Page 67 of Forbidden Flame

We were supposed to be taking things slow. But it felt like we’d known each other forever, and things were unfolding exactly as they should. Almost as if we were meant to be. Which was crazy because if there was ever a couple that didn’t belong together, it was us.

I’d taken Cole’s advice about the business to heart and played around with different taglines like: Pies that have to be eaten to be believed. I was on the right track, but it felt too long. You can’t resist my pies. Nope.

I felt like there was an amazing line just on the edges of my consciousness. I just needed to grab onto it. You can’t resist my pies. Pies you can’t resist. Maybe.

Today, I was going back to the restaurants that said they didn’t want or need pies with samples and a determination not to leave until they’d tasted them.

My stomach was in knots, and my hands shook as I walked into Max’s Bar & Grill. A red head wiped down the bar while football games played on the large-screen TVs hung on the wall.

“Can I help you?”

“I wanted to talk to the owner, Max, about carrying my pies.”

The woman frowned. “You’ve been in here before.”

“He hasn’t tasted my pies. If he’d try them, he’d see they’re irresistible, and he’d be the first place in town to carry them.”

She held up her finger, then threw the rag into a bucket behind the counter. She carefully washed her hands, then grabbed a plate and a fork.

Encouraged, I placed the boxes on the counter and opened them. I placed a sample size of each one on the plate.

“I’m Mallory, by the way,” she said as she took her first bite.

“Daphne Calloway.”

Her eyes fluttered closed as she chewed. “These are amazing. How do you get the crust so light and fluffy.”

I smiled, relaxing slightly. “It’s a secret recipe that I perfected over the years.”

Mallory tried the blueberry next.

“I use only the freshest fruits.”

“You’ve got a fan in me, but I’m just the manager. You have to talk to Max about carrying it as a dessert.”

A man appeared at Mallory’s side. “Why are you eating on my bar while you’re working?”

Mallory slapped his arm in a gesture that told me they were friendly, not just employee-employer. I hoped that would work in my favor. “Daphne wanted us to try her pies.” She winked at me. “They’re to die for.”

Max crossed his arms over his chest. “I already told you that my customers don’t want or like pies.”

My heart pounded. “Are you sure about that? We’re going into fall when apple and pumpkin pies will be expected. Even cherry and blueberry.” I gestured at the pies on the counter between us. “These small sizes are perfect for dessert.”

Mallory grabbed a clean fork and took a piece of the apple, offering it to Max. “Just try it.”

Max’s eyes narrowed on her, but he ate the morsel, chewed, then drank the water Mallory offered him. “It’s good.”

Mallory’s eyes widened. “They’re better than good. I don’t even like pie, and these are fabulous. Light and fluffy. The fruit is juicy and sweet.”

“Are you friends?” Max looked from her to me.

Mallory shook her head solemnly. “No.”

A woman came up behind Max and touched his back. Her straight brown hair just grazed her shoulder. “What’s this?”

“We’re sampling Daphne’s pies. Here, try a bite.” Mallory grabbed another fork and plated a slice.”

The woman ate a bite, slowly chewing before saying, “Oh, are you considering including these as a fall dessert option?”

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