His eyes grew wide as a kid’s. “You’re kidding. There’s such a thing as Butter Pie?”
“My specialty. Made just this morning. ”
“Is it really what it sounds like it is?” He stepped closer to take an appreciative sniff. “My life has been incomplete. ”
“It’s exactly what it sounds like. Butter, sugar, vanilla, eggs. Some whipped cream on top. Some people add cranberries but—”
“Cranberries?” he interrupted. “Why mess with beige perfection?”
She giggled, and it was a good sound. “Should we go for broke?”
He gave her a hearty nod. “Hell, yeah. ”
“Grab some ice cream. A little more beige never hurt anyone. ” She pointed to one of the drawers. “Scooper’s in there. ”
He snagged the ice cream, scoop, and a stack of plates, and followed her back into the dining room, practically salivating from the wonderful smell.
Laura peered at the pie dish, frowning. “Is that what I think it is?”
“Yup,” Sorrow said, and the change in her attitude was visible.
Laura folded her napkin and put it onto her plate. “You know I can’t eat that. ”
Sorrow’s arms and shoulders were stiff as she put the dish onto a trivet. “If you’d told me you were coming, I’d have baked my famous Splenda and Air Pie instead. ”
Billy choked back a laugh, cheering inside. If the other woman was going to be so uptight, he was glad they’d added a big tub of ice cream to the spread. All the better to torture her with. As he sat back down, he told her, “I say you’re crazy. ”
“Crazy, huh?” Laura got a glint in her eye that made him wish he’d kept his mouth shut. “Why am I crazy?”
“To pass up this food. Your sister’s cooking is some of the best I’ve ever had. ”
Laura gave him a coy smile. “So you’re saying, I don’t need to watch my figure?”
What the hell was he saying? This woman was a wily one—was she baiting him? Flirting with him? All he knew was, he’d better watch out for these land mines. “I’m saying…I’m gonna shut up and eat some Butter Pie. ” And he took a giant bite to prove his point.
They all laughed. Except for Sorrow.
He looked over at her. If anyone was becoming a friend in this town, it was her, and he automatically sought her gaze to share the moment. But her eyes were flat, pinned on her sister.
He knew women. He’d been married. He’d had many women friends through the years, a number of female coworkers. He appreciated the fairer sex, listened to them, enjoyed their perspective, their company. And so he recognized her expression.
It was jealousy.
Fifteen
Laura pointed angrily at the TV. “What the hell is she making?” She was sprawled in one corner of their giant sectional couch and turned to glare at Sorrow seated stiffly in the other.
Sorrow grabbed the remote and made a show of upping the volume. “I don’t know, Laura. I can’t hear over your talking. ”
Laura leaned over and snatched it from her. “It’s 4:00, there must be a talk show on. She’s just cooking—how is that interesting?”
“Please. I just want one little break. ” Sorrow snatched back the remote. “I was working all morning. I’ll be working in the tavern all night. What have you been doing all day? I have this one tiny window when I can relax, and this is what I want to watch. If you’re so bored, why don’t you go do something?”
“I don’t know what to do,” Laura moaned.
“You sound like you’re twelve. You should finish unpacking. You brought enough stuff to clothe an army. ”
Laura slumped into the couch, ignoring the suggestion. “Do we have to watch the Food Network?”