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

“I’ll do my best.” No words were spoken as he cleansed her with a tender hand. Comfort flowed between them as he silently tended her needs. When the water grew tepid, he sat back on his heels.

“Why don’t you towel off while I set out pajamas and make that cup of tea?”

“God, I left the blender on downstairs, the drawer still needs to be balanced, and the deposit dropped.”

“Once you’re settled, we’ll go down together, and I’ll take care of everything.” He smoothed her hair back from her hair.

“Alaric—”

“The last thing you need to do is count money right now.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to.” He rubbed her trembling bottom lip with his thumb. “Remember what I said about getting used to being cared for?”

She gave him a small smile. “Yeah.”

“I’ll get started on my part. You take as long as you want in here.”

He wrestled down the urge to stay when she skimmed her fingers over the darkening bruises. Don’t smother her. The last thing you need to do is come across as controlling right now. There was a thin line between control and care. Gathering her clothing, he tossed them into the hamper, removing the potential triggers.

In her bedroom, he laid out sleepwear and then moved to the kitchen. Grabbing her Sailor Moon mug, he brewed a kettle and made a honey-sweetened cup of tea. She walked out in her black cat pajamas and accepted the mug.

“Thank you.” They both knew it was for more than the drink.

“Any time. Why don’t you carry this down with you?”

“You want me to go like this?”

“Who’s going to see?”

Biting her lip, she considered it a moment before nodding.

Moving down the stairs, they entered the kitchen area first.

“My filling.” She turned to the bread wrapped up on a tray. “My roll,” she cried brokenly.

“You can remake it tomorrow.”

Huffing, she brought the mug to her lips.

“Don’t worry. I won’t steal your recipe.”

“You’d better not,” she scoffed, sounding more like herself.

“Do you want me to save this?” he asked, gesturing to the filling

“No, toss the filling. It’s beat to hell. The roll I’ll salvage to make a bread pudding.”

His mouth watered. “Any chance I’ll be sampling that?”

“Not until after the bake

off.”

He sighed. “I had to ask.”

Cleaning up, he moved to the front of the store where he removed the register, and they headed into the office. Seated at her desk, he found his mind returning to the incident. It took everything in him not to chase down the bastard and beat him to a bloody pulp. He’d folded like a cheap lawn chair the second he had to face another man. Even considering what Ryan might’ve done sent him into a blinding red rage.