Sweet as Pie by Alicia Hunter Pace

Chapter Twelve

Most men claimed to hate shopping, but Jake didn’t believe it. All you had to do was consider the amount of money spent every minute that ticked away in every first world country on the map to know that wasn’t true. Women weren’t the only ones spending all that money. To be fair he didn’t know exactly—or remotely—what that amount was, but he was sure if he looked it up, the data would support his presumption. So no. It was just a matter of the merchandise in question. While he would rather eat rocks than spend one second in a store dedicated to smelly candles, fruity bath products, and wine charms, a car dealership or electronics emporium was a different matter entirely.

He expected this kitchen store to be a necessary evil, but he wasn’t feeling too bad about it since he now had a full belly, having just eaten eggrolls, Cajun jambalaya pasta, and tiramisu cheesecake. That’s what he liked about the Cheesecake Factory. You could eat from all the countries.

As they entered Williams-Sonoma, Evie was listing off the things he would need. “A saucepan, a skillet, a couple of knives. A pie pan, of course. You’re going to want to buy those here because you need quality products. Things like measuring cups and whisks, you can get cheaper at Target.”

“But we aren’t at Target,” he pointed out.

“No,” she agreed. “But—”

“If they have that stuff here, let’s just get it.”

“Are you sure?” She frowned.

“I’m sure. Just imagine you’re making chicken pot pie in your head. Get everything you would use. While you’re at it, pretend to scramble some eggs.” He could scramble eggs. Not having a skillet, he hadn’t in a while, but he was sure nothing had changed about the process. “Let’s get a toaster and a microwave bacon pan, too.” Before he knew it, he’d be able to cook a whole meal.

“All right. I’m also going to insist on a rolling pin. I haven’t given up on your learning to make pastry.” The door closed behind them.

“Whatever it takes to get you through the day,” he said. “I guess stranger things have happened.”

“It’s really not that hard. If you can run around the rink balanced on what amounts to a knife blade you can—” She stopped short, focused on something behind him, and her eyes glazed over. “Oh.” She sounded in awe.

Clearly, she forgot all about him, walked right away from him like a recently dead soul going toward the light—only, in this case, the light was a giant display of copper pots. By the time he caught up with her, she was caressing a little round pan the same way Addison had caressed that high-priced pocketbook he’d bought her last Christmas.

“So gorgeous,” she muttered under her breath, and—as pots went—he supposed it was. This cookware was a damn sight better looking than that pocketbook with somebody else’s initials plastered all over it. There must have been twenty pieces, not counting the lids. Each one had brass handles and knobs decorated with different things—acorns, lemons, leaves, pumpkins, and little birds. There were even a couple of pieces with turkeys that were probably meant to get you in the spirit of Thanksgiving.

In all the years he’d known Evie, he’d never seen her so taken with anything.

A sales clerk approached. “Hi. I’m Millicent. Can I help you folks?”

His first inclination was to buy it for Evie. Then he remembered the size of her kitchen.

“No,” Evie said. “We’re just looking.”

Looking? They had not come to look. Looking was a waste of time. Maybe that was the difference in the male and female versions of shopping.

“We’ll take this.” He gestured to the display.

“What?” Evie said, clearly surprised. “No.” She emphatically shook her head.

“Really?” Millicent looked gleeful. Maybe she got commission. “Which pieces?”

“All of it,” he said. At least Evie could look at it at his house—maybe even cook with it. He made a mental note to buy her a set when she got married.

At that thought, his mouth went dry and, suddenly, a movie of the future materialized in his head. Evie was taking that big ass pan with the turkey on top out of the oven. Oddly, the movie was set in his kitchen. Then, none other than Able Killen materialized beside her, took the heavy pan, and set it on the counter. “I’ll wash the dishes,” he said, leaning in to kiss her.

Jake did not like that movie; he quickly deleted it from his brain before the kiss could happen. Evie didn’t have to be married to get a gift. Most of this didn’t seem to have much to do with pie making, or he’d buy it for her now. Maybe later when she got a proper kitchen. He tried to visualize her in her future kitchen, but couldn’t come up with what it would look like.

“Jake, no,” Evie said. “This isn’t necessary.”

“What do you mean? You said we needed some pots.” And these make you happy.

“I did, but I was thinking of some high-quality stainless steel. Look.” She turned over the piece she held and showed him the price.

Wow, he didn’t know pots cost so much. Still, not that bad. There was a lot of it. Surely, that wasn’t for one pan. But the clerk had asked which pieces.

“Do you get it all for that price?” Millicent bit her lip and looked at the floor, but Evie just went ahead and laughed out loud.

“No,” Evie said. “You get this piece for that price.”

“The lid is included,” Millicent said, hopefully.

That was a lot of money. He was about to say lead on to the stainless steel, but when Evie set the pan back on the display, she ran her finger over the little leaves on the handle and sighed happily.

That did it. What the hell? He’d spent a lot more than this at a certain jewelry store in Paris on his honeymoon.

“Wrap it up,” he said to the clerk. “We’ll take it all.”

Evie’s eyes widened. “Jake, I can’t let you do this. It’s insane! It won’t even fit in your car. The turkey roaster alone...” Her voice trailed off and she let her eyes rest on the pan from his movie. It was big enough to bathe a Labrador retriever.

She had a point. The Lamborghini had been built for speed, power, and style—not for hauling cookware or much of anything else. Then the solution came to him. “No problem. Lucy Kincaid has a crew coming in Friday to set up the condo. I’ll ask her to pick it up. Millicent, you can have it ready for her then, can’t you?” He reached into his wallet and gave her Lucy’s business card. “That’s who’ll be picking it up.”

She nodded so fast that he was surprised her head didn’t fly off. “Absolutely. Shall I ring it up or will there be anything else?”

“Wait.” Evie clasped his wrist. “If you really want a piece of this...” She picked up a round pan with apples on the handle. “Get this pie plate.”

“We’ll take two of those, Millicent.” Maybe he could get Evie to make him a Mississippi mud pie, too. “And the rest of it. We also need—what was it, Evie? A pancake turner and some spoons? What else?”

“Yes,” Evie said quietly. “I know my way around. I’ll find the other things we need.”

Once the happy clerk left, Evie hissed at him, “You’ve lost your mind. You do not need all that. You just bought a four-hundred-dollar paella pan and a fondue pot for God only knows how much.”

He smiled at her. “Not only God. I guarantee you Millicent knows. How else would she ring it up?”

“You’re not going to cook paella.”

“I might. Or maybe I’ll have company—someone who wants to cook paella.” He wasn’t sure what paella was, but Evie would know. He winked at her.

“Ah.” Her tone was flat and her cheeks went pink. “I see.” What did she see? Was she mad? Was he being an asshole, assuming she would cook paella for him?

“I would help. I can chop, and I’d wash all the dishes.”

She ran her hand over her face and came up with a smile. Okay, not mad. “It’s your money. Do you want to pick out your other things?”

“No. You’re the expert. If it’s all the same to you, I’ll let you pick.” Off she went. “Don’t forget the toaster,” he called after her. She waved her hand in the air without looking back. He was fairly sure that meant shut up, not goodbye.

He wandered around until he found something interesting—a display of all manner of neat little machines that he had never heard of. He didn’t want an electric pasta maker, but its existence made the world better.

Then he saw it—the combination coffee/espresso maker. He fell for it immediately. Who wouldn’t? With all its nozzles, knobs, and gauges, it looked a like a toy spaceship—probably for time travel.

“Please tell me you’re not thinking of buying that thing,” said the voice behind him. He felt the smile coming on before he turned around.

“Got to have it, Evie.” After all, he’d bought those pots with the fancy handles for her. He deserved this.

“You don’t even drink coffee.”

“My parents do.” You do.

“You have a Keurig.”

“It’s not nearly as cool as this.”

“This costs two thousand dollars.” Did it? He smiled. She went on, “You don’t care, do you?”

“Not at all.” He’d spent a lot of money, mostly on other people. He’d been happy to do it, but it was his turn. Though it made no sense, this was the first thing he’d truly wanted since the Lamborghini. And he was going to have it.

“I suppose you want to be able to show it off to your paella-making company.”

“Exactly.” He winked at her again. “That’s the spirit.”

She shook her head. “I was going to ask you to come look over the other things I picked out before I spend your money, but I can see it doesn’t matter to you that a whisk costs twenty dollars.”

It did not.

After Millicent presented him with the staggering bill and ran his credit card, she said, “I hope y’all will be as happy with your purchases as you are with each other.”

Happy with each other? He didn’t know what to say to that, and Evie looked a little taken aback, too.

He found his voice. “Thank you for your service, Millicent.” As soon as it came out of his mouth, he realized it was the wrong thing.

“Uh, right,” she said. “You’re very welcome. We’ll have everything ready for your interior designer.”

Once they were out of the store, he started laughing like he was at the circus. It took her a second, but Evie joined in. “Why did I just say that like she was a Navy SEAL? ‘Thank you for your service, ma’am!’” He saluted. “I guess I was surprised she thought we were married. I could have told her you were in my wedding, all right. You just weren’t the bride.”

And in a split second, the laughter died on Evie’s face. “Jake, I wasn’t.”

She hadn’t been in that Cecil B. Demille production of a wedding? At least fourteen women had marched down that aisle wearing dresses the color of Bazooka bubble gum; surely Evie had been one of them.

“You weren’t? I could have sworn...” How could he have missed that?

Evie smiled a sad little smile. “To be fair there was a lot of pink tulle and ruffles going on with those dresses. It was hard to see who was under all that.”

“That’s the truth. But you’re Channing’s cousin.”

She shrugged. “Yes, but that doesn’t mean I was in the wedding. My sisters were. Your sister was. But it was an all Omega Beta Gamma cast. I didn’t make the cut.”

She began to walk toward the car and he fell into step with her.

“I guess I had a lot going on—getting ready to move to Nashville, the honeymoon, getting enough groomsmen lined up for all those pink women. But I swear, Evie. I thought you were one of them. I can’t believe it.”

“Oh, you can believe it, all right. If you don’t, ask my mother. I didn’t care, but she did. She said if it weren’t for you and your parents, she would have refused to go to the wedding.”

He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “I guess I wasn’t paying attention. Channing was always accusing me of that. Maybe that’s why I’m divorced.”

When they reached the car, Evie stopped and met his eyes. “I’ll tell you why you’re divorced. You’re divorced because Channing is a spoiled brat who got distracted.” As soon as she’d spoken, her face went pink and she put her hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

He liked that she’d said it. He was over the whole thing, but that didn’t mean he didn’t appreciate a little righteous indignation on his behalf. “Hey, close or not, she’s your blood, not mine. If you can’t say it, who can?”

Evie got this prissy little look on her face. “Nevertheless, one shouldn’t speak disparagingly about the love of someone’s life.”

“One shouldn’t, should one?” Jake said.

Evie shook her head. “Me. I. I shouldn’t have said it.”

“Oh, who cares? She wasn’t the love of my life anyway. I just thought she was.”

“Isn’t that the same thing? People are always saying, ‘I just thought I was in love. I never was.’ It’s the same thing. If you think you’re in love, you are.”

“I guess so.” He reached to open the passenger door for her, but stopped. An image of Evie at the wedding came rushing back.

“You served the cake at the reception, didn’t you?”

“Yes. And what a cake it was—what with the bridges, satellite cakes, and edible glitter.” She sounded amused, cheerful. But she couldn’t be. Even he knew that though people acted like it was an honor to be asked to serve the bride’s cake, the job really went to someone who wasn’t quite good enough to stand at the altar with the bride.

It must have been humiliating for her.

He was as much to blame for the oversight as Channing—more. Evie was one of his best friends—maybe his best friend. If he’d known Channing hadn’t included her, he would have insisted.

Wouldn’t he?

No.

He wouldn’t have given it another thought. Jake wasn’t proud of it, but there it was. As long as Channing was getting what she wanted, he was happy. He had never considered another thing—even making Evie feel like she meant less than nothing to him. But hadn’t he already done that—long before the wedding? With the calls he didn’t return, the texts he barely answered, the forgotten birthdays?

He had been the biggest dick in Dick Land. Still was. Oh, he’d been sorry before, but not sorry enough. He might have meant it when he apologized, but it was the timing that was the problem—that and the motive. He may as well have said, “I know I treated you like shit, Evie, but now that I’m going to be living where you are, could you pretty please forgive me? And while you’re at it, forget it happened and make me a pie.”

He closed his eyes—from shame and because he didn’t deserve to even look at her. “Evie, I am so, so sorry.”

“We’ve been through this.”

“No. Not by half, we haven’t.” He opened his eyes and placed his hands on her shoulders. She was trembling—or was it him? “There’s no excuse for how I turned my back on you. I put you in a box, stored you on a shelf, and thought you’d be there when I got ready to let you out again.” He moved his hands against her. It felt good.

She put up a hand and started to shake her head.

“No. Don’t tell me it was all right.”

He locked eyes with her and they were quiet for a moment.

“At the very least, I should have come to my senses after the divorce. I should have thrown myself on your doorstep and begged you to forgive me.” But, no. He’d used all his energy chasing ass and drinking. “It never hit me until now—how it must have made you feel, how it would have made me feel.”

She didn’t blink and then she nodded. “Our relationship was always like a magic carpet ride for me,” she said quietly. “Sometimes we flew high and fast, sometimes steady and slow. But it was always there. We were always on that carpet together. I guess the hardest part was that I thought we had just entered a steady, slow phase, but I looked up one day and had to face that I was on the ground—alone. There was no carpet and there was no Jake.”

Broken heart. People said it all the time. He’d never understood it, not even the day Channing had thrown him out of the house. He’d come closer when Blake died, but even that didn’t equal this, and he understood why.

A heart could only be really broken when you were to blame.

Evie let out a ragged breath, closed her eyes, and swallowed. He realized she was swallowing tears and he wondered how many times she’d cried because of him.

His heart went from jagged pieces to crushed into powder.

He folded her against him and cradled her head against his neck. “I’d give anything—anything—if I’d never let you go.”

She startled and then went still for a beat before pulling away enough to look up at him, her eyes wide and questioning. “What...what is it that you mean, Jake?”

What did he mean?

He let his eyes drop to her mouth—the mouth that always smiled at him, but wasn’t smiling now. He could answer her question by bringing her mouth to his. He knew instinctively that she would welcome it—and he almost did it. He opened his lips and dropped his face toward her.

But he stopped. How could he answer her with a gesture when he didn’t have the answer in words?

“I mean I should have returned your calls. Hell, I shouldn’t have waited for you to call. I should have treated your friendship like the fine thing it was—is.”

She nodded and slowly pulled out of his arms, leaving a cold void where she’d been.

“Thank you for saying that, Jake.”

He still wanted to kiss her, but that wouldn’t do. “Hey, Evie, I really am sorry I treated you so bad, but how about we suck face?” That would be a real princely move.

Time to lighten the mood. “But at least you didn’t have to wear that pink parade float of a dress.” He opened the car door for her.

She smiled as she climbed. “One good thing about serving the cake—I got to pick my own dress. It was not Pepto Bismol pink.”

He laughed. “Tell you what—you can be in my next wedding and you can pick the dress.” He tried and failed to conjure up an image of what that would look like. No wonder. Another marriage wasn’t at the top of his list. At least that exorbitant amount of alimony he’d paid Channing had come to an end when she’d remarried. He might not be as lucky next time.

“I won’t hold you to it.”

“Well, I figure I’ve had my last wedding anyway. But, Evie”—he put a hand on her arm—“there’s not a woman in a veil you wouldn’t outshine.”

His next wedding?

This wasn’t the first time Evans had let herself dance into blissful hope, only to get slammed to the ground in the most humiliating way possible—but, with God as her witness, it would be the last time. When he’d inclined his face toward hers, she’d been so sure that he was—finally—going to kiss her that she had almost put her hands on his cheeks to guide him there. But his expression had suddenly changed and she stopped. That was something, at least. Then he’d started babbling about taking her calls—that was what he’d meant by not letting her get away.

And then he’d thrown her that bone about outshining some specter bride.

Would she never learn? She’d gone without sleep, worked late, worked early, took the afternoon off, all so she could do a favor for Jake Champagne—and there still hadn’t been a pie-making lesson, nor would there be in the foreseeable future. He was leaving Sunday for a week on the road.

“When you get home, freeze the chicken,” she said absently as Jake veered onto the highway that would take them back to Laurel Springs.

She was an idiot of the first degree. With all her silent whining about “not getting back on the Jake Road,” she’d missed the truth. She’d never left it, not really. She had just buried it when he had started seeing Channing, and there it had stayed until he’d walked into Crust that day. But now that she was clear about her locale, she was certain about her destination: the next exit ramp. It might take a bit to get there and that was okay. She just had to go straight and keep it between the lines.

Furthermore, what she felt for Jake wasn’t a teenage crush, never had been. She knew that now. She was in love with him, just like she’d thought she’d been at fifteen, but she was calling a halt to it here and now.

“Do what?” Jake glanced at her. “Freeze what chicken?”

What chicken, indeed. “The chicken in your refrigerator that I bought when I thought we were going to cook tonight. Put it in the freezer. It’ll go bad before you get back.” That is, of course, unless your anticipated company is going to come over and cook it up for you. But if that’s the case, be sure and let her know that she needs to bring a skillet. The equipment that I spent a great deal of effort choosing for you—and her—won’t arrive until Friday.

“I will. We can have my cooking lesson when I get back from the road games.”

“Mmm,” she said. Would they? Right now, she wanted to tell him they most certainly would not, but she recognized that she was tired and shell shocked over her realization—not to mention raw that he had bought the most beautiful cookware she’d ever seen in hopes of impressing some woman who might or might not know how to boil water without destroying a four-hundred-dollar Swiss-made copper saucepan.

“I’ll need a couple of days to recover from the travel, but then I’ll be ready.” Apparently, he’d taken her Mmm for a yes. Understandable. That’s what it had always meant before. “You know what would be good? Some ice cream. Why don’t you google us up a place to get some?”

“Actually, I’m kind of tired. Please take me home.” The sum of it was he had been everything to her while she wasn’t much more than a blip on his radar. She’d been doing just fine the last few years, hadn’t even thought of him—at least not much. Then he’d waltzed in, smiled, and she was right back where she’d been. But no more.

“Oh, come on, Evie. Butter pecan. It’s your favorite.”

Hell, hell, hell. Butter pecan was not her favorite! It was his.

“No.” He might as well get used to sound of it right now. “I said I want to go home.”

“Okay. Okay. Sorry.” He sounded pouty. Well, let him pout. It wouldn’t do him any good this time.

Just when she thought they would make the rest of the drive in silence he asked abruptly, “What’s your shoe size?”

“Seven.” She could hear the weariness in her voice. If he noticed it, he would assume she just needed some sleep—which she did, but that was the least of her fatigue. It was her heart that was exhausted. “Why?”

“I’m going to buy you some ice skates while I’m on the road. Better selection up North.” He paused. “You don’t have any, do you?”

“No, Jake. I don’t have any. What’s more, I don’t need any.”

“How are you going to learn to skate without skates?”

“Hmm.” Let him make of that what he would. She didn’t want to argue, didn’t want to tell him there would be no skating lessons. He probably wouldn’t buy the skates anyway, wouldn’t think about it again—even though he was rattling on about when they would go and how she needed skate socks, so he would pick those up, too. She barely listened and didn’t bother to respond. What were skate socks anyway?

They were almost home. She reached for her purse and searched out her keys. She wanted to be ready to bolt out of the car and into her house, wanted away from Jake and his talk about socks, skates, and Dietrich Wingo, who was apparently too big for his britches.

“In case you’ve been wondering, I’ve been reading that ghost story book, so I’ll be ready. I’ll take it on the road with me and read some more on the plane.”

“I’m sure you’ll be the star of the fall festival,” she said flatly. And he probably would be.

“Hey!” He snapped his fingers like he did when he remembered something. “I need to let Claire know how many guests I’ll have for this breakfast thing they’re having Sunday morning. I can count you in, can’t I?”

She opened her mouth to say, “Sure, great, yes, yes, yes, and I am so grateful that you considered me! Maybe there will be a cake I can serve.” Then she swallowed the words and batted away the feeling she’d always felt when Jake threw her a bone—elation and hope. How many times had he asked to do something similar, whether it was getting tamales, seeing a movie, or shopping for thousands of dollars’ worth of cookware? In the end, she always had to face that it was just tamales, movies, and copper pots.

As children, they done everything together, but it became less and less as they got older when his hockey became more demanding and he’d started to have girlfriends. He might call her for a movie when the girl of the moment was at cheerleader camp or he wanted late-night tamales after the cheerleader’s curfew, but—by far—they spent most of their time together during those years when he was between girls. Every time, she had hoped maybe she was the next girl, but she never had been—yet she’d never given up hope until Channing came along and there was no in between.

And the hell of it was he hadn’t done one thing wrong. She was his friend, his buddy, his pal. He’d brought her balloons and sat with her for hours when she’d been sick on Valentine’s Day the year she was fifteen. Of course, he’d left in time to take the girl of the moment to the sweetheart dance. It was entirely reasonable that he would want to hang out with her when he wasn’t otherwise romantically occupied. But no more.

She had to start saying no to Jake, and now was as good a time as any. She would go to the game. It was expected of her—by her parents and his. There would probably be some shared meals, but this breakfast wasn’t going to be one of them.

“No, Jake. I don’t think so. But thank you for asking.”

“What?” Wide-eyed, he whipped his head around and had to jerk the car back onto the road. Of course he was surprised. Why wouldn’t he be? She fought off the inclination to turn into yes girl, set on pleasing Jake, but she couldn’t stop herself from offering an excuse.

“It’s not a good time for me. It’s going to be a busy weekend. I want to sleep late on Sunday. It’s the only day Crust is closed.”

He looked baffled. “But my parents are going. And yours. I called my mom earlier and she said so. They’ll want to see you before they leave town.”

She nodded. “And they can—after they’ve gone to the breakfast and after I’ve slept late.” After you’re on that plane reading ghost stories, headed to Winnipeg.

He gave half a nod. “All right.” She wasn’t sure she’d ever heard him speak so quietly—and he remained quiet for a while before he broke the silence. “Are you sure?” He looked at her out of the corner of his eye and smiled a little, but he didn’t cock his head to the side and bite his lip. “It would be fun to have you there.”

“I’m sure.”

“Okay.”

The silence in the car was heavy and tense. She should have been proud of herself—and maybe she was, at least a bit—but she was also miserable. She might have been able to say no, but she hadn’t liked it. Maybe she never would.

At last, he turned down her street. More than ready to escape the uncomfortable atmosphere of the insect mobile, she went through the keys on her ring until she found her house key. If she was quick, she could escape inside before he had time to get out and open her door.

Then, suddenly, a quarter of a block from her house, Jake slammed on the brakes and pulled to the curb. “Hellfire and brimstone! There’s someone sitting on your porch!”

Curious, she turned and looked. Sure enough, there was. Even though the moon was bright and the streetlights lit, it was impossible to make out who. Then she noticed that parked behind her car was the biggest, bluest pickup truck she had ever seen.

“I wonder who it could be,” she said idly. “I don’t recognize the truck.”

“Truck?” Jake turned his head and focused. He didn’t say anything, but barely changed his expression—enough that she got the idea he knew who it was. “Idaho plates,” he muttered under his breath.

“Idaho?” She didn’t know anyone from Idaho.

“You stay here,” Jake commanded, unbuckling his seatbelt. “I’ll take care of this.”

For a second, she was grateful that he was willing to investigate why a random stranger was sitting on her steps, but then the person in question rose and the light hit him just right—Able Killen. Having spotted them, he waved and walked toward the insect mobile.

“This shouldn’t take long.” Jake opened his door.

“Simmer down, Jake,” she said. “It’s Able. I didn’t know he knew where I live.”

“He’s stalking you. I’ll take care of this,” he said again.

“There’s nothing to take care of, Jake,” she said a little more forcefully. “It’s Able.”

“He’s got no business skulking around your house.”

“He’s not skulking. He was sitting on the steps in the full light of the moon. Stalkers don’t do that. They hide in the bushes.” Able was almost to the car.

“What do you know about stalkers?” Jake sounded like a huffy child who’d been denied dessert. “I’ll find out what he wants.”

Well, Jake, apparently he wants to see me—not you. Otherwise, he’d be waiting on your doorstep, not mine. He went to some trouble to see me and that feels pretty good. So you run on.

But she didn’t answer. She just got out of the car. “Hello, Able.”

He stepped in front of her and smiled. “Hi, Evans. Sorry for showing up like this, but I don’t have your cell number, and when I called Crust, they said you were off.” He looked past her. “Hey, Sparks.”

Evans turned and looked. Jake was out of the car—of course he was.

“Killjoy.” He nodded toward Able.

Able broke into laughter. It was a nice sound. “Killjoy,” he repeated. “I like it. I thought I might be the last living hockey player without a nickname. They used to call me Lincoln, but it died out after juniors.”

“Lincoln?” Jake said.

“Yeah. First it was Abe, then Honest Abe, then...well, you know.” He grinned. “I never liked it much. Killjoy sounds much meaner.”

“Right.” Jake seemed to have only one-word responses in him.

Able turned to Evans. “I don’t want to interrupt. I just had something I needed to ask you.”

“No problem. You’re not interrupting a thing. I went with Jake to help him buy some things for his kitchen, but we’re done. Good night, Jake.”

“I’ll walk you to your door,” Jake said grimly.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. “Able will keep me company.”Even with the emphasis on the word, Jake didn’t seem to get the reference. He just gave her a blank look, mumbled good night, and drove away.

“Sparks didn’t seem too pleased,” Able said. “Are you sure I didn’t cut your evening short?”

“I’m sure.” She turned, walked toward the house, and Able fell into step beside her. “It had already gone on too long.” They reached the porch. “Would you like to come inside?”

He hesitated—clearly torn. “I would, but I’d better not. Early skate tomorrow.”

“Sure.” She got the impression he really regretted turning her down—though she was glad he had. She felt like a tin can full of marbles rolling down a hill. Despite her polite and expected invitation, she wanted to be alone and quiet.

“I hope you won’t hold it against me.”

“Of course not. You said you needed to ask me something?”

“Yes. Are you coming to the game Saturday night?” He laughed a little. “Though that wasn’t really the question I came to ask.”

“I’ll answer it anyway.” He truly was charming, though it seemed random and accidental. Maybe that was the best kind of charm. “I am. My parents are coming, and Jake’s. You know, we grew up together.”

He nodded. “I’ve been appointed captain that night.”

“Congratulations, Able. That’s great.”

He grinned. “It’s not that big a deal. There’s going to be different captains for the preseason games. It doesn’t mean I’ll be permanent.”

“It must mean you’re in the running.”

“Maybe. I don’t think they know yet.” He took a deep breath. “But about what I wanted to ask you—there’s a breakfast Sunday morning for the team and guests. I’d like you to come with me.”

She hesitated. That darn breakfast again. Wait. Did that mean she’d be meeting his family, like she would have if she’d agreed to go with him to Hammer Time after the game?

He might have read her mind, or he might have gotten lucky. Either way, he said, “My family has to fly out early Sunday morning, before the breakfast.”

“Sure,” she said. “I’d like that.” Jake could make of that what he would.

They exchanged cell numbers and he gave her a brief wave before getting in his truck, a vehicle that could have accommodated every turkey roaster known to man—and Williams-Sonoma.

Once inside, Evie sighed and sagged against the door for a full minute. What a night. Then, she picked up her remote, cued up the DVR, and watched the Sparkle commercial one last time before erasing it forever.