If I thought my crush on him when he was just a teenage boy was strong, it has nothing on the force of desire for which I crave the adult Maverick now. When I was four, Maverick six, I thought he was the most beautiful boy, wishing he’d chase after me and pull on my long, swinging braid like all the boys who liked the other girls at school did. When I was ten, even his awkward preteen stage couldn’t disguise his rugged good looks. When I turned fourteen, he started filling out his shirts, and my dreams changed into fantasies.
I learned how to beat it back when I turned sixteen, him eighteen, and I realized that the ugly duckling I was would never be able to compete with the girls he was always with, but just because I ignored how much I wanted him doesn’t mean that the feelings died. Which is probably why his words hurt me as much as they did back then, because they told me I was right: I would never be what he wanted.
Best to remember that now, because the man he’s become sets me ablaze hotter than an out-of-control wildfire, and if I don’t beat those flames back, he might have the power to consume me until nothing but ash remains.
And I, Leighton James, am better than that.
7
LEIGHTON
“Crash and Burn” by Thomas Rhett
Jana Fox, the best employee in the world, is already at the PieHole when I speed into the back lot and slide into my parking spot next to the Dumpster. Her hot pink VW Beetle is pulled up to the backside of the building, and she’s holding the back door open with a small smile on her pretty face. Jana’s been with me since the day we opened the doors at the PieHole. I honestly couldn’t imagine walking through these doors without her being with me.
“I told you when you called five minutes ago not to rush, Leigh. I’ve been here since before the service let out. Everything had already been put out, except for the pumpkin. Apple slices are already dished, and in the warming shelf, pumpkin has about a minute left before I can pull and slice, then shelve. You needed a second, honey, and I have it under control.”
“What would I do without you?” I ask before giving her a hug. She came into my life at the perfect time, filling that motherly role that I had been feeling the void of for way too long. Not only that, but the woman can whip up a damn good pie, and she’s played no small part in putting the PieHole well on the map.
Her arms come up and I breathe in the familiar and soothing smells of my bakery mixed with her perfume and I soak up the comfort she’s offering. I really don’t know what I would do without the quirky older woman in my life.
She rubs my back for a few treasured seconds before pulling away. “Come on, little one, let’s go get finished.”
We walk through the short hallway and I toss my purse in my office before entering the large kitchen area. The smells swirling around the room bring the first unforced smile in days to my lips. Yeah, this right here—this moment of lighthearted happiness is exactly why I spend so much time right here in the PieHole’s kitchen.
Walking over to one of the four industrial refrigerators and two huge freezing units, I smile when I see them.
Twenty of Buford Davis’s favorite pie greeting me.
I can’t remember when I started putting my TIC, Twix ice-cream pies, on the shelves, but I will never forget the day that grumpy Buford called my shop and demanded, “Get your hide over with a slice before I’m forced to go graze with the fillies.” They started off as something I was playing with. I had been looking for a way to make some frozen style pies and they just kind of happened by accident. From that moment on, whenever I would go over to their house, I made sure I had a whole pie just for him. He never thanked me. Never offered anything other than a wink before grabbing the whole pie, a fork, and sitting back down in his chair for hours of watching the Game Show Network.
It wasn’t his thanks that I was after, though. It was times like that, when he forgot how angry and bitter he was, when he would give us the rare glimpse of the Buford people rarely saw. The one that carried his regret-filled life like a battlefield of anger. He showed his frailty in those moments. His fear. His loneliness. And his guilt. He worked damn hard to change things around before the end of his life and, while two of his children had forgiven him, no one ever forgot.
I swipe at the tear that escapes and pull two pies out before moving to the stainless steel island in the middle of the room. Jana gives me a sad smile before pulling some of our purple plates out of the cabinet above the island and lining them up for me to place slices on.
“You sure you don’t want me to pull the cookie dough pies you made this mornin’?” she asks, methodically moving the plates I had already placed a slice of the TIC pie on, before shuffling the empty ones in their place, the two of us moving in sync like a well-oiled machine.
“No. Tonight is just about the Davises, and the only pies I’m servin’ are their favorites. No one will think to argue. Not today.”
Little wrinkles pop up between her brow, but she nods, her gray curls bouncing with her movement. “You’re probably right, honey. Plus, ain’t a soul around that doesn’t know those Davises love their pies. I think Clay has apple staining his shirt at least once a week.” She lets out a soft laugh, the sound like bells chiming around us.
“Maybe I need to have a bib made up,” I joke.
We finish plating thirty or so pieces of the TIC pie and start to move them to the chill box display in the main room. I look around, seeing the lavender walls, black round tables scattered throughout the floor, vases of daisies perched on each one, and smile.
When I first opened the PieHole, I had a tiny shop right off Davis Street, not far from the center of town, but it was perfect for what I needed. Until the word started to spread about my pies, and the next thing I knew, I had to turn people away because I couldn’t keep up with the demand.
Having been wise with the money that I inherited over the years and living a frugal life, apart from the house remodel, I turned an already healthy chunk of change into a mountain of it. After being open for two years, I was able to move into one of the empty, larger shops on Main Street. You couldn’t go anywhere in Pine Oak without driving through Main Street, and it turned my already thriving business into a monster success.
The kitchen took up a good bit of space, but when I renovated the old BBQ restaurant, I made sure to use only the necessary amount of space for my kitchen, leaving an office that felt more like a large closet at times, but it was important to me that the main area be large and welcoming.
The back wall is lined with specialty made cooling and heating displays that lead to the register in the middle. At the end of each display there’s a small swing door that allows us into the dining area. The black hardwood and black tables are the only things in the room that aren’t a shade of purple.