disorder was brought on to some degree because her father abandoned her, or did I get that part wrong?” He didn’t wait for an answer before charging, “You made that happen.”
“That’s a little simplistic,” Dana Sue said, though neither of them even looked at her.
Helen was practically nose-to-nose with Erik. “Where do you get off making an accusation like that?”
“Just calling it like I see it, sweetheart.”
“Go to hell,” Helen said, nudging Dana Sue until she moved out of the way so that Helen could slide out of the curved booth on the opposite side. She glanced at Dana Sue as she grabbed her shoes out from under the table. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, then scowled at Erik. “I suggest you skip the meeting.”
“Not a chance,” he said. “Somebody has to make sure common sense reigns.”
“And you have to be that somebody?” Helen asked. “How do you feel about that, Dana Sue?”
“I’m pretty much shell-shocked by the way this entire conversation has spun out of control,” Dana Sue responded. “What is wrong with you two? I’ve never seen either of you act like this before.”
“I guess know-it-all attorneys bring out the worst in me,” Erik said stiffly.
“And judgmental men, who won’t even listen to reason, bring it out in me,” Helen said.
Erik gave her a once-over that made her blood almost as hot as her temper. “I guess that means you won’t be wanting your pie, since I baked it.”
The reminder of that peach pie, which had been all she could think about as she’d worked in the kitchen, created a major dilemma. Her mouth still watered when she thought about it. Her pride dictated she not let him know that.
“I never said that,” she said huffily, then stalked into the kitchen and picked up the entire pie from the counter.
One bite, she thought as she drew in a deep breath and savored the aroma. What could it hurt? She put the pie down, grabbed a fork and dug into the fragrant peach mixture and flaky crust, then sighed as her temper simmered down a notch. Maybe two bites, she decided. Erik would never know. She ate the second mouthful, then picked up the pie again, marched straight back into the dining room and, before she could talk herself out of it, threw the remainder straight into his shocked face.
Beside him, Dana Sue sucked in a startled breath, then fought to contain laughter. Helen watched as the pie oozed down Erik’s face and onto his T-shirt. She was so intent on watching it spread across his impressive chest that she apparently missed the wicked glint in his eyes until it was too late.
Before she could make a dash for it, he’d wiped most of the pie off his face and was on his feet. In an instant, he had his arms around her, his hot, demanding mouth on hers and the remains of that incredible peach pie crushed indelibly into her silk blouse.
Helen figured she could always buy another blouse, but it was going to take a whole lot longer to erase the memory of Erik’s breath-stealing kiss from her head, especially with Dana Sue as an obviously fascinated witness. Dana Sue wouldn’t let her forget it in this lifetime. And since there were still a couple of diners left in the restaurant and this was Serenity, it would be all over town by morning. Helen Decatur, the Sweet Magnolia with the most common sense, the one who got people out of trouble, had just landed in a pile of it.
When Erik finally released Helen from that ill-advised kiss, he cast Dana Sue an apologetic look, then headed for the kitchen. He needed to figure out what kind of insanity had possessed him to first taunt and then kiss a woman like Helen Decatur.
She was a pushy, arrogant, know-it-all attorney, but she was also his boss’s best friend and a regular customer at Sullivan’s. Moreover, on more than one occasion including tonight, she had willingly pitched in to help them out of a jam in the kitchen.
Maybe that was the problem, he concluded. It was one thing to disapprove of the fancy clothes and pretensions, but in the kitchen at Sullivan’s he’d seen another side of her. He’d seen a woman who cared more about her friend and what she needed than she did about such superficial things as her designer clothes. She also checked her ego at the door and did whatever was asked of her without complaint. She did it damn well, too, if he was being totally honest. He actually liked her, most of the time, anyway. Tonight she’d just gotten under his skin for some reason. Despite what he’d said, he did know she’d never choose someone else’s side over Dana Sue’s.
Baiting her, he could understand. Kissing her, well, that was a whole other story, one destined for an unhappy ending. He’d crossed a line, a move for which he’d have to apologize eventually.
Of course, he couldn’t help remembering that she’d kissed him back. In fact, she’d kissed him with such unexpected heat and passion, it had sent him running for cover. He hadn’t run from a female since Susie Mackinaw had planted an unwanted kiss on him in third grade to the accompaniment of jeers from his friends.
No, he amended, pouring himself a cup of coffee and drinking it as he methodically began to clean the kitchen. The truth was he’d been running from women since his wife had died in childbirth. An EMT in Atlanta at the time, he’d been with Samantha in the ambulance after she’d gone into premature labor and begun hemorrhaging. The ride to the hospital had taken an eternity, and even before they’d arrived in the emergency room, he’d known it was too late. Sam had lost way too much blood, her vitals were fading and the baby was too early to be saved.
That was the day his heart had been ripped from his chest, right along with his ability to function in his job. If an EMT couldn’t do something to save his own wife, how could he ever trust himself to help anyone else?
After a month’s leave, during which he’d drunk himself into a stupor every single day, he’d walked into his boss’s office and quit. Gabe Sanchez had argued with him, pleaded with him to get some counseling and then come back, but Erik had known that his days in any career tied to health care were over.
He might have drifted aimlessly after that, but a friend of his wife’s had suggested he go to the Atlanta Culinary Institute. Erik had laughed at the idea at first, but Bree had kept badgering. Her husband had added his support for the idea as well.
“Out of our entire crowd, you’re the best cook, hands down,” Bree had told him. “More important, you enjoy it. If nothing else, taking the classes will get you out of this funk you’re in. Once you graduate, who knows? Maybe you can open your own restaurant or become a caterer or just come to my house once a month and cook for Ben and me and the kids. It doesn’t matter. The distraction is what’s important. Sam would hate what you’re doing to yourself. She wouldn’t want you to grieve forever.”
Erik might have dismissed the whole idea if Bree hadn’t shown up on his doorstep a few days later with application forms. She’d sat right there while he filled them out, then written a check herself, tucked it all in an envelope and taken it with her to mail. Obviously she hadn’t wanted to leave anything to chance.
“Consider it a gift toward your future from Ben and me,” she said. “When you’re running your own restaurant, you can pay us back with free dinners on our anniversaries.”
A few weeks later, he’d been accepted and shortly after that he’d taken his first classes. By the end of the first month, he knew it was the best decision he’d ever made, next to marrying Samantha. By the time graduation rolled
