Confessions from the Quilting Circle - Maisey Yates Page 0,71
and for a moment she wondered if he was looking for Emma, since Emma was his employee.
But...no.
No. It wouldn’t be Emma.
He was looking for Rachel. She didn’t know why she knew that, only that she did.
“Hi,” she said. “My sister mentioned that you have terrible pie.”
“Okay,” he said. “As opening lines go, that’s a strange one.”
“It’s on-topic.”
“Is it?” he asked.
“Yes. I would like to offer to make pie for you.”
“Me personally?” He pressed his hand against his chest.
“No. Although, we can start with that, if you want. I want to make pie for the diner. You don’t have a pastry chef. And I make a lot of pie, anyway. I do it for the lighthouse. It could be beneficial. For both of us. I can leave a card down here. If people like the food, maybe they’ll consider coming to the bed-and-breakfast.”
“I don’t know what to tell you, and I hate to disappoint you. But I don’t exactly get a lot of tourists in here. This is kind of a regular hangout.”
“But what if people hear you have amazing pie? Then it might become a tourist hangout.”
“See,” he said, “that mostly scares me.”
“You’re a big guy. I don’t actually think anything scares you that much.”
She didn’t know Adam well, but she could see the ripple of charged emotion that went through his body before he tipped up his lips into an overly casual smile. “I’ve never liked spiders.”
“Well, my pies are not spiders. And tourists aren’t spiders, either. I just... I don’t have much to do right now. And I will literally make you pie at cost. Just...give it a chance. Give it a try. Nobody else is going to take my pie, Adam. And, honestly, if I were you I might hide who’s making it first.”
“Why?”
She rolled her eyes. “Please. No one’s going to want any of your whore pie.”
“Is that a kind of pie...?” He grimaced. “Because, I have to admit, it doesn’t sound that appealing.”
“No. You know... I’m not exactly well loved around here right now.”
He let out a gruff sigh. “Look. I try to pretend that I don’t hear any of the gossip around here. Mostly because I don’t ever want to be asked to engage in it. Also, I don’t care what anyone says.”
“Why not?”
“Because people are jerks. And...it’s none of my business.”
“Yeah. But...still.”
“I don’t care.” He slung the dishcloth from one shoulder to the other. “And, yes, I will carry your pie. I’ll put your name on it. I don’t especially mind what anyone says.”
“Well, people might say things. You do need to be aware of that.”
“The people here? They all go to the community church, and they don’t like the big fancy one, anyway. They think your husband is too shiny. That he’s selling a bill of goods. They think anyone who can fill that many church seats can’t be a shade too far above a scam-artist televangelist.”
For some reason, that made Anna bristle. “Well, I don’t think that’s true. He’s sincere in what he says, in what he believes. He’s not scamming anyone, believe me.”
“That is probably a bit more generous than you need to be. But again. I don’t actually care. About gossip. I do care about pie. And you’re right. Mine is terrible. Luis makes a good hamburger but he makes a pretty damned awful crust. So...yeah. Let’s do it. I can get a pastry case and stick the whole ones out here, make a big deal out of it.”
“Don’t do that. I don’t want charity pie.”
“It’s mutual charity. Isn’t it?” He rubbed his chin. “Actually, we’re exchanging money, so it’s just mutual business.”
“You’re all right, do you know that?”
He smiled. “You only say that because you don’t talk to me very often.”
“So...when. When should I bring the pie?”
“Whenever. Whenever you have one done.”
“I can bring them tomorrow.”
“Great.” He turned and started to walk into the kitchen. Then he paused. “How’s Rachel?”
“She’s...” She looked at his back for a moment. And while she paused, he turned to face her again and that fleeting thought she’d had earlier felt confirmed as she noticed the way the lines around his mouth deepened when he said her sister’s name.
She cleared her throat. “I didn’t think you did gossip.”
“I don’t.” He crossed his arms again, rocking back on his heels.
“You could ask her how she is. I’m sure she would appreciate it.”
“I actually don’t think she would. I think she likes it when I don’t ask.”