Olivia Miles - Recipe for Romance

A rumble went up in the crowd, but Emily barely noticed it. Her chest heaved with each breath as she stared at him, remembering the way his mouth used to curve when he saw her across the room, the way his brow would lift ever so slightly, the way he would quietly come up to her and place one hand on her hip. Lifting her chin, Emily marched back into the bakery, ignoring the way the crowd hushed and then slowly started to whisper with speculation. She walked around the counter, grabbed Scott’s beloved cherry pie from its stand, and beelined back to the door. An audible gasp released from the crowd as she stepped onto the sidewalk, but they were of no concern to her at the moment. There was only one person on her mind, and he had it coming. This was well overdue.

“Emily—” Scott’s old buddy Jack started, but she nailed him with a hard look and he clamped his mouth.

She positioned herself before she lost her nerve, but the adrenaline pumping in her veins showed no signs of slowing. She locked eyes with her target, noticing the way his brow had furrowed to a point. He let out a nervous chuckle. This is for stealing my heart, Scott. She pulled her arm back, fixing her eye on that lopsided grin that quickly vanished as she released the aluminum pan, sending it flying in his direction. And that’s for breaking it.

She knew even before it hit him square in the face that her aim was perfect. And he knew it, too—she saw his expression dissolve into one of frozen shock just before the pie slammed into him, dead center, knocking him slightly to the left. Bright red filling oozed from the sides of the flimsy pan as it slowly slid down his nose. Scott swiped at the cherries and bits of crust that clung to his face, his eyes wide and confused, and for a moment, Emily almost felt sorry for what she had done. But then she remembered. He was no friend of hers. And she had nothing to apologize for. That was his department.

The crowd was laughing now, but Emily wasn’t amused. Blindly muttering something to Lucy about going back inside to man the counter, she wove through the throng of onlookers, ducked into the empty storefront, and pushed past the swinging door to the kitchen. And only then, only when she was sure no one would ever see or ever know, did she allow herself to cry over Scott Collins.

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