Sprinkled with Love

He braced himself for her answer. The memory of Glenn claiming that Jillian was his girlfriend came to mind. Avery had hoped she would see through that man’s charade. He wasn’t good for her and if Avery could tell that within a couple of minutes of meeting him, he didn’t want to imagine the damage Glenn could do to Jillian’s life if given enough time.

She laced her fingers together. “No. Well, yes. You. We need to talk.”

Oh no. He knew that tone. He was in trouble. “Listen, about the raffle. I’m sorry. I didn’t know what the tickets were for. I thought I was just making a donation. I never thought I’d win. I didn’t want to win. I just wanted to make a contribution to Harry’s House.”

Jillian waved off his explanation. “You don’t have to apologize. But I do. I overreacted.”

What? Had he heard her correctly? She was apologizing?

She moved into the living room and sat down on the chair. “I thought I had put everything in the past—the rumors about us—the expectations that we’d get married—all of it. You know how small this town is. And I’m sure you couldn’t avoid all of the gossip while I was working for you. Everyone thought we were the up-and-coming ‘it’ couple.”

He’d ignored it at the time. It had been so much easier. He’d had so many responsibilities back then that he couldn’t take on any more. But he couldn’t lie to Jillian. And he couldn’t hide from the truth any longer.

“I heard the rumors. But I ignored them and figured the people repeating them had too much time on their hands.”

“And now they are talking again.” Jillian frowned.

“Because I won the honeymoon suite?”

Jillian nodded. “That and because we’re spending so much time together.”

Avery’s thoughts turned to her relationship with Glenn. Avery was certain Glenn wouldn’t have been happy about the raffle win or the gossip. Avery considered inquiring about him but decided he wouldn’t like the answer. After all, Glenn appeared to be well enough off by the looks of his clothes and the car. He could offer Jillian a good life. And if Avery couldn’t purchase the ranch, he wouldn’t have anything to offer Jillian. He’d be heading back out on the rodeo circuit.

Avery gave some consideration as to how best to handle this situation. He could only come up with one answer and he didn’t like it. “I don’t want to cause you more problems. I’ll be going.”

“No. Don’t. You can stay.”

“I think it’s better that I go. This way the gossip will die down. I never meant for anything like this to happen. I don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea and make this worse for you.” He just couldn’t bring himself to mention Glenn’s name.

“I mean it. Stay. I shouldn’t let what people say bother me so much.”

He was torn between staying and going. But when he looked into her eyes and saw the open honesty in them, his decision was made. “Then we better get to work. I don’t know anything about making a caramel apple pie except that I enjoy eating it.”

So they set to work. Once the apples were peeled, cored, and soaking, they got to work on the crust. He quickly learned there were only a handful of ingredients: butter, flour, salt, and water. It sure seemed simple enough, at the time.

With Jillian working next to him, he watched as she cut the butter into the flour and salt. He did the same until the mixture resembled coarse crumbs. And then they added the icy cold water, a tablespoon at a time until the dough formed a smooth ball.

He smiled at Jillian. “I think I’ve got it.”

“Now for the next important step, rolling out the dough for the crust.”

Okay. He had no idea what that entailed. But Jillian had thought ahead and borrowed her mother’s rolling pin so she could show him what to do. She went first and explained everything she was doing and then he tried it.

It took a few tries to get the rolling motion down. He spent a lot of time making the dough even. But when he went to lift it, the middle was completely stuck to the counter.

“Oh no,” Jillian said. “You don’t have enough flour on the counter to keep it from sticking.”

He gathered the dough, cleaned the counter, spread a liberal amount of flour over the counter, and tried again. He’d keep trying like he had with the cookies until he got it. And this time he wouldn’t let himself get distracted at the competition like he had with the butter and let it burn. When the two pies were assembled, they slid them in the oven. Avery breathed a sigh of relief.

By the time the pies came out of the oven, the dishes were washed up and he was getting tired. Who knew that baking could be such hard work?

“Well, now that those are done, I should get out of your way,” he said.

“They aren’t done.”

“They aren’t?”

She shook her head. “Well, the pie is but you aren’t. This is a baking competition so you’re going to want to make the top of the pie as appealing as possible. We’ll work on making a lattice top when you come over for your next lesson on Wednesday.”