Ava blew out a breath. Her options here were: turn and stomp out, offended by the things he’d said, or stay and learn about food, and hope to hell that some of this rubbed off for the pie shop.

That was still her end goal. Making the pie shop profitable and stable was the whole reason she was doing this. So yeah, she had to stay. She was tough. She’d been in smaller rooms with far more offensive people in the course of her career. She could handle being in the kitchen—a room that, admittedly, made her more uncomfortable than even those tiny conference rooms—with a man who knew her on a level that probably only her sisters knew. Probably.

Feeling incredibly aware—the best word to describe how Parker affected her—of everything she was doing and everything he was doing, she leaned in and opened her mouth.

He slid the fork between her lips, and she closed around the tines. She took stock of everything—him pulling the fork back, the slick metal prongs sliding over her lips, his eyes on her mouth, how dark brown his eyes were…then the taste hit her. The combination of salt and spice. The buttery flakiness of the crust. The gooey cheese with the nutty flavor. She felt her eyes slide shut, and she sighed as she chewed. It was so good. Right up there with the soup. And the chicken salad. And…dammit.

She did like food. At least, she liked Parker Blake’s food.

She opened her eyes as she swallowed. “Huh.”

He cocked an eyebrow.

“It’s good,” she allowed. “Really good.” She frowned at the fennel remnants still on the countertop. “It’s good when it’s like this.”

He smiled. “I’ve found that a lot of things that aren’t so palatable on their own can be downright amazing when combined with the right other ingredients. And even ingredients that are awesome on their own can be made better.”

It was strange, but she thought maybe he was talking about more than food. She nodded. “It’s the same in business,” she said. “I have a lot of people on my team that are capable and creative and smart and reliable. But when I bring them together in one room and give them a project, the results can be absolutely brilliant. And I have a few that are hard to work with one-on-one, but who really contribute well in a group.”

He seemed very pleased that she’d made the analogy. And maybe slightly surprised. “How’s this compare to the soup earlier?”

She frowned. “How can you compare a meat pie thing with soup?”

“It’s about flavor and texture, temperature, flavors on their own and in combination, your preferences. Once it’s in your mouth, you can definitely compare.”

She hadn’t realized how sexy cooking could be. There was a lot of talk about mouths anyway. Which of course made her flash back to his your mouth is perfect thing from a little bit ago. She cleared her throat. And actually thought about his question. “I would still choose the soup. It was creamy and smoky. Then there was the spice at the end. It felt…” She trailed off, realizing what she was about to say was going to sound strange.

“It felt what?” he asked, leaning in slightly, clearly very interested.

“It felt better in my mouth.” She almost winced. That definitely sounded weird. She shrugged. “I don’t know how to explain it. I just liked the feel of the soup better.” She had never thought about how food felt. She was aware of textures and such, she supposed. On a subconscious level. But she’d never tuned in and really thought about food having a feel.

Parker seemed to be having a hard time coming up with a response.

“I know that sounds weird,” she finally said. “But that’s—”

“Hang on.” He turned and strode to the fridge, withdrew a covered container, and quickly put it in the microwave. “I want to see something,” he told her as he hit buttons and started reheating whatever it was.

More food. Ava rolled her eyes behind his back. She had never given food this much thought. And she’d never seen someone as into it all as Parker was. She looked down at the mortadella and cheese pie thing. He was really good at it too. He was clearly into far more than burgers and fried chicken. Why didn’t he put some of this on the menu? He said this was a burger town. Okay, fennel and dill pickles weren’t exactly in the same class when it came to additions to meat and cheese. But maybe he just hadn’t given them a chance to really try these other things.

The microwave beeped and Parker poured from the container into a bowl. His back was to her as he added some things to the bowl, then slid it into the oven, so Ava snuck another bite of the meat and cheese pie. Yeah, it was good. Really good.

Was he right that she just hadn’t found food she really liked before and that was why she thought she didn’t care about it? Or was it because she’d never tuned in and taken time with her food? She’d definitely been focused on it today. With Parker’s questions and conversation. And his…intensity. It was really hard to not focus on him and what he was doing and talking about, frankly.

Did she do the same thing in other areas? She really felt like she focused at work. But she also always had a lot going on. She was a master multitasker. She had to be. And yes, even when she was with her sisters, she was doing other things.

With that, she realized she hadn’t checked her phone once during her time in the kitchen with Parker. In fact, her phone was next door in the pie shop. Damn. She had never left her phone for this long. But she hadn’t checked it during her time with him yesterday either.

Her thoughts were interrupted as Parker removed whatever he was making from the oven, then carried it over to her. Rather than handing it to her, however, he came to stand directly in front of her, dipped a spoon into the contents, pushing it through what appeared to be melted cheese—which she could honestly say she was a fan of—and held it up.

For a moment, the aroma of beef and onion touched her nose, but it was followed immediately by the scent of…Parker. Laundry detergent, and lemon, and man. How that scent beat all of the others out, she had no idea. It was a kitchen, after all. There was garlic and bacon and any number of other strong scents hanging in the air. But this close, with his brown eyes watching her intently, and the air around her heating from his body, all she could smell was him. It was probably exactly what he’d said—focusing on something allowed you to fully appreciate it.

“Ava.” His voice was husky. “Take a bite.”

She suddenly wanted to sink her teeth into his bottom lip and make him moan for a change.

She opened her mouth instead, and he slid the spoon past her lips. She tasted the broth, the onion and beef, the French bread and melted Swiss and provolone. She knew she was tasting French onion soup. Amazing French onion soup. But all of that registered at the back of her mind. What was at the forefront was the scuff along Parker’s jaw and how she came to exactly the right height to brush her lips along that jaw and how his whiskers would feel against her cheek and how his skin would taste. Yeah, if he wanted her tuning in to sensations, this was working.

“How is it?” he asked gruffly, not moving back an inch, though he was quite firmly in her personal space.

She swallowed. “I don’t know.”

A slight line creased between his brows. “The soup? How does this one taste…and feel…compared to the other?” He used her own words and he clearly wasn’t mocking her. He wanted to know. He understood her thing about how the soup felt.

But she honestly couldn’t answer. She shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“How can you not know?”

“I’m…distracted. It’s hard to taste and appreciate food when I’m not paying attention to it. Just like you said.”

“You can’t shut your mind off for even a few minutes?” he asked. But he didn’t seem perturbed exactly. If she didn’t know better, he almost said it with a touch of affection.

Again she shook her head and decided to be totally honest. “Not with you standing so close.”

Heat and surprise flickered in his eyes. But he didn’t say anything. He did, however, do something. He lifted a hand and put it against her cheek. Then ran his thumb along her bottom lip.

She sucked in a quick breath. She was used to numbers and schedules and tables and colored tabs. Parker was trying to get her to focus on feelings and sensations. Well, this was definitely helping.

“Yeah, there’s no way for me to have any idea about soup right now,” she said softly as his thumb rested just below her bottom lip.

“Damn,” he breathed.

“You okay?”

“It’s just that I wanted to keep cooking for you even before this,” he said, gruffly.

“Before wh—” But she didn’t have to wait to find out what he meant.

His lips touched hers, and all of the prickly, sharp snaps of energy that had been affecting her over the past couple of days cascaded over her at once, making her feel jumpy, itchy, and like she couldn’t stop. She couldn’t stop from going up on her tiptoes and running her hands up his arms to the back of his neck and opening her mouth. And then, once she’d pressed her body to his and he’d stroked his tongue along hers, all of that gathered into one hot flame that seemed to melt her from the inside out. She leaned into him, everything went soft and almost quiet. No longer jumpy, she wanted to stay completely still. Right against Parker. For a very long time.

The only thing on her mind right now was Parker. For a woman who multitasked in everything, who always had a million things going on, who had a hard time stopping her brain from constantly working, there was nothing on her mind right now but the man who was tasting her mouth as if she was a decadent combination of flavors he was hungry for.

It wasn’t until a beeping suddenly started next to her ear that she jerked back.

It was his watch alarm. He reached up and shut it off but didn’t take his other hand away from her face.

Their time was up.

“We didn’t bake any pie,” she said, her voice breathless. “Again.”

“Nope.”

He didn’t look sorry. And she didn’t feel sorry. And that was a problem. The pie was the goal. Or it was the basis of the goal. And this guy was supposed to be the answer to the struggles keeping her from that goal.

And he was distracting as hell.

She stepped back and he let her go, but he didn’t move away. “I’d better let you get back to the diner,” she said.

He nodded. “Okay.” No protest. No just another minute. No it can wait.

And she got that. Business couldn’t wait. She’d never put business off for anyone other than her sisters. And even then, it didn’t happen often. If Cori came to New York more than once a month or so, Ava would have probably said no to their outings once in a while.

But in that moment, she really wanted Parker to play hooky from work. With her. For her.

“Tomorrow,” she said, forcing herself to think about pie—or the lack of it—instead of melding her mouth to his again. “I’m going to insist you do your job tomorrow and make pie with me.”

It took him a second to respond, but finally he gave her a nod and said, “Whatever you want, Boss.”

Then he turned on his heel and headed out to the front of the diner.

And she made her escape through the back door and into the pie shop.

But she couldn’t escape all of the things that were rushing through her mind that she wanted from Parker. And none of them involved pie.

Dammit.

She stopped in the middle of the pie shop’s kitchen and looked around.

Well, now what? If she could do anything good in this kitchen by herself, she’d already be doing it. She needed Parker for that.

She stomped over to the counter and grabbed her large mixing bowl. She heaved it at the wall. The plastic made a good cracking sound, but it bounced off, unharmed. Cori and Brynn had gotten her plastic mixing bowls and measuring cups because she’d found that throwing things helped her get rid of some of her frustration in the kitchen. And because she’d broken all the glass ones.

Glass shattering against a plaster wall really was far more satisfying than plastic. But the cleanup was more involved. And replacing the bowls and cups was gouging their tiny budget.

Thinking of their budget, and the fact that she had to worry about keeping the electricity on in the shop and buying glass mixing bowls, made her want to throw something else. She’d never had to worry about stuff like that before. She dealt with budgets, of course. But the numbers were generally in the seven-figure range. And there was always more of those numbers in the profit column than in the expense column. She had enough money in her personal account, of course, to keep the shop running for the rest of their twelve-month stint and then some. But her father’s trust did say that she and Cori and Brynn couldn’t use their personal money for the pie shop. It was supposed to be self-sustaining. But considering they’d inherited a business that had been essentially a place for her father to hang out with his buddies to drink coffee and gossip, they had some work to do.

She’d never in her life had to think about if she could pay a phone bill or go to the grocery store. Then again, she’d never paid a bill or gone to the grocery store before coming to Bliss. She had staff for both of those.

And for the record, she hated doing both.

Ava looked around, grabbed an apple and heaved it at the wall. It hit with a thud and split open, falling to the floor in pieces. Okay, that felt good. She picked up another and threw it as well.

Yep, she liked breaking things. She’d discovered that the first time she’d heaved a whole bowl full of beaten eggs against the wall. That was a startling side to her personality, but she found it strangely satisfying.

Too bad it made such a mess.

She turned back to the counter and took a deep breath. Okay. So Parker was going to be of no help today in her kitchen. Not that he’d been helpful in his kitchen. All she’d done was eat. And get distracted. And get kissed.

Her fingers went to her lips as she flashed back to that moment. Damn, the guy made great soup and was an amazing kisser. He’d provided two of the most basic human needs…food and human touch.

Neither of which she’d ever been all that into before.

Then her stomach growled. The traitor.

Blowing out a breath, she went to the fridge. But the yogurt and fruit she had in there didn’t look appealing at all. Nothing like the mortadella and cheese creation next door. That was downright delicious. Then she noticed a plastic container behind her three yogurt cartons. She pulled it out and popped the lid. And just stared. It was a container of the chicken salad Parker had made yesterday. Which meant, at some point he’d come over and put it in here. For her.

Ava felt something flutter in her chest, and the melty feeling she’d experienced when Parker had kissed her ran through her again. It definitely wasn’t the sharp, prickly stuff. This was the feeling she liked.

But she put the container back. She wasn’t going to eat it for lunch today. She definitely wasn’t going to eat yogurt. She had a better idea.

She slipped into Parker’s kitchen a moment later. It was empty but she could hear voices out front. She searched for only a minute or so before finding a tray and a stack of paper napkins. She quickly cut the mortadella pie into small slices, eating two and putting the rest on the napkins arranged on the tray. Then she flipped her hair back, put on a big smile, and pushed through the swinging door. She crossed the diner before Parker even noticed her and was out on the sidewalk in front of the diner before he came after her.

David Dixon was just coming to the diner’s door when Parker pushed it open.

“Hey, Parker,” David greeted. “Hi, Ava.”

“Hi, David,” Ava said, ignoring Parker for the moment. “Would you like to try a sample today?” She handed him a napkin with a piece of the mortadella and cheese concoction on it.

“I…um…” David clearly didn’t know what to do other than accept it. “Thanks.”

“Try it,” she said, giving him a bright smile.

He did. His eyes widened. “What is this?”

“Something new,” she said. “Parker made it. We’re were playing around in the kitchen with new recipes.” Again, if David, or anyone else, took “playing around” as something other than cooking, that was fine with her.

David nodded. “It’s good.” He looked at Parker. “Really good.”

Ava felt a surge of satisfaction as she looked up at Parker. And immediately sobered. He wasn’t happy.

“Thanks,” he said shortly.

“Fennel,” Ava said, drawing David’s attention from Parker’s clear irritation.

“What?” David asked.

“There’s fennel in it. Have you ever had fennel before?”

“Uh, I don’t think so.”

“I hadn’t either, but I swear, if Parker puts his hands on something, I become a huge fan.” And yes, she realized how that sounded.

David made a little choking sound, and one of Parker’s eyebrows arched.

“But it’s good, right?” she asked David.

“It really is. Good job, Parker.” David slapped Parker on the shoulder as he stepped past him into the diner.

The door swung shut behind him and Ava found herself alone with Parker. Yes, they were on a public sidewalk in front of one of the most popular businesses in town, but they were alone for the moment, and a thought flashed through her mind that whenever he stood this close, she would feel alone with him, like she couldn’t concentrate on anything else.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice low and definitely displeased.

She lifted her chin. “Showing people that maybe they don’t always want burgers.”

“Stop.”

“But it could be so good,” she said. “Maybe you just need to give them the chance to try something new.”

“No.”

She frowned. It wasn’t like people never said no to her. Okay, people didn’t say no to her very often, but there were times when people thought they had a better idea than hers. Temporarily. Still, those people at least offered an argument or an explanation. Not just a “no”.

“Why not?”

She thought for a moment that he was just going to turn around and storm back into the diner. He definitely looked like that’s what he wanted to do.

But instead, he took a deep breath and said, “Because sometimes change sucks, okay? Sometimes new isn’t better. Sometimes you just need one fucking thing in your life to be the way it’s always been in the midst of all the changes that you can’t control.”

“Ah.” She felt…stunned. And like she really wanted to kiss him again. And maybe hug him too. That was the strangest feeling of all.

But, like Parker, instead of doing what she wanted to do, she said, “I see.”

Something flickered in his eyes. It looked a little like what had been there just before he’d kissed her earlier. But this also included curiosity. And trepidation.

“Do you?” His voice was rough.

She nodded. “You haven’t changed the menu in this diner in fifteen years. And, let me guess—you’ve touched up the paint and repaired the upholstery—but always so it still looks the same. You don’t even change the prices—which is crazy. You don’t have a staff. Because those people would come and go. Unlike you. In the midst of businesses starting up and closing, and people moving in and out, and people passing away, you can control this little corner and keep it the same for everyone. But while you make it out to be about them and because they don’t like change, it’s also about you. This is your haven where you always know what to expect and you never have to really adjust. Where you don’t have to change.”

Neither of them moved or spoke for several long seconds, but the molecules of air between them seemed to be bouncing and zinging back and forth.

“Exactly,” he finally said.

She breathed out, relieved beyond reason by his admission. And warmed beyond reason about his adamant stance to keep things the same for the town, even if he was doing it for himself too. Still, there was something more there, something she sensed in him. He loved being creative in the kitchen. He loved surprising her with the food he’d fed her. He loved the off-menu food that he so clearly also liked to eat. “So you don’t want any changes? At all? Are you sure?”

“Not here, Ava,” he said, his voice sounding tight. “Okay? Just not here.”

She knew what he meant. Not at the diner. She glanced at the pie shop next door, then back to him and nodded. “Okay. Not here.”

He stared at her for another several ticks, and she thought that maybe he was considering kissing her. Her lips tingled with anticipation. But finally, he gave a single nod and then headed back into the diner.

---

Is there even any vodka in this?”

Cori rounded her eyes but tipped the vodka bottle over Ava’s martini glass.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Ava told her. "And don’t pretend you weren’t diluting it with chocolate syrup and salted caramel. That’s all fine and good, but I want liquor in my martinis too.”

“Wait, you taste the salted caramel?” Cori asked, clearly surprised.

“Yes.” Then Ava realized what she’d just said and sighed. 

They were in the kitchen at the house their father had left for them in Bliss. It was a big, old house, like most of the other big, old houses in town. She was used to the polished, steel and glass of Manhattan. She had floor-to-ceiling windows on two sides of the living room in the condo she owned. She had floor to ceiling windows on two sides of her office at Carmichael Enterprises. And through those windows she had amazing views. Of more steel and glass. But his old house, with its original woodwork and fifty-year-old light fixtures was growing on her.

“What’s with you?” Brynn asked. “You usually just drink them down.”

“Usually they’re just chocolate,” Ava said with a shrug. “I always taste the chocolate.”

“Yeah. They’re not always just chocolate,” Cori told her.

“No?” Ava actually wasn’t surprised to hear that. Or that she’d missed other flavors.

“I’ve added marshmallow,” Cori said.

“You and your s’mores,” Ava muttered.

“And peanut butter.”

Ava took another drink of the martini in her hand. Yeah, she could absolutely taste the caramel. “Seriously?” she asked of the peanut butter. How had she missed that?

“Seriously. And cherry. Those were really good,” Cori told her.

“You added cherry to a chocolate martini?” Damn, that sounded good. “And I didn’t notice?”

“You’re always very…focused,” Brynn said, clearly trying to be diplomatic, as usual.

“Yes. With work and stuff,” Ava said, drinking again.

“With everything. When you drink a martini you…” Cori shrugged, “…drink a martini. I know you like chocolate better than other kinds, but I don’t think you’re necessarily drinking to appreciate the taste of it.”

Ava started to reply. But she took another drink instead, savoring the flavor of the caramel and chocolate together. Cori was right. Not that she didn’t like the taste of chocolate martinis, but beyond that she didn’t really think about it. “Dammit.”

“Really, what is going on with you?” Brynn asked. “There’s been less crashing and swearing in the pie shop kitchen the last couple of days. And I caught you sitting in your office last night, staring into space.”

Cori’s eyes widened again. She looked from Ava to Brynn and back. “You were daydreaming?”

“I’ve just been—” Ava blew out a breath. “Distracted.”

“Is everything okay?” Brynn asked.

Ava debated lying. But she realized that she could maybe use some perspective from the two people who knew her best. “It’s Parker.”

Brynn and Cori exchanged a look.

“How is Parker distracting you?” Cori asked. She seemed amused.

Ava frowned. “He has me tasting things.”

Brynn made a little choking sound.

“Food,” Ava said. “And thinking about it. And enjoying it."

“The bastard,” Cori said dryly.

She knew Cori and Evan had talked about her and Parker. She wondered what Parker had said to Evan. Then reminded herself that they weren’t twelve and in junior high school. She wasn’t going to ask her sister to ask Parker’s friend what Parker had said about her. Probably.

“We’ve spent four days together, surrounded by butter and sugar and we haven’t even baked a pie yet!” She glanced at Brynn. “That’s why there’s less swearing and breaking things in our kitchen. I’ve been at Parker’s in the afternoon. Supposedly getting baking lessons. Instead all I’ve gotten is fed and frustrated.”

Cori shook her head. “Man, are you doing the food thing wrong. Frustrated is not how food makes me feel.”

Actually, it wasn’t how it was making Ava feel either. Unless it was sexually frustrated. There was definitely a little of that going on. But the food itself? And watching Parker make it? And watching Parker watch her eat it? That was hot and weirdly intimate and…the reason she was daydreaming.

That was why she was frustrated. Because she’d spent the last few days not working toward any of her goals.

“All I want him to do is teach me to bake a pie. Or bake it himself. That would be even better. That’s it. I don’t want to taste his sausage or his avocados.”

Cori coughed as she swallowed down the wrong pipe. “Excuse me?”

“Not even a euphemism,” Ava told her soberly. “Actual sausage—mortadella to be precise—and avocados.”

Brynn and Cori didn’t seem to know what to say to that.

“He’s been cooking and I’ve been eating.” And he’d been strangely insightful and she’d been, hell, also strangely insightful. “We’ve now spent all this time together...in a kitchen no less...and have yet to actually make a pie."

“Okay,” Brynn said.

“Wow,” Cori added.

“And he should want to bake pies. It’s going to partly be his shop. He should want this,” Ava insisted.

“Yeah,” Cori said, though she seemed thoughtful.

“What?” Ava asked. “What have you and Evan figured out about all of this?” Because she knew that’s what was coming.

“We’ve just talked about how weird it is that you haven’t made him do the baking and that he hasn’t insisted. Both of you can be really damned bossy and stubborn when you want something. It’s almost like you’re both enjoying the other stuff.”

Ava frowned. The food was good. And having Parker’s full attention had been really nice. He was an intense guy, and she liked that about him. He tried to come off as laid-back, but it didn’t work. At least not with her. She didn’t like being distracted, but she kind of liked that he seemed entirely focused on her when they were in that kitchen together. Well, her and food.

“Whatever,” she said, trying to seem more put out than interested in all of that. “The guy is obsessed with food and is showing off.”

“Yeah, but he never lets anyone in his kitchen,” Cori said. “Evan made that really clear. If his mom’s there helping out, she goes in and out with dishes, but no one helps him with the food.”

“It’s not as if I asked permission,” Ava said with a shrug.

Brynn laughed. “I’ve seen him take a grilled cheese away from someone who was dipping it in ranch. Pretty sure if he didn’t want you in his kitchen, he’d get you out.”

Ava didn’t like how her pulse raced with all of these bits of news. It didn’t mean what her sisters seemed to think it meant. She and Parker had a common goal—making the pie shop successful.

Of course, they still hadn’t baked a freaking pie.

“And no one eats back there. And Evan had never heard of chicken avocado salad. Also, I’ve had Parker’s tomato soup. It does not have basil in it. So it’s not like he cooks this way for other people all the time. Just you.”

Those last two words caused Ava’s heart to thump hard, and she grimaced. She didn’t want heart-thumping. She wanted to complete her to-do list from Rudy. Period. She wanted to get back to New York. She wanted Cori stable. She wanted to get back to her regular life where she ate…well, whatever she’d been eating for twenty-nine years. She wanted to go back to dating guys who did absolutely nothing surprising. She wanted lawyers and CEOs and investment bankers. Not guys who came off as grumpy and nonchalant, but deep down had passion and creativity and gave up what they wanted to do in order to keep their diners a haven for people in the midst of a world that wouldn’t stop changing and challenging them.

Ava rubbed two fingers against the center of her forehead. This was supposed to be a pretty basic recipe. Make pie + date a nice guy for six months = inherit Carmichael Enterprises. But, like every other recipe she’d tried in this town, it wasn’t turning out the way she’d expected.

“The basil doesn’t mean anything,” she finally told Cori. “He puts a little more flare into the food he makes for me because he doesn’t want me criticizing or complaining.”

Sure, that made sense.

“I might think that was true for someone else,” Cori said. “But Parker Blake doesn’t really care about criticizing or complaining.”

That was true. He didn’t care about her complaining. A lot of the time it had seemed that Parker liked annoying her.

So why was he putting basil in her tomato soup?

I wanted to keep cooking for you even before this. Her body flushed as she remembered Parker’s words from the other day. Just before he’d kissed her.

“What is that about?” Cori asked, her eyes narrowing as she took in Ava’s blush.

Which deepened the heat in Ava’s cheeks. “Nothing.”

“Kissing Parker was nothing?” Cori asked.

Ava sat up quickly. “What?”

Cori smiled smugly. “You kissed Parker.”

“Parker told Evan?”

“No. You just told me.” She held her hand out toward Brynn, who laid a five-dollar bill in it with a sigh.

“You guessed?” Ava asked, watching her sisters.

“You’ve been acting strangely for the past four days. And you didn’t even come into the shop yesterday or today,” Brynn told her. “I thought you and Parker had gotten into a fight. Cori thought you’d kissed. I lost the bet.”

Ava looked back and forth between them. “So me acting weird has to have something to do with Parker?” she asked. “Why didn’t you guess it had something to do with Carmichael Enterprises or that I wasn’t feeling well?” She wasn’t sure she wanted the answer to this.

“Because you never act weird. Even if you’re stressed with work or sick, you’re still…you. Calm, cool, under control,” Brynn said. “You know what to do in every situation. You never hide out.”

“I wasn’t hiding out!” Ava protested.

But it was clear from their expressions that neither of her sisters were buying that.

Because she had definitely been hiding out.

She didn’t know what to do with Parker Blake. He was not just surprising her, but he was distracting her. And making her like it. She definitely didn’t feel like she had any control in this whole situation with him. He was her employee and she should be able to insist that he come to the pie shop and make pies. That seemed clear and straightforward. But she was afraid he was going to make her come to him, and if she went over to see him, she’d end up even more infatuated—with his food, of course—and possibly begging him to kiss her again.

That was not okay.

She was also afraid that if he did decide to come over to the pie shop before she went to get him from the diner, that she’d end up even more infatuated—with something—and begging him to kiss her again.

Also not okay.

So she couldn’t win. And she didn’t like not winning. So she’d stayed home for the past two days. The intent had been to use the time to focus on business other than the freaking pies that were turning her life upside down. To get back in the saddle of being a kick-ass CEO. To remind herself that she did actually know what she was doing and was in control. At least when there weren’t aprons and whisks involved.

Of course, that wasn’t a long-term strategy. Especially since she’d found her mind wandering even in the midst of being a kick-ass CEO who knew what she was doing and was in control.

She had to go back to the pie shop tomorrow. She had to see Parker and insist that they actually make a damned pie. Which was why she was drinking now.

She drained her glass and handed it to Cori. “Can you make me one of those chocolate martinis with cherry?” she asked.

“Or I was going to try a new one,” Cori said. “What about lime and pineapple?”

Go completely away from her chocolate martini? But the idea of combining lime and pineapple with her vodka was intriguing. “Sure.” She couldn’t wait to taste it.

Damn Parker Blake for making her think differently and even have feelings about things she’d never paid attention to before. He wasn’t letting her stay in her comfort zone like he was doing for everyone else in Bliss. Did he know that?

But she had a suspicion that he did.