Sweet as Pie by Alicia Hunter Pace

Chapter Seventeen

Evans stepped out of the shower, dried off, and pulled on a pair of sleep pants and a tank top. She had never been so glad to be alone. Had it always been so stressful being with her parents and the Champagnes? All through her childhood and teen years? She didn’t remember it that way, but maybe that’s all she’d known at the time and considered it the norm.

Chocolate was what she needed; she always did when her hormones were raging, but never more than tonight. Plus, she was hungry. Somewhere along the way, she’d lost her appetite at Hammer Time and she’d given most of her quesadilla to Able. Maybe she should have brought it home, but that wasn’t what she wanted anyway. It had to be chocolate. Since she didn’t usually eat dessert besides taste testing at Crust, she hardly ever had sweets in the house. It was a good thing she’d filched one of those brownies from the buffet as she was leaving the ice suite.

She needed that brownie.

She sat on the sofa and reached for her purse, but got distracted by the gift basket from Christine. It was so big, she’d dropped her purse when Christine handed it to her as she was getting out of their SUV. The card said, “Thank you for making the pie for Jake! We love you, Christine.”

They did love her. Even Jake—just not how she wanted to be loved. The basket, which had come from the Gift Emporium around the block from Crust, was all done up in fall colors. Lisa made a nice basket, and it would have cost three times the price of a chicken pot pie. Maybe there was some chocolate in there. She untied the orange ribbon and began to paw through the things nestled in the autumn-leaf-colored tissue paper. There was a cinnamon-scented candle, apple bodywash, some hand soap in a pumpkin-shaped decanter, an Ole Miss coffee mug, a package of toasted pecans, a tin of cheese straws, and some linen tea towels. No chocolate. She picked up one of the oatmeal-colored towels. It had a band of embroidered bees with the words Y’all Bee Sweet depicted above. The other towel was identical, except it said Y’all Bee Kind. A wave of guilt washed over her. She folded the towels with the words to the inside and put them back in the basket.

Nothing like tea towel conviction.

She wasn’t being sweet or kind to Able. He clearly liked her. All through dinner he’d kept inching closer and closer to her, and she’d declined his offer of a ride home, knowing he would want to kiss her—and she could not kiss him. No matter how many times she’d told herself otherwise, she was never going to be able to return his interest. He was a decent man who had been nothing but nice to her, and he didn’t deserve to be used as a vehicle to help her get over Jake.

She would get over Jake, but she wasn’t going to do it on Able’s time. That was going to stop right now, starting with canceling on the breakfast in the morning. It would be easier to go and leave the hard stuff until later but—at this particular moment anyway—she was more committed to right than easy. And canceling was the right thing. She’d already been seen eating dinner with him by half the team. If she waltzed into that breakfast on his arm, they would be put on the matrimony watch list. Hyacinth would show up at her door with fabric swatches, a sketchpad, and maybe a TV producer.

Unfortunately, the reason for canceling wasn’t the easiest thing either. If she made some feeble excuse like she wasn’t feeling well, he’d probably believe it and send flowers. That wouldn’t help anything. No. She would tell him the truth—up to a point.

She reached into her purse for her phone, but ran across the brownie first. She took a bite as she pondered what she would say to him. It was easy to let the brownie distract her; it was fudgy and studded with pecans. Best of all, it was big—about four inches square. Who cared if it was a little linty? She set it aside. No more until the chore at hand was done.

She’d tell Able that she was emotionally attached to someone else, even though there was no relationship—that she’d thought maybe exploring things with him could help her move on, but she knew now that wasn’t true. It wasn’t fair to him. She needed to truly get over this and become emotionally healthy, not just distract herself.

That sounded good—yet awful at the same time. If this wasn’t a clear case of “it’s not you, it’s me,” she didn’t know what was. Telling herself it was for courage, she took another bite of brownie and searched her bag for her phone, but came up empty.

It had to be there.

She emptied her purse on the sofa—wallet, keys, smoky eyeshadow palette, dirty napkin from the brownie, linen monogrammed handkerchief that she always forgot she had, pack of tissues that she used instead, four pens, a lipstick, numerous cash register receipts, a little cosmetic bag with extra tampons.

No phone. She must have lost it when she spilled her purse in the floorboard of the Champagnes’ SUV.

No matter. Her daddy would bring it to her. He had her car. She’d just call him—

Except she couldn’t. No phone. And no landline. She couldn’t call anybody.

Hell, hell, hell.

Jake let himself into the condo and listened. Empty. He wasn’t surprised that he’d beat his parents back. It hadn’t taken long to get Delilah and Dawn on the road. As he’d predicted, there had been no flat tire and their car was parked just up the street from Hammer Time. Robbie had been charming but firm, and blamed the whole thing on Glaz. The girls were disappointed but, all in all, good sports.

“There they go,” Robbie had said a little wistfully as their taillights disappeared. Robbie had wanted to go back to Hammer Time and eat, but Jake had nixed that. He was hungry, too, but he’d had all of this day he wanted. He was tired of Killjoys and neckties. More than that, he didn’t want to watch Able Killen load Evie into his giant truck and drive off into the night. He knew now that eventually he would have to see it or something similar. Clearly, she was as interested in Able as he was in her, or else she wouldn’t be going to the team breakfast with him and allowing their families to mix. That was big business.

He threw his necktie, along with his suit and shirt, in the basket marked dry cleaning and pulled on a pair of shorts and an old college T-shirt.

Had he made a mistake? He had to face that his jealousy over Able was irrational. Was there more to it than just wanting Evie to be free to pal around with him? His mind wandered back to that Christmas party where he’d met Channing, but he wasn’t thinking of Channing. He was remembering how Evie had looked that night, how she’d smiled a certain way and how he was about to ask her to the spring dance.

She still smiled that way. What if he’d never made the bet with Robbie? What if, after coming to Laurel Springs, he’d picked up where he left off before Channing blew into his life? Of all the reasons why he couldn’t be attracted to Evie, the only one that really mattered was the risk to their friendship. But some risks were worth taking. What if this was one of them?

But it was a moot point. Killjoy was probably with her right now, had probably already rounded up a jersey with his name and number on it for her. Jake had to find a way not to be mad about it. Maybe he should have been more proactive before Killjoy came on the scene. He sure hadn’t been scared to take action.

His stomach growled. His parents would be home soon with his pizza but, in the meantime, he supposed he might as well pack for the road trip. He needed to remember his coat. It would be cold in Winnipeg, maybe in Minnesota, too.

He began to make a mental packing list. Suits first. He’d need two, but when he went to retrieve them, some were missing. That’s when he found his suitcase and garment bag sitting by his bedroom door, all ready to go. His mother had packed for him. Wanting to be sure he’d have what he needed, Jake unzipped the garment bag—two of the London suits and his overcoat were inside. She’d even put his gloves in the pockets of his coat. His heart warmed a little. His suitcase was meticulously packed with his shoes in bags, dress shirts wrapped in tissue paper, ties rolled so they wouldn’t wrinkle, and plenty of underwear. Looked like she’d thought of everything, even a phone charger and spare shirts and ties. The only fly in the ointment was the toiletries. She had packed them, and he’d need them in the morning.

But when he started to unpack the Dopp kit, he found new duplicates of everything, right down to an electric razor. He shouldn’t have been surprised. Christine advocated duplicate toiletries for everyone who traveled more than a few times a year. She’d provided that for him until he graduated from college and he’d kept up the habit, but he’d left his extra kit when he moved out of the McMansion and had never duplicated it.

A chime sounded, signaling that the door had been opened. Christine was setting the pizza box on the bar when Jake entered the kitchen.

“Hi,” he said behind her.

She jumped and whirled around. “Jake! You scared me. I didn’t expect you this soon.”

“I didn’t expect to be here this soon either.” He slid onto a bar stool and opened the box. Not hot, but not stone cold. It would do. “Thanks for packing for me.”

“You’re welcome. I know I’m not what you’d call maternal in the kitchen, but I do what I can in other areas. I’m an excellent packer.”

“None better,” Jake agreed. “Where’s Dad?” Maybe it wasn’t too much to hope for that she wouldn’t question how he’d gotten downtown, changed a tire, and gotten back so fast.

“Parking the car. He let me out at the door.” She went to the refrigerator and took out a partial bottle of wine. “Do you want a beer to go with your pizza?”

“No. I’m not drinking much these days and not at all until the preseason games are over, but I’ll let you hand me a bottle of water.”

“Here you go.” She gave him the water and opened a cabinet. “Do you want a glass?” She knew he didn’t, but this was her way of reminding him that she didn’t hold with drinking out of bottles.

“This is fine.” He removed the top and took a long drink.

She brought her wine—in a glass—and sat down beside him. “How did you get home so fast?”

He sighed. “I don’t suppose you’d buy that I’m really Superman and took care of that flat tire in thirty seconds?”

She laughed. “No—though you did play like Superman tonight, at least the last two periods.”

He took a bite of pizza, and his stomach cheered. “Can Superman skate? I’ve never known him to skate. It’s not a given that everyone can skate, you know.” Evie couldn’t. He should have been more patient with her when they were young. He’d promised her skates, and he would deliver, but he was through giving her grief about Able—even in his head. He’d buy the skates, but if she wanted Able to teach her, he would be all right with it. Mostly.

“I would bet Superman can skate—if he wants to. So, about the flat tire?”

That woman definitely had the need to know. He’d been trying to distract her for years, and it never worked.

“There was no flat tire. The girls were parked down the street. They thought they were doing us a favor to get us out of what they considered a boring family situation for—shall we say—some more exciting times. We sent them on their way. That’s all there was to it.”

“Why didn’t you come back in and eat?”

Because I was tired of seeing Able Killen moving into Evie’s personal space.

“I was tired. I wanted out of my suit and tie. I didn’t want to come in and admit to everyone that Delilah and Dawn had told a big lie.”

Christine shook her head. “Jake...those girls—”

“Mama, stop right there,” he said. “They aren’t like you and your friends, but they’re sweet and well intentioned. Nothing mean about them. We aren’t going to disparage them.”

She frowned. “I wasn’t. I was only going to say that it isn’t right for you and Robbie to take advantage of someone you might have power over.”

That was a surprise. Christine liked things a certain way, and Delilah and Dawn were not her flavor. “We don’t have any power over them,” Jake said. Unless you count my ability to deliver rapid-fire multiple orgasms, and we aren’t going to discuss that. “They’re living their lives—at least right now—like they want to. They like hockey players and they’re having fun. That’s their business. But they won’t be having fun with me anymore. I am...reevaluating.”

“That’s good to hear.” She looked relieved. “Let’s leave this subject. I’m not entirely comfortable with it.”

“Thank God!” he burst out and they laughed together.

Christine’s laugh settled into a smile, and she leaned toward him and let her eyes sparkle. It was a good trick. He could do it, too—had learned it from her.

“Tell me about Able Killen. Is he nice?”

Any residual amusement that had been hanging around inside of Jake died on the vine. He ate some more pizza to buy time. “Yes,” he was forced to say. “I don’t know him well, but he has a reputation for being a stand-up guy.”

“Good. Evie deserves it.”

That was true, too. Before he had to voice that, the door tone sounded.

“There’s Marc,” Christine said.

A minute later, he came into the kitchen. “Do either of you know who this belongs to? I found it on the floorboard.” He held up a cell phone with a green leather case. Evie’s, but how had it ended up in the SUV?

“It’s not Anna-Blair’s,” Christine said.

“It looks like Evie’s,” Jake said.

Christine snapped her fingers. “That’s right. She spilled her purse when we took her home.”

That was interesting. “Killjoy didn’t take her home?”

“No.” Christine shook her head. “I don’t know why.”

“I don’t guess she has a landline?” Marc looked at Jake. “Nobody your age does.”

“No,” Jake confirmed. Had Able not offered to take her home? Or had she refused him? Or maybe he was going home to change clothes and go over to her house later. Maybe he was there now.

“I guess I should take it to her,” Marc said. “I don’t like the idea of her alone with no way to get in touch with anybody.”

Jake rose, took one more bite of pizza, and reached for the phone. “I’ll take it.” He moved toward the foyer where his keys were.

“Jake?” Christine called.

Oh, what now?

“Yes?” He turned and met her eyes.

“Aren’t you going to get your shoes?”