Pies and Prejudice (26 page)

On Tuesday morning, Ella Mae considered waking her mother up to ask her about what she’d seen, but decided against it. Assuming she’d have customers to serve in a few hours, she loaded Chewy in her bike basket and began the long trek to work.

“I’ve got to buy a car,” she said upon reaching Swallowtail Avenue.

Though the summer sun had yet to climb over the horizon, the air was far from cool. The humidity had already descended upon Havenwood and it wasn’t long before tendrils of hair began to stick to the back of Ella Mae’s neck. The shade in The Charmed Pie Shoppe’s patio area was heavenly and she couldn’t help but take a moment to rest at
one of the umbrella tables. Drinking in the scents and colors of the garden, she marveled over her mother’s ability to blend a dozen different varieties of red and golden flowers with lush clusters of herbs. The aroma on the patio was both sharp and sweet.

“A little early for a coffee break, isn’t it?” a male voice teased, startling both Ella Mae and Chewy. The terrier bared his teeth and growled until Hugh Dylan dropped to his knees and held out his hands, palms up, for Chewy to inspect. “Sorry, little man. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Ella Mae watched her dog smelled Hugh’s fingers with interest. After issuing a sniff of forgiveness, he pivoted his body, inviting Hugh to pet him.

Hugh smiled at Chewy and then looked at Ella Mae. “Since you weren’t able to visit Canine to Five, I thought I’d come and invite him to spend the day with Dante.” He waved at the shop. “I know you’ve got an enclosure behind the kitchen, but today’s going to be a scorcher. He’d be better off at the center. The staff will take great care of him.”

“That’s really sweet of you,” she said. “I’ve been dumping poor Chewy on my mother too much, but every time I thought about heading over to Canine to Five…” She trailed off. “Let’s just say that things haven’t been going as planned.”

Hugh rose to his feet and moved across the patio. He took the seat opposite her and glanced around at the garden, his expression somber. “I heard about Annie Beaufort from a kid who works at Canine to Five. He went to her ranch and will tell anyone how Annie and the horses saved him. She made a difference in someone’s life every day. I wish I could be more like that.”

Ella Mae felt a rush of sorrow. “Me too. And I’m worried about the fate of Respite Ranch. How will it survive?” She stared woefully at the border of marigolds at the edge of the patio.

“Maybe Annie’s sister will take over.” Hugh’s gentle tone
coaxed Ella Mae into meeting his brilliant blue gaze. “Hey, now. You can’t blame yourself.”

“Sure I can,” Ella Mae retorted more sharply than she’d intended. “I put her life at risk the day I drove to her place and pressured her to talk to me. It was total selfishness on my part. I figured that if she had information that could clear my name, then I had to do anything in my power to get it.”

“Was she able to help you?”

Unsure of how much to divulge to Hugh, Ella Mae sighed heavily. “Clues. Theories. I shared them with the police last night, but still I’m not off the hook. Annie was killed in
my
shop. Right on the other side of that pink front door.”

Glancing beyond the riot of climbing roses, Hugh said, “Are you allowed to open for business today?”

“Yes. There wasn’t much evidence to be gathered, I’m afraid.”

Stretching his arm farther across the table, Hugh took her hand. He wrapped his fingers around hers and squeezed, his eyes becoming electric with intensity. “If you’re scared to go inside, I’ll come with you.” He stood up and pulled her to his feet. “In fact, why don’t you give me an apron? I’ve decided to be your shadow until closing time. Just give me five minutes to run Chewy over to Canine to Five so he can go swimming and make some new friends.”

Ella Mae readily accepted his offer. Hugh scooped Chewy into his arms, held the dog out so she could kiss him good-bye, and then strode off to a mud-encrusted Ford Explorer parked along the curb.

“I hope I can concentrate with him in the same room,” Ella Mae murmured, her heart going rabbit-fast as she pictured Hugh rolling out piecrust, his strong hands covered in flour, bare forearms flexing as he caressed the dough, coaxing it into the pan and running his fingertips over its delicate skin. “Get ahold of yourself,” she said and unlocked the kitchen door.

Switching on the overhead lights and the radio, Ella Mae
retrieved ingredients from the walk-in and began to press chilled balls of pie dough into pans.

Outside the kitchen window the sky turned a dusty lilac. The scent of butter floated through the room, intertwining with tart fruit aromas and the sharp tang of aged cheddar and Parmesan. The shop had shrugged off the shadows of the previous day and Ella Mae felt her flagged spirits being restored by the kitchen’s warmth.

She sang while pressing dough into pie pans, influenced by the theme of fearlessness running through the morning’s selection of songs. Just as she threw back her head to hit a particularly high note, which ended up coming out rather flat, Hugh walked in the back door.

Instead of laughing at her, he joined in. Grabbing her flour-dusted hands, he pulled her toward him. He didn’t seem to notice that her apron was covered in flakes of dough, fruit juice, sprinkles of dill, and bits of shaved cheese as he waltzed her around the worktable as if they were at a ball.

For a heartbeat, Ella Mae was in heaven. This was her prom dream come true. True, she wore Keds and khaki shorts instead of a gown of shimmering green, but the boy she’d longed to dance with was dancing with her. He smelled of apples and the cool water of the swimming hole, and his hand melted perfectly into the small of her back. It was as if her body had been formed specifically for one man, this man, to be able to hold her like this.

Heaven.

But the thought of proms brought Loralyn to mind. Ella Mae spun away from Hugh, putting the commercial-sized mixing bowl between them.

“Why did you really come today?” she asked, her eyes going gray with suspicion. “It wasn’t just for Chewy, was it?”

Hugh was clearly taken aback by her abrupt change in mood. “I wanted to do something to help you.”

“Aren’t you with Loralyn?”

“She’s my friend. We’re not a couple.” He picked up a
pomegranate from the colander in the sink and examined it quizzically. Lightly juggling the fruit from hand to hand, he continued talking. “She and I go way back. Just like you and I do, but I never got to know you when we were younger, Ella Mae. You kept to yourself. Loralyn was my first crush and you never really forget that person. They always own a piece of your heart.” Two pink spots bloomed on his cheeks, transforming him into the boy Ella Mae had wanted so badly for such a long time. “She and I sometimes end up…together. But it’s never serious and she’s never between husbands long.” He put the fruit down and locked eyes with her. “Was your husband your first crush?”

It was no surprise that Hugh knew she was married. After all, they lived in a very small town. But Ella Mae was so crestfallen by his raising the subject of her husband that she couldn’t answer for a moment. Lining a pie shell with apple slices, she wondered if she should tell Hugh the truth—that she’d been in love with him since she was thirteen years old.

“No,” she answered eventually. “Sloan was my ticket out of here.” She sprinkled cinnamon over the apples. “Wait, that came out wrong. I didn’t use him. I loved him, but there was always something missing between us. But that doesn’t matter anymore because it’s over.”

Hugh gave her a little smile. “Now that we’ve cleared the air on our exes, can you give me a job so I don’t feel completely useless?” He brandished the pomegranate. “Just don’t ask me how to get the seeds out of this. That’s way beyond my abilities.”

Ella Mae would have liked to bluntly ask Hugh if he wanted to be her friend or if he was interested in something more, but she wasn’t sure if she was ready to hear his answer. Besides, she had to concentrate on cooking.

“Could you fry some pancetta and ham for me?”

Hugh looked perplexed. “Pancetta?”

Handing him a package and gesturing at the bouquet of
shining pots hanging from a ceiling rack, she said, “It’s Italian bacon.”

He smiled. “My favorite food group. I can’t guarantee you’ll have any leftovers, but I promise to take home the bacon, fry it up—”

“Don’t even finish that line!” Ella Mae ordered with a laugh and smacked at his thigh with a kitchen towel.

He feigned injury. “So
this
is how you treat your staff? And I thought cleaning up dog poop was degrading.”

The pair worked together for the next two hours. Ella Mae told Hugh about culinary school and life in Manhattan and he spoke of his travels. After graduating from college, he’d become interested in genealogy and had visited the homelands of his ancestors. His wanderlust satisfied, he returned to Havenwood and became a firefighter. Four years after he joined the department, he rescued Dante from a burning house. Dante’s owner was too badly injured to care for the dog and Hugh and the Harlequin Dane had been together ever since.

As they compared childhood memories of school, the swimming hole, and town landmarks, the kitchen filled with golden sunbeams, laughter, and the scent of baking pies.

“Hey!” Hugh exclaimed shortly before Reba was due to arrive. “Am I dreaming or are you mixing together ingredients for a shoofly pie?”

Picking up a bottle of King syrup, Ella Mae nodded. “I couldn’t make it like your granny did using molasses. I had to send away for some northern syrup.”

Hugh abandoned his task of washing lettuce and stepped next to her. He was so close that their shoulders brushed when Ella Mae moved her arms.

“Can I watch or will it break the spell?” he whispered.

“I’ll do my best not to mix in any eggshells,” she murmured, her voice becoming deep and husky against her will. Luckily, the filling was an uncomplicated blend of syrup,
water, baking soda, eggs, cinnamon, and cloves. The traditional shoofly pie recipes didn’t always include the last two ingredients, but Ella Mae wanted to add an extra burst of flavor to Hugh’s pie. As she stirred, she could feel a tide of desire flow from her body into the grain of her wooden spoon.

Adding measures of flour, brown sugar, and butter to the bowl of her food processor, she pulsed the mixture until it had formed the perfect crumb topping. Scooping the crumbs with her fingers, she spread them across the surface of the dark brown filling. It was difficult to keep her hands steady when all she wanted to do was look into Hugh’s eyes. Would she find a reflection of her own need in his blue green pools?

As though sensing her longing, Hugh slipped directly behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “I could watch you bake all day. It’s hypnotizing.”

Now she did turn. Their bodies were so close that only a sliver of air and light separated them. The edge of the worktable dug into Ella Mae’s back, encouraging her to press a centimeter nearer. Hugh placed a rough palm against her cheek and then let his fingers slowly travel down her jaw- line to the tip of her chin, igniting her skin. “I’ve been wanting to do this since I first saw you,” he murmured and then leaned in to kiss her.

Hugh’s warm, wet mouth found hers and she felt a tingle of heat spread over her lips. She closed her eyes, welcoming the slow burn that had sparked within her chest and was now sweeping across her shoulders, down the staircase of her spine, over the slope of her hips, and between her thighs.

Suddenly, the heat intensified, assaulting her nerve endings with a jolt of pain. She jerked back and so did Hugh. They stared at one another in astonishment, lips swollen from kissing, their shallow breaths falling into the space that now stretched like an abyss between them.

Ella Mae had no chance to ask Hugh if he’d felt the same pain, for the sound of Reba’s whistling preceded her entry through the kitchen door.

“Howdy!” she greeted the flummoxed pair, acting unsurprised to find Hugh Dylan at the pie shop. She hung her purse in the closet where the cleaning supplies were kept, tied on her apron, and began to scrub her hands at the sink. “I hope your baker’s racks are full, my girl,” she called over the sound of the water. “You’ve got folks lined up already. Looks just like openin’ day out front.”

Smoothing the fabric of her own apron where it had bunched together against Hugh’s cotton T-shirt, Ella Mae tried to release the electricity coursing through her by grabbing the shaker filled with ground cinnamon and sprinkling the surface of the shoofly pie with it, but she could still feel the friction of Hugh’s body. Each crystal of sugar was charged with lust, landing on the pie’s crumb topping one by one until the pie pulsed with a sheen of abandoned inhibition. Ella Mae slid it into the oven and set to work pouring the shoofly filling into a dozen more shells.

Reba was right. Not only were curiosity seekers waiting to have breakfast at The Charmed Pie Shoppe, but patrons who’d eaten there on Saturday had also returned to sample different dishes.

Hugh offered to play hostess and to handle the takeout orders. According to Reba, he responded to lighthearted ribbing from the townsfolk about trading in his fireman’s uniform for a “woman’s” apron with good-natured wisecracks. However, when a sour-faced matron asked him how he felt about working alongside a potential murderer, Hugh’s expression darkened and his peacock blue eyes flashed dangerously.

“If your intention is to blacken Ella Mae’s name, Mrs. Buckland, you can turn right around and leave. I’d be more than happy to sell this sweet, succulent strawberry pie to another customer.”

Reba was grinning from ear to ear as she recited this story. “That hag fell all over herself apologizin’ and ended up buyin’ two pies! After that, our friendly fireman got rid
of two reporters by sayin’ that you weren’t available until after five, but you’d be more than willin’ to talk to them then.”

“But we close at four, right after afternoon tea!” Ella Mae said and then laughed.

Reba joined in. “Those newspaper boys aren’t too good at research. They didn’t even bother checkin’ the sign in the window. Our hours of operation are right there. What jackasses.”