Forgive and Forget(19)

“This is the filling for my cherry pie.” Joe’s smile lit the room, and Tom smiled too. Though lately, he seemed to always find himself smiling. It felt… nice.

“Is that your favorite?”

Joe stared at him. “How’d you know that?”

“You have a big, sappy grin on your face.”

“As opposed to the big, sappy one on yours?” Joe snorted, mixing his cherry filling. “I offer three different pies a day. Today is Thursday, so it’s cherry, chocolate cream, and blackberry. Fridays is lemon, banana cream, and peanut butter. Saturdays it’s caramel with pecan, strawberry, and key lime. Sundays we’re closed. Mondays we have pecan, cranberry with apple, and blueberry. Tuesdays it’s apple, lemon meringue, and peach. Wednesdays we have apple and cinnamon, coconut cream, and pear. All the pies for today have already been made and are being eaten as we speak. This is for later. As soon as I’m done, we’ll go downstairs and have some breakfast.”

“Wow.” It was all Tom could think of to say. The man was amazing. “How long have you been up?”

“Since four thirty. I slept in a little,” Joe replied, his cheeks going a little rosy.

“Jesus, there’s a four thirty?” Tom asked, only half joking. “Wait, that’s sleeping in for you?”

Joe rolled his eyes. “Yes, there is a four thirty. If I woke up at nine every morning, I wouldn’t have any customers. It’s sleeping in for me Monday through Friday. Saturday we open up later. I’m usually up before five. Sundays I sleep in until seven or eight.”

“I don’t always sleep in until nine,” Tom stated, feeling somewhat affronted. He wasn’t quite sure how he knew that, but he was somehow sure. “Unless I’m out really late. I don’t really keep regular hours. Besides, it’s not as if my routine has been normal lately.”

“Tom, not everyone likes mornings. It’s nothing to get defensive about,” Joe went on, adding a pinch of something to the bowl of cherry filling and looking as calm as could be. Meanwhile, Tom frowned.

“I wouldn’t feel defensive even if I didn’t like mornings, but as it happens, I do like mornings, very much,” Tom huffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You seem a little cranky this morning. Why don’t you go back to sleep for a while. Maybe you’ll feel better when you wake up.”

“I’m not cranky! I don’t want to go back to sleep.” He pouted. Why was he pouting? Joe was right—he was being cranky. Dammit.

Joe gave him a pointed look. “There’s that face again.”

“What face!” After an exasperated sigh, Tom decided it best he take a deep breath and assess the situation. Somewhere, something went awry, and after backtracking a moment, he realized that something was him. “Okay, maybe I am a little cranky this morning. I’m sorry.” What the hell had gotten into him? He wasn’t normally prone to angry outbursts. Was he? No, he was sure he wasn’t. Aw, hell, he didn’t even know which way he was facing anymore, and that wasn’t good for either of them.

“What’s wrong?” Joe cleaned his hands on a paper towel and turned to him, all patience and understanding, making Tom feel like a jerk.

“It’s just so damn irritating,” he said. “Every time I feel I might be on the verge of remembering something, that cloud—that fuzzy image of colors, shapes, and sounds pulsing in my mind’s eye—just stops and stays there, floating and taunting me. Like a melody you can hear clearly in your head but can’t quite remember the lyrics or the voice that goes with it. I thought I’d find something in my jacket that would put me on the right track to remembering who I am. Maybe something we missed in the lining.” He shook his head. “Nothing but dirt.”

“Yeah, you were kind of covered in the stuff. It was in your pockets too. Thought I’d gotten all of it. I’m sorry, Tom. We’ll find a lead. You’ll see. Getting yourself worked up and frustrated isn’t going to do you any good, all right? Some hot breakfast, good coffee, and you’ll be all set for sleuthing. I’ll see to it that Bea whips up something special for us. Then we can come back up here, grab my laptop, and see what we can find.”

How did the man do that? A few words and Tom felt like he could take on the world. If Joe told him it would be okay, Tom had no doubts that it would be. He found himself feeling lighthearted again.

“Thanks, Joe.”

“No problem,” Joe replied with a sweet smile that made Tom’s pulse quicken. Then he realized what Joe said.

“Us? You mean you haven’t had breakfast yet?”

Joe’s cheeks flushed while he went back to his ingredients. “No, I thought it’d be best if we had breakfast together. You know, to make it easier for Bea,” he explained feebly, not tearing his gaze away from the table. “Less for her to worry about.”

Joe waiting to eat breakfast had nothing to do with convenience. Tom held back a smile. “Thanks.”

Joe nodded, going back to his baking, and Tom went back to watching him, mesmerized by Joe’s graceful hands as he stirred the mixture, adding dashes and drops of various ingredients, a faraway look coming onto his handsome face, one he seemed to get when involved with his pies.

Despite the daydreaming, Joe’s hands never missed a beat, and he scooped the filling into the piecrust. Once it was all in, he removed his gloves and swiped his finger along the inside of the bowl. Tom nearly fell off his chair when Joe sucked and licked his finger, completely oblivious to how incredibly arousing the gesture was. Down, boy.