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Chris looked at his watch. “Clearly the hot by noon wears off once the sun goes down,” he declared.
“What’s that?” Tex asked, rubbing his hands together.
Hayley looked up. “Homemade whipped cream. French Vanilla.”
“I don’t know,” Hawk said. “French Vanilla.”
“Then call it Freedom Vanilla!” Tex argued. “Who cares? Load me up a slice of pie with Freedom Vanilla, Slick. And don’t be stingy.”
Chris set down a stack of plates next to her and she dished out a slice of peach pie with the plastic server. She added a large dollop of cream and handed it to Tex along with a fork. He took a big bite and moaned loudly. “Oh, yeah,” Tex declared. “So much better than day old pizza.”
Chris filled his own plate, took a bite, and concurred that it was the best peach pie he’d ever eaten. Then he pointed his fork at Hayley. “This doesn’t count for Sunday. You’re still making me something else.”
She crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I told you. They’re not for you.”
“Don’t argue with her,” Tex demanded around a mouthful of peach pie. “If she likes us, she might bring us more next week.”
Hayley looked at Tex. “What’s next week?”
“Thursday night is Poker Night,” Tex informed her. “We usually rotate houses, but, I mean, if you were gonna make something anyway, and we just happened to be over here….”
Hayley leaned against the counter, mulling this opportunity. “I need chocolate cake,” she announced. “But it’s dangerous for a woman living alone to bake a whole chocolate cake.”
Tex grinned. “I love chocolate cake. And I can see how that might become a problem.”
Chris smiled. “We can all see how that’s a problem.”
Hayley gasped.
“Oh, shit,” Hawk muttered.
“What?” Chris asked innocently. “Like she hasn’t noticed her tips getting better now that she’s filling out those jeans a little more. Helps to have a stove, Slick. Ought to be more grateful for that stove.”
“Did you just call me fat?!” Hayley shrieked.
The smile died on Chris’s face. “No,” he protested. “I didn’t. I said-”
Hayley gaped at him. “I cannot believe you! I made you a peach pie. From scratch, even the crust! And you tell me I’m too fat for my clothes. Who does that?”
“A man who just screwed us out of chocolate cake,” Tex growled. “Doc! Go outside while I shoot him in leg, then come back in and give him first aid.”
Hayley turned and stormed out the open back door.
************************
“What?” Chris snapped at the men glaring at him in his own kitchen.
“Duke Poofy Pants would never call a woman fat,” Doc said.
“I didn’t!”
“Duke Poofy Pants loves women just the way they are,” said Hawk.
“I do!”
“I like a woman with a little meat on her bones,” Tex mused.
“So do I!” Chris growled. “And I didn’t say she was fat. I said she looked good. In fact, she could stand to gain a few more pounds But none of that matters because it’s just lunch!”
“I don’t think you’re gettin’ lunch,” Tex declared.
“Nope,” said Doc. “No more lunch. Hope it was good and leaves you with fond memories.”
“Might have you over for lunch,” Hawk speculated. “Might spit in your burger. Piss in your lemonade. I’d avoid lemonade if you go back over there.”
“She doesn’t make it anyway. She makes this weird sugar tea. But the sandwiches and cookies were good,” Chris said, wistfully looking at the open back door.
“Jesus H. Christ!” Tex bellowed. “You found a woman who makes Sweet Tea?” He pointed at the door. “You go! You get your ass over there ASAP and do whatever you have to do to secure me chocolate cake and sweet tea!”
Chris looked at the leftover pie. “It was good pie.”
“That is the best pie. They write songs about pie like that!” Tex yelled.
“American Pie,” Doc said helpfully.
“Cherry Pie,” said Hawk, “ ‘Cept with peaches. And I’m pretty sure there’s cinnamon in this pie.”
“There is!” Tex shouted. “And I’m betting my left nut there’s nutmeg in there, too. And French Vanilla topping. That ain’t no regular topping. That’s fancy ass vanilla! I finally found a woman who can take over some of my KP duties, so you better channel your inner Duke Poofy Pants and go smooth this over!”
*********************
Chris tapped the sliding glass door. Slick opened the glass partition but not the screen. “I’m too busy eating the entire contents of my fridge,” she told him.
He smiled to himself. “Thank you for making that pie for me.”
She hesitated. “I didn’t make it for you.”
“You said you did. Crust, too. That was some damn good crust.”
“I-” she started to argue, but gave up. “Okay. I made you the pie. For taking me to the store.”
“You made the cookies for taking you to the store.”
“Now who’s busting whose balls?” she grumbled.
Chris grinned. “Got me there.”
“I made you the pie because we both know you’re getting screwed.”
