Chapter 10 #2
I slid into my truck, pie riding shotgun, and headed to Paige.
The road narrowed, streetlights thinning until only the sound of the tires on gravel kept me company.
At the very edge of town, almost swallowed by the dark and mist, the Twilight Tavern waited.
Its parking lot stretched under a scatter of tired lamp posts and the pulsing violet haze of the neon sign, painting the world in a strange, hopeful hue.
I pulled in and cut the engine. For a minute, I just sat there, pie in hand, letting the silence settle. The parking lot was empty except for Paige’s car.
She was still here. Alone, probably tired, too damn stubborn to ask anyone for help. That part hadn’t changed. But something in me had.
I’d stopped by this place a hundred times. Shared a laugh, a drink, a story. But this… this wasn’t just dropping in anymore. My pulse was too loud in my ears for that.
I stared at the tavern door, feeling the weight of the pie in my hands. I wasn’t sure when it had shifted—when she had shifted in my mind—but now I couldn’t look at her without feeling like the ground under my feet was just slightly off. Like I was leaning toward something I couldn’t take back.
And suddenly, I was nervous. Anticipating the way she’d look at me. Speak to me. Whether she’d feel it too, that something was changing.
I blew out a slow breath, ran a hand over my face, and opened the door.
I knocked once on the glass and pushed the door open. Frowning at the fact that it was unlocked. The creak it made was loud enough to make a horror movie proud. I made a mental note to oil the hinges for her.
A split second later, I heard it—a sharp inhale, followed by the low, fierce scrape of something solid on the floor.
Then Paige appeared from behind the bar like a vengeful goddess, gripping a baseball bat with both hands.
“Jesus, Paige! It’s me. Hunter. Don’t kill me.”
Her eyes were wild, breath shallow. “You scared the hell out of me, Hunter Cassidy. I was this close to going full Final Girl on your ass. Everyone just left. I was about to lock up and finish closing.”
“Pretty sure I just lost ten years off my life,” I muttered, heart hammering.
She lowered the bat but didn’t let go of it.
“You can’t just sneak in here after hours like some bar-hopping vampire.
I’ve got baseball bats stashed in every corner for a reason.
I also have pepper spray in my apron. I’m almost forty, for fuck’s sake—I’m in perimenopause, also known as the coming of rage.
I could have killed you. You could be dead right now, then what?
” She huffed, chest rising and falling as her wild eyes met mine.
I knew I’d scared her, and I felt terrible. “Yeah, I can tell that you’re fully prepared for everything,” I said, holding up my free hand and the brown paper bag in the other. “But in my defense—I brought you a pie.”
Her grip loosened. Slightly. “Store-bought or bribe-grade?” Her eyes narrowed.
I grinned. “I made it.”
She blinked at me, and her hand loosened on the bat. “You baked a pie?”
“Of course I did. You think I’m just some guy who fixes cars and broods under the moonlight like a sneaky bar-hopping vampire? I’m a man of many talents, Paige. Baking included.”
Slowly, she leaned the bat against the bar. “Okay. I’m listening.”
I walked toward her, set the pie down on the counter like it was an offering to a very tired, very pretty deity, and slid onto a stool. “Apple. Homemade crust. Sugar crystals on top. A little bit of cinnamon and fresh nutmeg. Don’t act like you’re not impressed.”
“Your dad’s pie? The pie?” She crossed her arms and tried to look skeptical, but the twitch of her mouth gave her away. “Did you come here to woo me with baked goods and late-night handyman heroics?”
“Yes,” I said. “I’m also here to work on your freezer.”
That earned a smile—small but genuine. “So you just happened to bake a pie and wander over to repair my cursed appliances?”
“Yeah, that, and I heard you were closing the place alone. I don’t like that.”
Her brows lifted, but she didn’t argue.
“And yes,” I added, “I might’ve planned to bribe you with the pie. You’re not fond of accepting help, you know. Are you sure that stubborn is not your middle name? Joanne seems too tame for you.”
She lifted her chin as an amused grin slid across her face. “You're trouble. Have I mentioned that before?”
“You're the one who keeps texting me about mysterious freezer groaning noises at two in the morning. And the endless curse of your margarita machine.”
She smirked, finally walking around the bar and sliding into the stool next to me. “It sounds like it's dying. Or haunted.”
“I’ll take a look. But only after you have some pie. And then you’re going to let me seriously fix them. Not just a patch here or a new wire there. Okay?”
“Hmph.” She eyed the pie and dodged my request. “You always show up to places like this? With tools and baked goods? Or is this special treatment?”
“Only for you. And absolutely special treatment.” I let her dodge it. Flirting with her was more fun than insisting she let me help her.
She bit her lip, fighting a smile, and losing the battle.
“Fine,” she said, reaching for the pie. “But if this crust sucks, I’m firing you.”
“You don’t even pay me,” I teased.
“Then I’ll just spread rumors about your subpar pastry skills all over town. Or I’ll tell your dad on you.”
“I’ll take that risk.” I’d packed paper plates and forks in the bag.
Before she could cut a slice, I picked up a fork and scooped up a perfect bite, holding it out to her.
“Taste test. Official duties,” I said, nudging the fork closer.
She met my eyes, her mouth twitching, and then wrapped her fingers around mine, guiding the fork to her lips.
For a second, neither of us moved. It was just her touch, warm and sure, and the way her gaze didn’t waver.
She took the bite. Chewed. Paused. And then let out a low groan that I had absolutely no business hearing while sitting in her mostly empty bar this late at night.
“This is infuriating,” she muttered, hand over her mouth while she finished chewing.
“What is?”
“You being good at everything. It’s annoying.”
I grinned. “Just wait till I fix your freezer.”
“Oh, stop it. You’re going to ruin my whole worldview about men. I’ve been cultivating it for decades, Hunter. This is serious.”
“You’re welcome.”
She shook her head but took another bite, and I couldn’t stop watching her.
Her ponytail was a little loose, and her cheeks were flushed and lovely.
Her sleeves were shoved up like usual, and her sweatshirt said Whiskey Helps across the front in curling script.
And maybe whiskey could help. But I was starting to think maybe I could, too.
She looked up and caught me staring.
“What?” she asked, cheeks turning a pretty shade of pink.
“Nothing,” I said. “Just thinking this might be the best pie I’ve ever made.”
“Oh my god,” she groaned. “Stop flirting with me, or I’m going to throw a bar mat at your head.”
“Promise?”
She laughed, and it was the kind of sound that made everything else in the room blur out.
Then her expression softened, just a little.
“Thanks for showing up. I know you’re joking around, but it means something.
Having someone around at the end of the night.
It won’t be for long, just until I save enough to fix this place up the way I want it. ”
My chest tightened. “You never have to thank me for showing up, Paige. I’ll always be here for you.”
She blinked. Looked down at her pie. “That’s dangerous talk, Cassidy.”
“Only if you don’t mean it back.”
“I’m here for you, too, Hunter. Always.”
We sat there for a second too long.
Then she cleared her throat and shoved the pie box toward me. “Go fix my haunted freezer before I start writing your last name in hearts.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I stood and grabbed the tool bag I kept stashed under the counter at the side of the bar, and as I walked past her, I bent close and murmured just loud enough for her to hear: “You already know how to spell it, and it would look great next to Paige. Now we have the pact and the potential of the pie every Sunday. Think about it. You. Me. Your birthday. Dinner. It’s all back on the table whenever you’re ready. ”
She didn’t say anything. But she was definitely still blushing when I walked into the back room.
As I made my way to the back room, my mind kept circling around Paige—her laughter, the warmth in her eyes, the way she said my name.
The truth was, being around her always made my heart race a little faster, and tonight was no different.
I wanted more than just these quiet moments and inside jokes; I wanted all of her, but the fear of pushing too hard, too soon, lingered at the edges of my thoughts.
What if I ruined the comfort we’d finally found just because I couldn’t hold back how much I cared?
There was a pull between us I couldn’t ignore, but I knew I had to be careful. She deserved patience. Still, it was getting harder to pretend I didn’t notice the way her smile stuck with me long after she looked away.
Shaking my head, I forced the thoughts away, determined to focus on the work instead of the ache in my chest. I busied myself with the repair, letting the steady rhythm of my hands and the hum of tools drown out feelings I wasn’t ready to face.
Fixing the freezer was easier than trying to untangle the mess of emotions Paige stirred up, and for now, I’d rather hide behind the comfort of routine than risk saying too much.
“So, the evaporator fan motor’s making a noise. I hear it this time,” I called as I crouched down with my flashlight. I frowned, angling the light deeper into the housing. “That’s weird.”
Her footsteps echoed over the floor behind me as she approached. “What?” she asked, bending to look over my shoulder.
“See right here?” I pointed. “It looks like the wiring has been loosened. Not frayed. It’s like someone actually unscrewed part of the clamp here.” I glanced up at her. “But it could be nothing. Maybe it rattled loose on its own.”
“This place is full of quirks,” she said, waving it off. “It’s just old.”
“You’re probably right,” I muttered as I fixed it.