She laughed as she unpacked the bags. “If you’d woken up sooner, we could’ve had both. No, let me unpack. I know where I want everything.”

He shrugged and left her to it. “I guess I’ll hit the gym then, especially since pies are in my future. If you’ve got the receipt or remember what you spent, I’ll pay you back.”

She stopped. “Why?”

“You shouldn’t have to buy the supplies,” he said absently as he pulled a bottle of Gatorade out of the fridge.

“And you should?” She couldn’t stop the line of heat that rode up her spine.

“Well, it’s—”

“Your house?” she finished.

“Yes. But I was going to say it’s more . . . equitable since you’re doing the work.”

“Nobody did any work last night when we all went out to dinner and you picked up the check.”

“That was just . . .What’s the problem? Somebody else will get it next time.”

“Do you think I care about your money? Do you think I’m with you because you can pick up dinner checks and have a place like this?”

He lowered the bottle. “Jesus, Laurel, where did that come from?”

“I don’t want to be paid back. I don’t want to be taken care of, and you can screw equitable because that’s never going to happen. But I can pay my own way, and I can buy my own damn supplies when I want to make some pies.”

“Okay. I’m a little puzzled why offering to pay you back for a bunch of lemons pisses you off, but since it does, offer rescinded.”

“You don’t get it,” she muttered as Linda’s jeering hired help echoed in her mind. “Why would you?”

“Why don’t you explain it to me?”

She shook her head. “I’m going to bake. Baking makes me happy.” She reached for the remote, turned on music at random. “So, go work out.”

“That’s the plan.” But he set down the bottle to take her face in his hands, study it. “Be happy,” he said. Kissed her, grabbed the bottle again, and left.

“I was,” she murmured. “Will be again.” Determined, she began arranging her supplies and ingredients as suited her.

Mal walked in while she cut shortening into her flour mixture for the pastry dough.

“I love seeing a woman who knows what she’s doing in the kitchen.”

“Glad to oblige.”

He went to the coffeepot, judged the remainder stale, tossed it. “I’m going to make a fresh pot.You want?”

“No, I’ve had enough.”

“So, what’s on the menu?”

“Pies.” She heard the edge in her voice, made the effort to dull it. “Lemon meringue and cherry.”