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

“You can’t keep a good woman down. I’m still keeping busy. Are you here to support Alaric?”

“Always. But I’m also here to enter the contest.”

“Shame on you, keeping this to yourself, Alaric,” his mother scolded.

“I didn’t know.”

“I had no plans of joining until my employees urged me to.”

“Oh, it makes sense given your profession,” his mother said with an understanding nod. “It’s too bad that you’ll be our top competition. The Bulleys have held the title for the past five years, and I plan on keeping it that way, darling.”

“Mom.” Embarrassed, he shook his head.

“It’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with a little friendly rivalry,” Rosaleen said, seeking to soothe him. He nodded, apologizing with his gaze.

“She’s right, honey. Now, stop fraternizing. Until the competition is over, I’m afraid Alaric is going to have to be off limits.”

He sputtered. “M-Mom, really?”

“She understands. We’re up against enough odds as it is.”

Dumbfounded, Rosaleen glanced from his mother to him, seeming to ask, Is she serious? Nodding mutely, she watched as his mother hobbled toward the table.

“I’m sorry. I’ll call you tonight,” he said as he followed in her wake. Her lips twitched, and he watched as she doubled over in boisterous laughter. At least one of us thinks this is funny. Turning his attention to his mom, he mentally counted to ten. She might be tiny, but her personality was anything but, and she’d channeled all her energy into this contest. When she wasn’t quizzing him on how to make the best loaf of bread, she was showing him a potential recipe for their pumpkin pie.

“You don’t think that was a bit much?” he asked dryly as he grabbed the papers and they headed back to their table.

“We’ve never had a competitor like her. I can’t have you letting those big, brown eyes distract you.”

“I know how important this is to you, Mom. I promise I’m going to give it my best. But Rosaleen is a close friend. I don’t want her feeling insulted.”

“We find inspiration in everything around us. I’m sure your friend is a lovely lady, but this is war, and you could unwittingly share things with each other. It’s not personal, baby.”

When I’m with Rosaleen, the last thing I’m thinking about is baking.

“I get it. But still, overkill.”

“Hmm.” She studied him carefully before she eased her way into the chair.

“Growing up, I always envied the women who became the Pumpkin Queen. Seeing them riding through the town, waving in their sash and lighting the bonfire was etched into my brain. It really signals the start of fall to me. It was my secret wish for years to join their ranks.” She smiled. “I never thought my baking was up to par, so I never tried.

“Five years ago, I figured what do I have to lose? Imagine my surprise when I won.” Her face lit up. “When you get older, you move into a different season of your life. Carving out a new identity and finding new things to look forward to can be

difficult.”

“Baking gave you a new voice,” he said, empathetic of her passion.

She nodded. “I love all the duties that come along with the title. For a small time, I’m the town’s ambassador. For a few months after, I’m on cloud nine.”

Her words explained so much. His gut twisted. He didn’t want to let her down or steal the spotlight Rosaleen desperately needed for her business to flourish. There were no easy answers. Rosaleen appeared amused so far, but he wondered when that would change. Why didn’t she tell me the minute she decided? There has to be a good reason.

“Thank you for sharing that with me, Mom.”

“Thank you for listening to an old lady prattle on about her interests.”

“Stop it. You’re not old.” He spotted Rosaleen walking toward the hall in his peripheral vision. “I’ll be right back. I need to use the little boys’ room.” Excusing himself, he walked as fast as he could without drawing strange looks.

Seeing her disappear, he called out, “Hey.”