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A whimper escaped her lips. “When do the grocery stores open? I need to bake four more pies by nine o’clock.”

“Restaurant pies,” Grandma emphasized.

Marlowe shook her head, small tremors of defeat. “I don’t think restaurants that serve pie are open before nine, and even if they are, what are the chances that any of them have homemade apple pies that they’re willing to sell me? I’ll have to get up early in the morning to bake them.”

“Marlowe…” Jace said, and his voice was so gentle, his eyes so sympathetic that his compassion made her feel worse instead of better.

Along with the panic that churned through her chest, her throat tightened. “It’s fine. The pies might not be at the bazaar exactly at nine o’clock, but the silent auction goes for a while. Just tell your mother I ran into some difficulties, and I’ll get them to her.”

“Or,” Grandma said, “he could tell her that you were struck down by illness, and since your pies are now germ-laden, you had to destroy them.”

“No,” Marlowe said firmly. “I told her I would do this. I don’t want her to think I’m the sort of person who flakes out.”

Jace stepped behind Marlowe, put his hands on her shoulders, and began massaging the muscles there. “You don’t have to get up at the crack of dawn to make more pies. In fact, sleep in and miss the bazaar if you want. I’ll take care of the problem.”

If only she could skip out on the responsibility so easily. “Take care of it how?”

“Just give me the pies,” he murmured, “and I’ll make sure everything is okay.”

“How?” She would have turned to see his expression, but she was enjoying the massage too much.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said.

Grandma nodded knowingly in his direction. “You’re going to pull the old trip while you’re carrying them and accidentally fling them onto the ground trick, aren’t you?” More nodding. “I’ve used that one myself.” To Marlowe, she added, “Oh, go ahead and judge me. I had a very exacting mother-in-law.” She pulled out a cookie sheet and set the apple pies on it.

Marlowe leaned her head back, trying to see Jace’s expression. “Are you going to air them out or something? Does that work to get rid of the smoke taste?”

He leaned toward her ear and whispered, “Maybe I’m going to bake you some new ones. You told me you liked my ulterior baking motives.”

Yes, she had. Although she hadn’t expected him to do it at six in the morning when he’d been out late with her. She was about to volunteer to come over and help him when she realized the flaw in that plan. “Wait, you can’t bake pies at your house. That’s as good as telling your mother I’m a horrible cook.” Marlowe shut her eyes, leaning into the warmth of Jace’s hands. “Unless you do the trip thing first. That might work.”

And that’s what she’d sunk to. She was considering her grandmother’s questionable advice.

Their lowered voices drew Grandma’s attention. She plunked down the second cookie sheet with a deliberate clatter. “Suddenly, I can guess why you forgot to set the buzzer.” She gave them a wink as she put the chocolate pies on top of it. “Am I going to have to install chaperones in the kitchen?”

Jace’s hands fell away from Marlowe’s shoulders and he checked his watch. “It’s late. I should be going.”

Oh, that phrase. Marlowe was absolutely beginning to hate it.

He took the cookie sheet with the apple pies, and she carried the one with the s’mores pies to his car with him. They put them in the back.

“So…” she said after he shut the door, “this changes things.”

He slipped his hands around her waist and grinned. “It does. A good change.” He kissed her on the forehead. It was a light kiss, almost a friendly one, until he seemed to think better of it and added a kiss to her temple, then her cheekbone. He smelled so good, a combination of cinnamon and cologne.

“Are we dating for real now?” she asked. “Or did I become a fake girlfriend with benefits?”

He laughed and pulled her closer. He was still dropping kisses along her cheek. “We failed at the fake part. It’s all real.”

Real was good. Her heart lifted.

“The problem,” he murmured against her skin, “is that I don’t have long until I go back to California.” The words seemed to put a damper on his mood. He released a weary breath and rested his chin on her head. “And then…” His sentence drifted off into a question, into sadness.

She suddenly had flashbacks to their last define-the-relationship conversation at Safeway. That one had ended with a breakup, a near shoplifting charge, and Lucas committing test fraud for his brother.

Before Jace could say anything else, she blurted out, “Let’s not think about that right now.”

His hand ran along her back, soft, caressing. “My classes will start whether we think about them or not.”