cooking lesson tonight. Let’s go to the Summit. We’ll get dinner. Then you can help me buy what I need.”
Looked like they were going to the Summit. This time she didn’t even want to say no.