There.” She faced Parker. “Now about your job at the pie shop. I’d like your new duties to start today.”

“You are…”

Ava lifted an eyebrow.

“Something,” he finally finished. Then he turned away from her and shut the coffeepot off and started wiping the counter.

He knew she was waiting for some kind of blow up, or argument, or at least a what in the hell are you talking about? And he knew that it would drive her crazy for him not to give her any of that.

Ava went back to her table and grabbed her notebook, then boosted herself up on one of the stools at the counter and said, “I’m going to overlook the past three months of paying you for doing nothing. We’ll just start from today.”

She was definitely something. He just didn’t have a word for it. He’d never met a woman like Ava Carmichael. Most of the women in and around Bliss were sweet and accommodating and seemed to want him to be happy and in a good mood when he was with them. Ava didn’t give one fuck about if he was happy or about his mood. As evidenced by the fact that she continually did things that made him scowl and grumble.

“Or we could say those paychecks covered all the stuff you’ve been stealing from me for the past three and a half months,” he said.

She rolled her eyes. “Borrowing.”

“Borrowing?” he repeated. “I haven’t seen any payment or replacement of any of those items.”

“I’ll buy you a dozen eggs and a bag of sugar next trip to the grocery store.”

“First, you don’t go to the grocery store. Second, that isn’t even close to what you owe me.”

“Well, it’s not like I’ve been counting every egg.”

Okay then. Parker headed for the kitchen and the corkboard he had up on the wall next to the pantry.

She kept talking. “And how do you know I don’t go to the grocery store?”

He came back through the door and handed her a piece of paper. “Because Mr. Tomkins noticed that I was buying a lot more eggs and butter than usual and he guessed it was for you. He also told me that they teased you when you came in there three times in one day and that he hadn’t seen you since.”

Ava blew out a breath as she looked at the paper. “They shouldn’t do that. It’s not good for business to make fun of your customers.”

Parker grinned at that. He was sure that Ava was not only not used to being teased, but she probably wasn’t used to an entire town knowing—and caring about—every move she made. He couldn’t deny he enjoyed watching this gorgeous fish out of water. He didn’t know why except that it was fun to see a woman who was so confident and put together, and who obviously kicked ass in New York City, rattled a bit by a simple little town that had three stoplights and whose biggest news was the reopening of a pie shop that had four items on its menu.

She looked down at the paper he’d handed her and he watched her eyes widen. It was an itemized list of the food she’d “borrowed” from his kitchen.

He didn’t actually care about the butter and eggs. What bugged him about her pilfering was the way she walked into his kitchen at random times and made it impossible to not watch as she bent over to rummage in his fridge. If her shoes made him crazy, her sweet ass in her tight skirts jacked his blood pressure up to dangerous levels.

She looked up again. “Okay, so we’ll call the last three months even?”

“Fine.” He began gathering the salt and pepper shakers from around the restaurant, knowing that not having his full focus would bug her.

But truthfully, she had every bit of his attention. He refilled salt and pepper shakers by rote anyway, and Ava couldn’t be within ten feet of him without his entire system going on high alert.

It was annoying as hell.

“The income at the pie shop is just now inching up,” she told him. “After the Parking With Pie event Cori threw, we got the bank loan paid off. But you know that we have to turn a profit by the end of our first twelve months according to Rudy’s trust. So, we need a better product. So, I need you to make the pies.”

“No fucking way.” He set the tray of salt and pepper shakers on the counter in front of her.

“The pies have to get better, Parker,” she said, not the least bit deterred by his answer. Of course, negotiating and making deals was what she did for a living. “We both know our current process was just a stop gap to get the shop back open.”

“You mean the process where you don’t actually make the pies?” Parker asked.

“I do make them,” Ava protested. “I fill the crusts and bake them.”

Which still, somehow, didn’t turn out well. She bought the crusts from a lady in the next town and used canned pie filling and they still sucked. It drove Parker crazy, because he knew Ava’s approach had not been what Rudy intended when he’d put her in charge of the pies. But the will didn’t say how she had to make the pies. Just that she had to be the one doing it.

“But that doesn’t matter,” she said, waving that away. “I have to make a change. People aren’t buying the pies.” She took a deep breath. “They’re not buying my pies.”

Parker glanced up, hearing something in her tone. She looked chagrined, and for just a second he softened. She was right. The pies offered at the pie shop were the ones Ava made. They had to be. The trust stipulated that her sisters couldn’t help her in the kitchen—she had to do it herself. So if the pies weren’t good, that was all on Ava. She was failing to make money at something that was her full responsibility. That had probably never happened to her before.

But Parker knew that Rudy had intended for each of the girls to learn something from the jobs he’d given them, so Parker brushed off the softness he’d felt for a moment there.

He started pouring salt from a bigger container into the shakers. “I’m not making the pies for you, Boss.”

“But people will not only trust you to make good ones, the fact that you’ve always refused to serve dessert in here will make them curious and bring them in.”

She had a point there. “Too bad.”

“We need good pie, Parker. You’re the best option to make that happen.”

“But you’re supposed to make the pies and you know it.” He pointed a finger at her. “Dammit, Ava, if you don’t do what you’re supposed to do, I get stuck as the CFO of Carmichael Enterprises. So you can come over here in your short skirts and high heels and bat those big blue eyes at me all you want—that is not going to happen.”

Those blue eyes widened and he mentally kicked himself. He didn’t need to let on that he’d noticed all of that. He needed to concentrate on making her fulfill all of the requirements needed to keep him out of New York City.

As crazy as it was, the will stipulated that if the girls refused, or failed, to meet all of the stipulations for their inheritance, Evan, Parker, and Noah would be named CEO, CFO, and VP of Carmichael Enterprises respectively.

And Parker and his friends wanted nothing to do with running a multi-billion-dollar worldwide conglomerate in a huge city fifteen hundred miles away. Hell, he didn’t even know what exactly a CFO did. He, Evan and Noah all had the lives they wanted to have right here in their hometown. Parker’s father had brought their family to Bliss from Chicago with the sole purpose of finding a simpler, safer, happier way of life. Parker had no intention of changing anything about it. But he knew that Rudy had put that plan B in his trust because he knew it would motivate the guys to make sure the girls did what they were supposed to do.

Ava leaned in, resting her forearms on the counter and linking her fingers. “I’ve been over the trust with a fine-tooth comb. It says nothing about me making everything from scratch or by myself. Only that I have to be in charge of the product and the kitchen at the pie shop. I can’t help Cori and Brynn with the business or PR efforts, and they can’t help me with the pies. But it doesn’t say that I can’t have any help.”

Parker shook his head. No. She wasn’t talking him into this. “Your dad wanted you to learn what it was like to actually make the product you sell.” He started replacing the lids on the salt shakers.

“Yeah, well, I’m not selling much product at all. That’s the problem.”

“It’s because you’re half-assing it,” Parker told her bluntly. “And having me do it for you is also half-assing it.”

She sighed. “You’re right.”

Parker looked up quickly, surprised by her agreement.

“I have been. But that has to change,” she added. “I thought this would be easier. But the shop has to be successful for me to get back to New York and my real job. Which means I have to give one hundred percent.”

Yeah, only another eight and a half months of dealing with going hard in the middle of the day when walking into his kitchen to find her raiding his pantry. Only another eight and a half months of smelling her perfume in the air of that pantry for what felt like hours after she’d left. Only another eight and a half months of hearing things crashing against the shared wall between their kitchens and listening to her swearing like a sailor. And finding himself laughing in the middle of flipping burgers. Thank God that was all temporary.

“So start giving one hundred percent.” He started on the pepper shakers.

“I am. I’m giving one hundred percent to finding the best way to make this happen,” she said. “And that’s you.”

Parker kept filling the pepper shakers. “Your dad begged me to make him pie. He even offered me a million dollars—which I thought was a joke at the time—to make him pie. And I still wouldn’t do it.”

He didn’t fucking have time, for one thing. And his father had never served dessert, and the diner’s menu hadn’t changed since they’d opened fifteen years and four months ago. And it wasn’t going to change now because a hot, bossy blonde asked Parker to bake for her.

“Well, you know for sure that I do have a million dollars,” Ava said.

Parker looked up. “You’re offering me a million dollars to make the pies for you?”

“Something even better,” she said.

“What’s better?” he asked. “Two million?” He didn’t want her money. Money and loans had a way of complicating things, and complications were the last thing Parker wanted.

“How about this building—including the pie shop—free and clear?” she asked. The pie shop and diner were actually two parts of one big building that had been a farm supply company long ago. The wall divided it into two separate businesses, the diner about twice the size of the pie shop.

He frowned at her. “Why do you think I’d want that?” But he did kind of want that. He “owned” the diner, but he was actually paying the bank for it, one month at a time. It was fine. It was how a lot of people did business. Maybe most people. Small business loans were no big deal. But there something about the idea of really, truly, fully owning the diner that made his heart beat a little harder. His father had given him the business, and Parker took a lot of pride in what he did inside this building. And the idea of it being completely his, from the bricks and drywall to the eggs and whisks, was tempting, he couldn’t deny it.

Then he frowned harder. How did Ava know that about him?

She shrugged. “I did some research.”

“You researched me?” he asked.

“I always get as much information about the people I’m negotiating with as possible before we meet,” she said. “Interestingly, my team couldn’t dig much up about your business dealings.”

He rolled his eyes. “My business dealings are ‘what can I get you?’, ‘here’s your burger’ and ‘that will be eleven eighty-five’.”

She nodded. “Exactly. Direct. Simple. You pay your bills on time. You give to charity. You’ve never done anything even slightly sketchy with your business.”

He gave her a look.

“But I have learned some things about you over the past three months,” she said.

“Oh?”

“Your entire life revolves around this diner. This town. These people.”

Parker gripped the shaker he held tighter. She was right. And ninety-nine percent of the town could have told her that. But there was something about Ava having figured that out about him that felt…different. More personal.

“So,” she went on. “I figured the best thing I could offer you was a chance to really, truly own this place.”

Hearing her say what he’d just been thinking felt strangely intimate.

“And,” she added, “since clearly making food for these people is what turns your crank, I figured you’d appreciate having a chance to make even more food for more people.”

It turned his crank, huh? Well, he supposed that was one way to put it. But he didn’t have the time or energy to make more food for more people. He was perfectly happy with things exactly as they were. Exactly as they always had been.

“I could pay off my own loan with the million dollars,” he commented. “And buy a boat.”

They referred to business deals as getting into bed together. He was pretty sure that getting into bed with Ava, in any capacity, would absolutely make his life complicated.

But it would be temporary. She’ll be leaving town in eight and a half months.

Still, he had a feeling that a woman like Ava could have an effect that would be felt long after she was gone.

She nodded. “But then you wouldn’t have a fifty-fifty partnership with Cori in the pie shop.”

Okay…what? Parker set the big container of pepper down and braced his hands on the counter. “A partnership with Cori?”

Ava nodded and wet her lips.

Per the trust, Parker was supposed to run the pie shop after the girls left, but Cori was now staying in Bliss because of Evan. Parker had assumed that she would want the pie shop, and he had no intention of fighting her for it. He’d actually been relieved Evan had hinted that Cori would like to keep the shop open after the triplets’ year in Bliss was up. He’d made it sound like Cori would be willing to run it and work for Parker, but Parker had planned to just sign the whole thing over to her. It had been her dad’s and, seriously, Parker didn’t have the time for another business anyway.

A partnership had never been mentioned.

“Fifty-fifty,” Ava confirmed. “Fully backed by Carmichael Enterprises. But it has to stay a pie shop. I don’t know if you’d planned to knock the wall between the diner and shop down and expand or something, but if you’re interested in the pie shop as a pie shop, then it can be half yours. No investment required up front. You just come in and take over next March. Very low risk.”

Really, no risk if Carmichael Enterprises was behind it. Per Rudy’s will, Carmichael Enterprises couldn’t be involved with the shop for this first year, but after the twelve months was up the triplets could do whatever they wanted. And this didn’t surprise Parker. According to Evan, this was what Ava did—she financially backed everything her mom and sisters did so that they had no worries about money or security. Ava would be able to insure the financial stability of the shop for the rest of Cori’s life if needed.

“What if I want to keep it all for myself? No Cori?” Parker asked, just to see what she’d say.

“Then I’ll give you ten million for it.”

He blinked at her. She was serious. Her sister’s happiness was worth ten million. In fact, he was pretty sure she’d go even higher if she had to.

That was a lot of money. That was the kind of money that changed lives. Maybe for the better. Maybe not. But it didn’t matter. Parker didn’t want a changed life.

“Cori is okay with sharing it?” Parker asked.

“Definitely. She’s never run a business before. She wants a partner. In case you’ve missed it, Cori doesn’t really like to be alone. She’s much better with people. Especially people who can help with the ‘boring stuff’ like the books and accounts,” Ava said.

Parker chuckled. Parker liked Cori a lot. She was fun and sweet and sassy and smart. But she didn’t sit still well, and she hated the accounting Rudy was forcing her to do for the pie shop this first year. Yeah, he could be her business partner. He could take care of the books and inventory stuff while she had fun in the kitchen. He couldn’t run two kitchens anyway. And if he was ever slightly jealous of her getting to create and concoct over there, he’d never let on.

“Let me think about it,” he told Ava.

“Sure. Of course,” Ava said with a nod. Then she leaned in again. “But if you’re going to take over the pie shop, it makes even more sense for you to be making the pies now. You can make the pies you want your pie shop to be known for, and we get things going strong for both you and Cori before I leave.”

He rolled his neck, taking a deep breath. This woman never stopped pushing. “What makes you think I have pies I want the pie shop to be known for?” he asked, looking up again.

Ava met his eyes. “Because, for all the bitching you do about people coming in here to eat, you take pride in the food you make. You have very specific ideas about how it should all be done. So, if you’re a part of the pie shop, you’ll want to make really good pies in a very particular way.”

He just looked at her for a long moment. Dammit. She was more observant and insightful than he’d given her credit for.

And suddenly a new thought occurred to him. One that made all of this a lot more appealing. “I just don’t know that you’ll like me being your boss,” he told her.

She lifted a brow. “Uh. Owner,” she said, pointing at herself. “Employee.” She pointed at him. “Until March.”

“Good at pies,” he said, pointing at himself. “Not.” He pointed at her. “If I’m teaching you to make pie, that means I’m in charge and you have to do what I say.”

“Teaching me? No, no, I just want to help you do it.”

“Not what Rudy intended and you know it.”

She blew out a breath. She clearly wanted to argue further, but finally she said, “Fine.”

Parker nodded and resumed the pepper filling, trying not to look too smug. Could he teach Ava to bake a pie? Hell if he knew. But he could try. And in the process, get his recipes into the pie shop—so what if she somehow knew that would matter to him?—get full ownership of the diner, and ruffle a few more of Ava’s feathers. Because, for whatever reason, that was really a hell of a lot of fun.

“But you’ve got your work cut out for you,” she said. “And keep in mind that all of the pies will be known as yours. You’ll want them to be good.”

He looked up at her. “Yeah, I caught that,” he said. “The Wilsons now think that I’m going to be baking over there. That will be all around town by dinnertime.”

She nodded. “Exactly.”

“And you’re feeling kind of cocky because you think that if you keep messing the pies up, I’ll just step in and do it for you to save my reputation,” he guessed.

She looked mildly surprised, and he realized he was right in assuming that was her plan. But she shrugged. “You know everyone will be expecting great things from you. You won’t want to let them down.”

“But they’ll also know that Cori and I are partners,” he said. “And considering they’ve been eating my cooking for twelve years and have never tried Cori’s, they might just assume that anything bad is hers.”

Ava frowned. “Cori’s an amazing baker.”

“Well, of course you would say that. You’re her sister.”

“But they know I’ve been doing the bad baking so far.”

He nodded. “But the town doesn’t know all the details of the will. They don’t know that you have to be the one baking. From what I hear, they assume you’re the best of the three of you.”

He couldn’t help but grin at Ava’s little gasp. “I didn’t know that. They actually think Cori and Brynn are even worse bakers than I am?”

“Well, what are you going to do? Tell them that your dad sent the worst of you into the kitchen to torture the town?” Parker asked. “That would just make him look crazy.”

She frowned, clearly processing all the ways her family could end up looking bad here. Parker fought his smile.

“So, you really think you can make me a good baker?”

He felt a surge of triumph. Ava would do whatever she had to do to protect her family’s reputation. He liked that about her. And he was going to unabashedly use it against her. Rudy wanted her to learn to make pie. So she was going to learn to make pie. “I can,” he said with a solemn nod, trying not to give away how much he was going to enjoy this. “But you’ll have to do everything I tell you.”

She chewed on her bottom lip, clearly torn between agreeing for her family’s sake, and telling him to fuck off. “Fine. You can teach me how to bake the pies. For now.”

For eight and a half months, he reminded himself. Which could be a very long time. “Fine.”

“Oh, and Hank and the guys know you’re going to be working at the pie shop too,” she told him.

Parker sighed. Hank and his friends, Walter, Ben and Roger, went to the pie shop every morning for coffee after eating breakfast at the diner. They were a font of information and gossip.

“You’re okay with the whole town knowing that you’ve begged me for help?” Parker asked.

She laughed. “Admitting that I suck at baking? Yeah. Because I don’t care about pies.”

Parker nodded. “Exactly.”

“What?”

“I think you’re really good at anything you do care about.”

She seemed surprised by the compliment. “Thank you,” she said. “I am, actually, good at the things I really try at.”

“Do you even like pie?”

“No.”

“It’s hard to care about things you don’t like.”

“But I like Cori.”

He acknowledged that with a tip of his head.

“So, let’s get started.” Ava slid off the stool and started for his kitchen.

“Whoa.” He caught her arm, bringing her to a stop.

Her skin was soft and warm under his hand and he realized that he’d never touched her before. He cleared his throat and dropped his hand. “We’re not starting today,” he said.

She looked up at him. Even in her heels she still had to tip her head slightly, and it occurred to him, as he looked into those big blue eyes, that they hadn’t stood this close before. At least not for more than a second as she scooted around him to escape his kitchen with eggs or butter.

“Um, why?” she asked.

Was her voice a little husky?

“I have things to do today,” he said. “I wasn’t prepared for this. But we can start tomorrow.”

“Oh, tomorrow. Right. We need to go fruit picking tomorrow.”

He blinked at her. “What?”

“Hank and Walter might have overheard me mention to Cori and Brynn that we’re going fruit picking.”

“Why are we going fruit picking?”

“I figured you’d insist on getting rid of the canned pie filling for the pies.”

“I am going to insist on that,” he agreed.

“So we’ll need fruit, right?”

“I guess so.”

“So fruit picking is a good idea,” she said. “We’ll go after your breakfast shift tomorrow.”

Parker didn’t respond right away. Did she really not know that there was no fruit in season right now? And why was he hesitating to tell her? Maybe because she was so damned bossy, even when he’d tried to make it very clear he was going to be in charge in the kitchen. It might be fun—good, he meant good, as in a good lesson for her—to take charge of this and have her show up to pick nonexistent fruit. It might be good for her to realize that she didn’t know as much as he did about some of this. Maybe it would make her more likely to listen to him. He almost laughed at that.

“Fine,” he finally agreed. “We’ll start tomorrow. And I’ll give you three days a week.”

“I need more than that.”

Pushing. Always pushing. “Well, I’ve got stuff to do. So, three days a week, and you can practice on the other days.”

“Why? Will there be a test?” she asked sarcastically.

He narrowed his eyes, studying her face. And made a decision. He nodded. “Yes. I will be testing you.”

Of course, that could be taken several ways, and he would, no doubt, be testing her patience. And enjoying it more than he should. And more than he had interacting with any other woman in a long time.

He had a flash of she’s gonna mess things up. But he quickly reminded himself temporarily. It’s just temporary.

“Very funny,” she said.

“Oh, I’m not joking,” he told her. “I’ll be the first taste-tester you’ll have to get through. If I don’t like it, you’ll have to try again.”

Her eyes flared with irritation and, if he wasn’t mistaken, a touch of excitement.

It shouldn’t surprise him that being issued a challenge would get her going. Though it was hard to think of a time when Ava wasn’t going.

“Fine,” she finally said.

Yep, being Ava’s boss was going to be a good time.