Delightful: Big Sky Pie #3 (7 page)

She was sure that Logan would be stiff from sleeping on the floor all night, but she left him there, knowing he’d be better emotionally for it.

She climbed into her own bed exhausted, hoping Lucas would sleep the night through, wishing she could absorb his pain instead of feeling helpless and hurting for him. She fell asleep thinking there should be something more a mother could do than offer gentle touches, soft reassurances, and distractions for her hurting child.

Sometime later, she began to dream of one sexy bad boy who knew exactly where to kiss her, who could raise her passion to levels she’d never experienced before, who was wrong for her in every possible way. A man she still wanted with every ounce of her being. Damn. She was doomed. She woke up shaking, in a cold sweat. It was still dark. She’d been asleep for only two hours.

She got up and went to check on the boys again, trying to shake off the dream, but it wouldn’t leave her. As she went into the kitchen, Andrea spied Molly’s caramel apple pie, cut herself a slice, heated it in the microwave, and lifted a forkful to her mouth. The crust flaked against her tongue, and the sweet apple and spices dissolved like honey, the taste sensation as delightful a pleasure as great sex. As she continued eating, every bite had her mind tumbling, trying to make sense of her life. Molly was right. She did miss having a permanent man around, someone to share the everyday events, someone to hold her when unwanted dreams woke her in the night.

As she scooped up the last morsel of pie, she had an epiphany. She was making bad choices, acting with her heart instead of her head. In an ideal world, the choice of her heart would be what was best for her entire family, but that wasn’t how things always worked. She needed to face it. Ice was a carnal fling. A last hoorah. He wasn’t staying in Montana. He had a life in California. His job took him across the country from one coast to the other. She was a small-town Montana girl who hadn’t a wanderlust bone in her whole body. None. It might sound a bit Dorothyish of her, but to Andrea, there was no place like home. Montana was in her blood, in her bones, in her heritage. Why would she ever want a man who didn’t feel the same?

She had to break those old, bad-for-her patterns. She wasn’t pursuing anything in her life. She was just surviving, just taking care of the boys and working to fulfill that duty, but there was no goal for something better. Where did she see herself five years from now? Or ten? Alone? Did she intend to always manage a pie shop? Was that all she wanted out of life?

No. No. Getting the job in the real estate office had been a fluke, but that was where she’d discovered that she liked running a business. Maybe someday she’d like to run her own business. Whatever that might be, she didn’t know at this moment, but the idea was appealing. First, though, she wanted to secure a daddy for her sons. And tomorrow, she was going to make a plan.

The find-a-stepdaddy plan.

A
nxiety swirled through Andrea after she dropped the boys at school and headed for Big Sky Pie. She’d assured Lucas’s teacher that she’d have her cell phone on at all times if, for any reason, the school might need to call. Logan, of all people, told her not to worry, that he would keep an eye on his brother. Her heart ached that he was taking on the man-of-the-house role. He was a kid. His childhood shouldn’t be filled with grown-up responsibility, but she would allow him that duty for one more day. She hugged him and told him how proud she was of him.

She headed to work, not looking forward to facing Ice today, but to her relief, the Ice Berg Productions van was nowhere in sight. She parked a block away from the pie shop, enjoying the short walk through the mild, sunny morning that held a hint of autumn chill. Fall was her favorite season, but she’d been so self-absorbed the past couple of weeks that she hadn’t even noticed the leaves turning red and gold. Until now. Those glorious hues against the blue of the sky reminded her of some priceless oil painting locked behind museum walls, available only for those lucky folks within visiting range. But this was nature’s watercolor—real, tactile, and free for anyone who cared to notice. A smile stole across her face. She didn’t need to be rich or travel the world to find happiness or wealth. She could just look around. It was everywhere, and it was free.

Andrea entered the pie shop through the back door, feeling bolstered. A blast of pure sugary delight met her nose. It was like walking into a Halloween carnival where venders hawked caramel apples and pumpkin tarts.

“Andrea!” Jane, BiBi, and Molly sang out in unison.

The welcome chased away the last of her nerves, and that cold tight ball in her chest warmed. She smiled. If she should decide to leave the pie shop at some point for employment elsewhere, she would dearly miss this aromatic, affable environment. “Good morning, ladies. Looks like you’ve had a productive day already, and it’s not even nine thirty.”

“We have,” Molly assured her. “How are you, dear?”

“I could use some coffee. Can I get some for anyone else?”

Molly arched an eyebrow, a look that said,
You’re avoiding my question
, but she didn’t press the matter. “I’d like some, thank you. Decaf, please.”

“Me too,” BiBi said, peeling apples at the work sink by the row of windows, sunlight kissing her short hair. A piece of green apple peel stuck to her elbow. “But I want mine double jolt.”

“No coffee or tea, not even decaf. Doctor’s orders, until after this little one is born. And not even then if I decide to breast-feed—” Jane broke off, going bright pink. She licked her lips self-consciously. “How is Lucas?”

“He’s better. Back to school with Logan as his personal bodyguard in case anyone gives him flack.” Andrea tucked her hair behind her ear, her earlier anxiety leaking back and into her voice. She filled them all in on the past two days, on how Lucas would make a full recovery, and they shared their respective feelings of relief.

Molly made a cooing sound. “Those boys are so precious. I remember when Quint was little…” And she went off on a story about Quint and her late husband, Jimmy, going fishing and returning home to her sweet cherry pie.

“I broke my arm when I was a kid,” BiBi said, interrupting Molly’s story and earning herself a frown of displeasure. BiBi didn’t seem to catch that. She twisted toward Andrea, waving the peeler as she spoke. “It will heal fine. I can still remember, though, how that darned plaster cast itched.”

“I hear the new fiberglass ones aren’t nearly as uncomfortable,” Jane said, poking bits of caramel candy into the apple mix, and then braiding strips of dough over the top.

“And,” BiBi added, “you can get them in the sickest colors.”

“How are those apples coming?” Molly asked BiBi with a hint of annoyance.

It wasn’t like Molly to verbally snipe at anyone, and Andrea frowned. She suspected her boss was cranky about more than the assistant chef’s interruption. The stress of the economic loss of the fruit, the possible damage it could do to Big Sky Pie’s reputation, and dealing with insurance agents was more likely getting to her.

“Just about done,” BiBi said, giving the apples a last wash to remove any clinging peels.

Andrea left to get the requested coffee as well as her own. When she returned to the kitchen, BiBi was standing beside Molly, paring apples. BiBi said to Molly, “You were right, you know.”

“Of course I was…about what, dear?” Molly had her back to the work counter, putting a couple of pies into the ovens.

Bibi laughed. “I’ve been doing some unofficial apple pie taste-testing at various restaurants around town, and each and every time, the pies they serve are like eating half-cooked apple chunks. Al dente is great for veggies, or noodles, but not for fruit desserts. It’s like the chefs yank the pies from the oven too soon. Just like you said.”

“Well, how about that?” Molly smiled at Jane. “Some of what we’ve been teaching our assistant is getting through.”

Molly didn’t seem to notice BiBi stiffen, but it wasn’t lost on Andrea, and she jumped in to soothe the assistant pastry chef’s ruffled feathers. “Great observation, BiBi. That’s why our apple pies melt in your mouth.”

“Exactly,” Jane said, seemingly oblivious to the tension that hung in the kitchen. She finished crimping the edges of a lattice crust, brushed the top with an egg wash, and sprinkled a bit of cinnamon and sugar over it.
Tinkerbell spreading her special fairy dust.
It was another part of what made Big Sky Pie’s desserts taste so incredible.

Molly said, “We’ll make some turnovers with the apples you’re slicing now, BiBi.”

“Sweet.” BiBi no longer seemed to be feeling sweet, though, and a stilted quiet fell over the kitchen.

Andrea removed herself from the silent friction, retreating to the café to ready it for opening. Although she didn’t bake any of the treats sold in this shop, she felt as much a part of Big Sky Pie as those who did. She wanted every customer drawn here for the delightful desserts to be wowed by how clean and inviting the café was.

A cleaning crew came once a week for a thorough go-through, but Andrea started her mornings putting on clean tablecloths, making sure the seating and the floor were crumb-free, the display cases smudge-free. Satisfied with her handiwork, she readied the cash register, then refilled the napkin holders and the coffee condiments.

Molly came into the café, taking a short break. It was one of her eight-hour days, and weariness showed around her eyes, usually so bright, but at half-watt right now. “The plasterboard behind the freezer needs to be replaced.”

“I know.” Andrea stuck the bulk box of sweetener packets back into the supply cabinet behind the sales counter. “I ran into Wade the other night, and he mentioned he’d be checking it out for Quint.”

“He was here yesterday.” Molly refilled her coffee mug and sank onto the bench seat of the end booth. “It’s going to cost more than the deductible, but it needs to be done to prevent mold.”

Andrea refilled her mug and sat across from her. “I was afraid of that, but maybe we can make it up on the insurance for the produce.”

Molly screwed up her face. “That…that Charlie Mercer. I’d like to skin his hide. He’s coming over to haul that, that piece of junk to his shop and try to figure out why the motor cut out. The insurance agent insists.”

Andrea wasn’t surprised. “The agent has to justify our claim to the adjuster or underwriter, who has the final say before they’ll cut you a check.”

“I know. I’m just impatient.” Molly sipped her coffee, then set her cup down with a look as though something completely different had just occurred to her. “I just had a thought. Remember when we were talking about a fella for you last week or so?”

“Yes.” Andrea might have decided to instigate the find-a-stepdaddy plan, but she hadn’t had any time to think about prospective candidates. If Molly had some suggestions, maybe she needed to hear them. “I remember…”

“Well, I don’t think you could find a much better-looking one than that Wade Reynolds. Can’t understand why some woman hasn’t latched on to him by now. He’s been alone for such a long time.”

Wade? Andrea had never thought of him as anything more than, well, than Quint’s friend. “He isn’t really alone. He has Emily.”

“A preteen daughter? It’s not the same, dear.”

Andrea took a swallow of coffee. “I think Wade is still in love with Sarah. Not sure he’ll ever get over her.”

“That doesn’t mean he should be lonely the rest of his life.”

The same could be said for Molly. Andrea shrugged, rolling the idea of Wade as something other than a friend of a friend through her mind. The notion was so far off the wall…and yet… “I don’t think he’s interested in dating.”

Especially not in dating me.

“He’s just extremely shy.”

More than shy. He’d always sent out a “taken” vibe, and she’d respected that as only a woman can whose husband forgets his wedding vows before the ink dries on the marriage license. When it came down to it, though, Wade wasn’t her type. Not a bad-boy bone in his body. Safe was how she’d describe Wade, safe and steady. Reliable. A great father. A great stepfather perhaps? Definitely. Possibly.

But he didn’t turn her on.

And Ice turned her on too much. Lord, what would Molly think if she knew about her and Ice? The thought pinched already taut muscles. Wanting to placate her boss, Andrea said, “If I decide to look for someone with a mind toward my future, then I’ll seriously consider Wade, okay?”

“Good. You could do worse. A lot worse.”

The words burned through Andrea’s conscience. She had already done worse. Ice. An image of him naked, the blanket barely covering his most impressive assets, flooded her mind, sending tremors of want through her. Damn. Having sex with him should have ended her curiosity. Her attraction. So why did she feel so drawn to him still, as though there was so much more that she had to discover?

That she couldn’t let go dredged up a bad feeling. She hadn’t been able to let go of Donnie either, even though he’d betrayed her again and again. She’d stayed with him until he’d dumped her like so much rubbish. The old shame reared its ugly head, taunting her current self-esteem. She stared it down. She’d recovered. Fully.

As much as she might still be intrigued with Ice, sleeping with him was a mistake she would not repeat. Finishing her coffee, she caught the time. “Yikes. I should have had the door open five minutes ago.”

She scooted out of the booth, gave the display case one last glance, making sure the shelves were filled with a fresh array of pies, tarts, and cobblers, then started the CD player. The soft strumming of an acoustic guitar floated from the speakers. She hurried to the windows. As the louvers parted, sunlight swept into the café, filling the space with the final ingredient needed for that warm ambience.

Andrea worked the last window blind to find the most compelling blue eyes she’d ever seen peering in at her. She gasped and stumbled back a couple of steps, her heart tumbling in her chest like a washing machine on tilt. A curse word her daddy taught her flew out of her mouth and burned even her ears.

“What is it?” Molly asked, sounding as though Andrea had discovered a mouse running wild in the pie shop. Nope. Just one big rat.

Andrea glared at Ice, drawing a slight curl of his sexy lips, not a real smile, more like a private one that said they shared a secret. She went cold inside—hot and cold. “The film company is finally here.”

“That means Zoe can’t be far behind,” Molly moaned. She refilled her coffee. “Before the craziness starts…have you been in touch with Dean and Betty Gardener about our blueberry disaster?”

“Not yet.” Andrea pursed her lips. Giving and receiving bad news had freaked her out for as long as she could recall, though now that she thought about it, maybe it hadn’t been farther back, really, than the day of her mother’s breast cancer diagnosis. She was sixteen. That was the day she realized life could stop right in the middle of whatever plans or goals you’d been making. She’d watched her mother suffer through chemo and radiation, watched her father’s health suffer as her mother grew sicker. She’d decided then to grab the brass ring with both fists, to live her own life fast and hard, to appreciate every day.

Best-laid plans…

She shirked off the trip down
unpleasant
memory lane. “I hate giving people bad news, but—”

Ice walked in. The interruption annoyed her as much as his staring in the window had. Her words dried on her tongue. Just being in his vicinity scrambled her brains into hot mush while shivers of awareness danced a happy salsa. Why did he have to smell so darned much like sex on a stick? Walk with that panther gait? Look like nothing ever fazed him? The odd thought skipped across her mind like a ghost, barely there, but somehow distracting. Important? Was he solid ice inside? Or was that I-don’t-give-a-shit attitude a carefully formulated façade? Body armor to keep the world from seeing him for the man he really was?

She forced herself to concentrate on the information she needed to give her boss. “As much as I’d like to have that meeting over with and settled in our favor, Dean and Betty are still out of town at some floral shindig. They’re supposed to be home tomorrow. I plan to speak to them in person. I don’t want to break this news over the phone or in an e-mail. Tell me you have a backup plan that I can offer them.”

“I do. We can go over that before I head home.”

Relief loosened the grip it had on Andrea’s chest. “Good. I’ll do my best to keep from losing this gig, Molly. I promise.”

“I know you will, dear.” Molly gave her a big smile and patted her shoulder.

“Hey,” Ice butted in, “I want to go with Andrea when she meets with the Gardeners. I want to get their permission to include their story in the pilot footage.”

“What?” Molly’s brows lifted toward her spiky red hair, puzzlement in her widened eyes. “Why?”

Bobby came in with Flynn on his heels, catching just enough of the conversation to add, “It’ll give the pilot that ‘ahhh’ appeal. America will feel bad for the newlyweds. They can’t get enough of that sentimental crap.”