I Only Have Pies for You (Pumpkin Spice Life 1)

“It was my pleasure. So, I’ll see you at eight?” The slight air of uncertainty that crept into his voice made up her mind.

A man like this doesn’t come around every day. To hell with them. I owe it to myself to see if he is who he appears to be. “Yes, I live above the shop,” she replied.

“Alright, then. ’Til tonight.”

They climbed down off the platform, and she saw him to the door, watching as he walked away with a small wave. Could things be starting to look up finally?

ALARIC

I can’t believe I actually have a date. It’d been forever and a day since he took a woman out. In a town this small, being seen out and about with someone was kin to setting a date to walk down the aisle in the future at his age. With Rosaleen, he didn’t feel that pressure. She intrigued him. A woman who could move away from everything she knew and chase down her dream was one he needed to know better. Her humor, openness, and yes, her beauty added to her mystery.

Her heart-shaped face, thick curls, and those large, brown eyes called to him. Smooth sienna skin covered her petite frame. Despite her small stature, he had a feeling she was a serious powerhouse. She’d dished back everything he’d given with a sly smirk. Rosaleen Plath was certainly worth setting tongues wagging. He’d been waiting to find a woman who piqued his interested. For too long, it’d been work, the gym, and hanging with his friends. It hadn’t escaped his attention that he’s one of the few not married at thirty-five.

He was open to marriage. A family was high on his to-do list, but only if he could have what his parents did. A true partnership. They complemented one another. His father’s weak points were his mother’s strengths and vice versa. They had their fights, but it was always clear neither were headed anywhere else. He’d never felt that kind of deep bond with anyone else. Not even Kasey, who he dated for three years. It got to the point where he had to cut the cord or propose. It hurt, but not as much as an empty marriage would.

Staring at himself in the mirror, he combed his hair back out of his face. Nerves had struck. She wasn’t a small-town girl. Born in a bigger city and used to a faster pace, she might find him as dull as a doorknob. He’d done an apprenticeship in lieu of college, and he didn’t pay too much attention to celebrities. What if we don’t have a damn thing in common? Exchanging a few quick-witted lines wasn’t the same as entertaining her the entire night. He hadn’t been this nervous about a date since he was in high school. Woman’s already making me sweat. He smiled. Damned if I don’t like it.

Turning from the mirror, he moved to pick out his outfit. Men worried about the impressions they made, too. He didn’t want to look as if he was trying too hard. After pitching tonight as a welcoming committee, he’d have to feel her out before he assumed she was interested in him. He opted for a pai

r of newer jeans, a white T-shirt, and a light blue plaid he knew brought out his eyes. A splash of Cool Water later, he was out the door of his four-bedroom, two-bathroom ranch style home. Climbing into his gray SUV, he scanned the seats and console for miscellaneous debris. He’d taken it by the local car wash to vacuum it out before he came home, and even splurged on a new car scented air freshener.

Making the twenty-minute drive, he cranked up Thomas Rhett. Once he arrived at her home, he parked in the back and walked to the backdoor. Knocking, he waited for her to come down. Her off-the-shoulder maroon and black striped shirt with a ruffle contrasted with the black jeans hugging her curves. Her curly hair tumbled around her shoulders, framing her face. Kohl-lined lids brought out the rich brown hue of her eyes.

“Well aren’t you as pretty as a picture.”

“Coming from anyone else, hero, that’d be corny.”

“Just calling them like I see ’em.” He winked. “Are you ready?”

“I am.” She stepped outside, then locked the door, and he offered his arm. Her muscles flexed as she slipped her am through his. Subtly, he admired her long neck and shapely collarbone. If she partook of the goodies she baked, she was working them off in her downtime, ’cause sugar had never done a body that good.

Inside of the car, he drummed up a conversation.

“When do you plan to open up shop?” he asked as he pulled out of the parking lot.

“September first. The advertising will start circulating later this week.”

“I’ll keep my eyes peeled for them. Any particular music request?” he asked, eager to learn more about her.

“I listen to a little bit of everything.”

We have that much in common.

Turning on the playlist on his iPod, he hummed along to Panic at the Disco, shocked when she sang along.

“You like Panic?” he asked.

“Oh yeah, they’re one of my favorites. I saw them so many times when I was in college.”

“Me too. I’d kill to see them now. This album has been fantastic.”

“I know, and I agree. I haven’t had a chance to catch them on tour recently either.”

“Okay if you like Panic, what did you think of My Chemical Romance and Taking Back Sunday?”

“You are spinning the soundtrack to my youth,” Rosaleen crowed.

“Mine too.”