His Innocent Cherry Pie: A Double Virgin Valentine

It's not just the way he's complimenting every single thing I made for this meal. It's his gentle nature. It's his confidence. It's his kindness. And I also acknowledge the fact he is incredibly handsome. I know he put on his finest clothes, and I appreciate the effort. He's handsome in ways I don't think I'm prepared for.

Cole smiles at the cherry pie at the bottom of the basket. “Now that looks like it took you a heck of a lot of time, Laura.”

I smile. “It did. My aunt Ella’s pies are amazing, so I used her crust recipe, which is perfectly flaky and light. Do you want to try it?”

“Do I want to try it?” Cole chuckles. “Of course I do.”

I hand him a fork and the pie plate.

"You want me to just dig in?" he asks.

“Sure. You paid a pretty penny for it.”

I set my hand down on the picnic blanket and it brushes his fingertips. I feel myself stiffen, pulling away, but it's instinct, not what I want. I want our hands to touch, our fingers to brush longer.

There's this conflicting thought in my mind that's saying no and yes at the same time. I want to be close to Cole, but I just told him I want to be friends.

Talk about mixed signals. God.

He’s holding his fork but hesitating.

“You can have as much of the pie as you want. You won it fair and square, and by a long mile.” I smile. “I can't believe you bid $2,000 on this food.”

“I'm a man who knows what he wants.”

“And what you wanted was cherry pie?”

Cole runs a hand over his jaw. “Yeah. I wanted some cherry pie all right.”

He looks at me, and that push and pull that I'm trying to fight, it bubbles up to the surface. I look away because when I look at him, into his eyes, I feel too many flutters. Too many desires. It overwhelms me.

He must sense the tension because he changes the topic.

“This pie reminds me of my mama. She was a good baker like you and your aunt Ella.”

"Where does she live now?" I ask him, taking a bite of the pie myself. It's sweet and tart and so damn good.

“I lost her to cancer a few years back. Been floating around Texas ever since, which is why I took this job at the ranch. I used some of the money left from my inheritance to get that land here on Meadowbrook Lane.”

“It's such a pretty area,” I say, looking over at the river. “How far down the road is your property?”

“Just a mile or so on the right. It's 10 acres, which is plenty.”

“I used to ride horses out here all the time.”

"Not anymore?" he asks me.

I shake my head. “No, I swore off horses when I swore off cowboys a few years back.”

"Why is that?" Cole asks. "I'm trying not to be offended, but I’ve gotta know," he says, "considering I'm a cowboy and all."

I lick my lips, setting down the fork, leaning back on the blanket with my hands behind me. I try to open up. “It's hard because this part of my story isn't one I talk about that much. My dad's a cowboy, has always been one. But he’s also a drunk. He'd leave me alone all the time growing up, and I'd fend for myself. When it got real bad, my aunt Ella would find out about it, and she'd come get me and bring me back here to her ranch for a few months or longer until my dad got himself sorted out.”

“And your mom, she was always gone?”

“I never knew my mom, which is something I try not to think about too much.”

"So why'd you keep going back to your dad, if you had a good place here at the ranch?" Cole asks.

I shrug. “He’s family, you know, and it's hard to give up on family. When my dad is in a good place, he is great. But when it's bad, it gets ugly.”

“Are you planning on going back to him again?”

“It's not that I go back to him. I'm 21 now, I'm a grownup, but there's always a part of me that wants to make space for him in my life because he's my father. He's my only family besides my aunt and uncle. But the last time I was home, it got real bad, and I got scared. That's why I came here a month ago, because I told myself I'm not going to keep going back to the same thing because nothing's changing.”

“Does he try to go to AA or rehab?”

“He's tried everything.”

“I’m so sorry,” he says softly. “That’s awful what you’ve been through.”

“I’m doing good now. I do the bookkeeping for the ranch. I have always been really good with numbers, and I took courses at the community college.”