Читать книгу Cooking Up Romance - Lynne Marshall - Страница 11
ОглавлениеSunday night, Zack sat at the kitchen table and caught up on some paperwork while his ten-year-old daughter, Emma, heated canned soup in a pot and made her one and only specialty—grilled cheese sandwiches.
“Dad, can I cut up some carrots and add it to the soup? It’ll make it more healthy.”
“Hmm?” Concentrating on organizing business receipts, he’d only tuned in for the last couple words. “Healthier,” he corrected. Their deal was, if she wanted to cook, which she wanted to do all the time lately, he had to be in the kitchen with her.
“Yes, that’s what I’m saying.” She let go a large and loud sigh, her current favorite thing to do whenever he corrected her or didn’t pay enough attention, which he’d just done both.
“Sure.” He laid down his pencil and pushed the pile of papers aside, because he had some making up to do and business could wait. Since his divorce, he’d made a promise to himself, on behalf of Emma, to be all he could be for his daughter. “I’ll watch.”
Another sigh, but she also smiled, a look he treasured. He stood nearby as she used the peeler and carefully cut small round pieces from the thin carrot, then tossed them into the heating chicken-and-rice soup. She smiled up at him again as she did, making his insides warm right up to his chin. How could his ex-wife turn her back on their daughter?
He squeezed her shoulder. “Good job,” he said, which garnered another smile from her.
Emma had the cutest overbite in the world, and he dreaded the day some friend might tease her about it and she’d suddenly be all about getting braces or those new invisible things. The condition affected her two front teeth as if her tongue—or thumb as a baby—had pushed them that way. Mild at best, the teeth only stuck out a tiny bit. And yes, she had sucked her thumb back then. Self-soothing, the pediatrician had called it. Soon enough, when she and her friends started taking selfies and she could compare her smile with theirs, she’d probably catch on and become self-conscious about the small imperfection. Why did everyone need to have perfect teeth anyway? He loved her just the way she was.
“You gonna watch me grill the sandwiches?”
“Of course.”
“I know how to be safe. When’s the last time I got burned?” Occasionally she’d test out being a preteen, and without a woman’s input he was often taken off guard.
“I can’t remember.” It was easy being benevolent with Emma. Come to think of it, he was the last person to get burned while scrambling eggs, but he didn’t need to remind her.
“You can set the table.” At ten she’d already learned to delegate—his kind way of avoiding calling his daughter bossy. He figured it was because Emma didn’t have a mother figure, and his guilt over that helped him put up with a lot. Not that she was spoiled. He cleared his throat. “I’ll let you know when I’m ready to start the sandwiches.”
He did a double take. “Yes, ma’am.” She looked like a natural standing on a footstool, fixing their dinner. When had she become so grown-up?
She’d had to suffer through his mediocre cooking since her mother left a year and a half ago. Mona was only so-so in the kitchen, too, so the poor kid didn’t exactly have the best training. Lately, though, Emma had discovered the Junior Chefs series on TV and had been nagging him to let her take cooking lessons. At ten? How would he even go about finding a person to teach a child cooking? The kids on that show probably had parents who were culinary geniuses. Was cooking an inherited trait? If so, sweet Emma was doomed.
She may have inherited the brown hair and eyes from her mother, but their personalities were miles apart. For that he was deeply grateful. Where Emma was naturally bright and sunny, even if a little bossy, Mona had always been moody and hard to read. Maybe because she’d been more interested in flirting with doctors at the hospital in Ventura, where she’d worked, than keeping a home going and teaching her daughter how to grill herself a sandwich. Or better yet, making one for her. But he’d promised not to be resentful about the whole mess of their failed marriage, so he took a breath and tried to let it go.
Mona had cheated on him exactly once, that she’d admit to anyway. She said it was just her luck that she had gotten caught. Not by him. No. By the hospital, while making out in the ward supply closet with one of the orthopedic residents. Turned out they’d been doing more than that at various spots in the hospital for months. Which blew her one-off excuse right out of the water. For once, justice had been served, since both nurse and doctor lost their jobs.
When Zack filed for a divorce, Mona moved out. He’d assumed a custody battle would follow, but it never happened. He shook his head at the incredulous memory. How could she leave this beautiful child behind? Not even fight for her. He squeezed Emma’s shoulder again after she flipped the sandwiches and gazed up proudly at him. “See? I know how to be careful.”
“Well done.”
They’d gotten off to a rocky start after Mona had left, Emma hurt and missing her mom, him angry and nearly devastated by Mona’s lies. But they’d made it through their first Christmas, then Easter and both of their birthdays together, and they seemed to be getting the hang of this father-daughter thing. Just the two of them. His little girl deserved a happy normal life, and he was determined to give it to her.
Cooking lessons. Where did you send a kid for such things?
She made an exaggerated inhale. “Sure smells good. My mouth is watering.” Her chocolate-colored eyes lit up. “Remember that delicious wrap you brought home for me Friday?”
How could he forget. It was the best meal he’d had all week. “Yeah, you wouldn’t share it with me.”
“Because you already had your half!”
True, but he could’ve easily eaten the rest without Emma ever knowing about it.
“Anyways,” she said, “That would’ve gone great with this soup.”
“So will the grilled cheese. You have a knack for pairing food.”
Raising a ten-year-old daughter by himself often baffled him. He only wanted to do right by her, but he worried in the beginning he messed up more than he got things right. Their life together was leveling out now, the two of them had gotten closer, and he cared about this small human being more than he ever thought possible. The last thing he wanted to do was throw things out of kilter again.
He’d love to see Emma learn how to cook if that was what she really wanted, since his talents were in construction not the kitchen. Even his burgers left something to be desired, often dry and tasteless, in need of extra ketchup and mustard.
Because of that TV show, Emma had recently shown a huge interest in the subject of cooking. Wasn’t it a practical life skill everyone should learn? Besides, he didn’t want to raise the girl on fast food. She deserved better.
His mind went back to the redhead, Lacy, for about the dozenth time over the weekend, and it wasn’t strictly over the fact she was a great cook. Mona had caused him to recoil from all things female, which made thinking about Lacy all the more aggravating. It’d been a long time since he’d even noticed a woman, but how could a guy not notice that amazing red hair and those eyes that looked like a piece of the sky itself? See, that’s where he could get himself into trouble, and who needed the frustration at this stage in life. She was a great cook, too, from what he’d tasted so far. He’d slipped up and sort of hired her. Temporarily, he reminded himself. But it was probably a big mistake. What had he been thinking? Hopefully, his crew would like her wraps as much as he had.
“Starting tomorrow, when you have to come to work with me, we can share your choice of wrap three days a week.” Easter and spring break had rolled back around, which meant no school. Last year it had cost a fortune to send her to day camp at the YMCA; this year he figured she was old enough to entertain herself and still get some extra dad time.
The bit about the wrap got Emma’s complete attention, her big brown eyes watching him as if he held the key to life.
“The food truck that wrap came from is going to be parking at my construction site for lunch tomorrow, Wednesday and Friday.”
“Really? Yay, I can’t wait!” Emma ladled soup into bowls with such excitement that a lot wound up on the counter.
He grabbed a paper towel and mopped up the hot spillage. “You’re gonna like her truck. It’s pink.”
“My favorite color!”
That truth hadn’t gone unnoticed the day Lacy had driven up. He threw out the paper towel and got a sponge for the rest of the cleanup. “Don’t forget to bring things to keep yourself busy tomorrow.”
“Like my crocheting? And my Bettina Ballerina books?”
“If you like. Anything but watching movies. You’re going to have to entertain yourself a lot while I work.”
“Like I have to do around here?”
That stung, but it was true. “You’re good at it, aren’t you?”
She nodded, gave that adorable smile, and all he wanted to do was hug his little girl.
“Everything’s ready, Dad,” Emma said, pure pride in her high-toned voice.
“Wow, this looks great.” The sandwiches were browned to perfection, then placed on small plates with a pickle spear each, and the soup was in wide bowls, steam rising from the warm broth. He carried the hot stuff to the table and let her handle the grilled cheese.
“It’s called presentation.”
She’d obviously learned that from the Junior Chefs show, because he simply threw food on the plates. His kid had already figured out how to arrange things to make them look inviting. The next thought hit with a ball of anxiety: he’d be in way over his head by the time she was a teenager.
“Someday, I want to be a cook for a big restaurant,” she said, delivering her plates, then rushing to grab some paper napkins. “I just need to learn how.”
“Shortcake, I don’t doubt you’ll be able to do anything you put your mind to.” He sat. “Now let’s eat. I’m so hungry I may need seconds.”
Halfway through the meal he got an idea. “Maybe we can search online for some kid-friendly recipes that you can try right here at home. And I can help.” Maybe he’d pick up a few cooking tips, too, as it would be right at his level.
Her already large eyes nearly doubled in size. “Could we?”
His eleven-year marriage may have hit the dumpster, but he’d struck pure gold with his daughter.
Lacy arrived home from the wedding job and got right to work cleaning the truck. A few minutes in, it occurred she hadn’t updated her social media today. She accessed her page on her cell phone, and where it asked the question What’s on your mind? she posted: Worked a wedding today at the Natural History Museum. So Pretty. Have a new job starting tomorrow. Can’t wait. To encourage interaction, on a whim, she asked: Do you believe everyone has a double somewhere out there? Then she posted a couple pictures of the museum surroundings, and the backs of several of the hat wearers’ heads because they looked so springlike and pretty. Before she signed off to get back to work, she’d already picked up a few likes but, so far, no comments.
She had a big day tomorrow and needed to set up for the Gardner construction-site job. Saturday she’d prepared and marinated the steak and chicken in twenty-gallon plastic containers, enough for both the wedding and the new job. Half of it was left in the industrial-sized refrigerator in the garage for tomorrow. She’d also made up the tuna and egg salads, chopped all the veggies, diced potatoes, and made sure she had enough assorted wraps, cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, pickles and olives for no less than a hundred sandwiches.
Excitement buzzed through her over the shot at being permanently employed, though the odd feeling since that hat lady had called her Eva still hovered. What if she did look exactly like someone else? There went the hair on her arms again.
She checked her social media for comments. There were many more likes; still, no one had chimed in on her pressing question.
A couple hours later, when all was set to go for tomorrow, the strange feeling still hadn’t faded. Maybe it was because after her father passed, she’d become an official orphan. What if there was someone out there, another relative? Could there be? She’d been feeling so alone since her dad died, yet instead of reaching out to friends and out-of-the area relatives for comfort, she’d been keeping to herself. She was lonely, but somehow it was also safe. In fact, for the last year she’d been making a point of protecting herself, because, well, who else was going to? She was all she had.
Her mother had died in a car accident when Lacy had been ten, something she still hadn’t gotten over. Her mom had left for her shift at the library one morning and got hit head-on by a cement truck barreling around a bend. Just like that. Gone. It had been a tough age to lose the most important person in a little girl’s life. There simply was no replacing a mother. Her dad had done his best, but mostly he seemed baffled by the little female in his life, and Lacy had no way of knowing men were so different from women on the emotional scale, something that would have helped her understand his awkward reactions whenever she tried to tell him her deepest thoughts. After a while, she’d simply given up. Not that she didn’t love him. Of course she did, but communicating was altogether different with her dad than with her friends. So she often longed for her mother and ached to talk to her. Unfortunately, twenty-one years later, her memories of her mom were dim except for one thing. She knew she’d been loved and even cherished. She’d felt it in her soul. Just like she knew without a doubt her father had loved her, too. She’d been wanted and loved by her parents and that should be enough for any person. Why wasn’t it?
And then, when Greg had been killed during deployment five years ago, she didn’t think she’d ever get over losing the love of her life. He’d been everything she’d longed for—compassionate, caring, tender and easy to love. He’d also been fearless and willing to sacrifice, and the adventurous part of him had sent him away…to never return. Lacy’s hand rubbed circles around her chest remembering how her heart had been ripped in half the day she’d gotten the news.
Last year, her father had suffered a major heart attack while exerting himself loading a stack of twenty-gallon containers of homemade potato salad and coleslaw onto his food truck, and had died suddenly. A neighbor had found him in the garage, and Lacy had been grateful it hadn’t been her. She’d fallen apart completely when the police officer had showed up at the restaurant’s kitchen and notified her. The three most important people in her life had all been taken from her without warning. Now she was thirty-one and single, without parents, husband or siblings. A total orphan.
Her life experience so far had pounded home one major point—she lost the people she loved.
Sadness and longing wrapped around her until it was hard to breathe. She’d always thought of herself as a family person. She’d chosen not to move out of Little River Valley like most of her high school friends had done. Instead, she’d wanted to live close to her father and saw him several times a week. He was all she had, and she treated that bond with great care.
Since he’d died, she’d moved back into her childhood home because she’d inherited it. It felt so empty without him, which forced her to accept that she wasn’t meant to be alone. Yet she’d made no effort to reach out to new people and instead had drawn inward even though she’d always hated being an only child. Truth was, she felt stuck, like running in a dream getting nowhere, longing for something out of her reach.
As far back as she could remember, she’d thought something had been missing. As though they’d been meant to be a bigger family. When she would ask her parents why she didn’t have a sister or brother, they’d get all tongue-tied. Enough so that she’d learned to quit asking and, instead, worked on accepting that they’d simply run out of time. Yet there’d been a big hole in her heart, and she couldn’t deny it, long before Mom had died. As if something else had been ripped away, leaving a huge gap in her life.
What was with the gloomy black cloud hovering low tonight?
Slipping into the dumps certainly wasn’t how she wanted to end her day. Not on the eve of a new start! But her memories had been stirred at the wedding, and something deeper had gotten released. That person had called her Eva and told her she looked exactly like her. So strange. Truth was, when most kids created pretend pals, she’d had an imaginary sister named Jilly—even when Mom was alive, so Lacy couldn’t rationalize that it was because of losing a parent. For as long as she could remember, she’d wished for a sister, as if without one she could never be whole. Jilly helped fill that void until Lacy knew the time had come to grow up and leave her secret sister behind.
Then years later, on a group date, she’d met Greg and soon after had never felt more complete in her life.
Spurred on by the day’s events, old thoughts and new questions, she strode to the guest bedroom in the 1960s California ranch house, the room with the attic opening. Once there, after pulling down the door with a broomstick-length hook and unfolding the spring-operated ladder, she climbed up and switched on the dangling single lightbulb inside. Boxes and boxes of her parents’ papers were stored up there. Hopefully, someone had taken the time to label some of them.
Unable to see well in the dim light, she chose willy-nilly two boxes filled with papers and manila folders, and dropped first one and then the other through the attic opening. They landed with loud, reverberating thuds on the floor, leaving a small dust cloud in their wake. The first box brought her small calico Daisy Mae out of hiding from another room, and the second box sent the cat lunging back for cover.
“Sorry, sweetie!”
A muted meow assured Lacy her little girl cat was okay. Probably ticked off, but okay.
After lifting the first box onto one of the twin beds, she rifled through it, finding ten years of federal and state tax forms. If she had the time one night, she’d shred them all. Lifting the second box, she remembered she needed to defrost the assortment of homemade hand pies she’d premade and kept stored in her deep freezer in the garage…the same one her father had used for food truck supplies for over twenty years.
She really didn’t have time for this wild-goose chase. With all those pies to thaw tonight and bake in the morning, she’d have to get up early. She also needed to take inventory of her paper goods and plastic utensils tonight or she wouldn’t be able to sleep a wink. Everything had to be perfect tomorrow, because a potential long-term job offer depended on it.
Remembering the smiles on the faces of the construction crew on Friday when she’d handed out the pies and cups of coffee helped push that dark, dreary cloud away. Why drag up those old memories when all they did was bring her down? From now on she’d concentrate on the bright side of things. The future. Maybe that would bring her luck. She could use it.
She’d look through the second box another night. Besides, she had some making up to do with Daisy Mae, not to mention getting her beauty sleep. She wanted to look good when she officially started the construction job, which, in a perfect world, would lead to more interaction with the handsome Zackery Gardner.
One last check of her social media, where there were over a hundred likes. There were also a few comments in reply to her question about believing in everyone having a double. Most said yes. One person said something that made a lot of sense: We might think someone looks exactly like someone else until they stand side by side, then we’d see the difference.
Yes! Exactly. So logical. The woman at the wedding just thought Lacy looked like someone, but all she needed to do was have them stand side by side to realize how different they were. One last person Lacy didn’t know well said: I don’t think anyone could look exactly like me unless they were my twin.
The candid comment made Lacy scoff. Right. Then the hair stood on her arms again.
The sun was shining and the temperature a pleasant seventy-five degrees when Lacy pulled onto the Gardner construction site Monday at 11:15 a.m. Zack had asked her to be there by noon, and she wanted plenty of time to set up and heat the grill. Following his instructions from Friday, she drove toward a small group of sycamore trees set away from his modular office and parked in the shade beneath them. The sound of a thousand woodpeckers wreaking havoc jumbled her thoughts. The crew was obviously hard at work framing the next batch of houses. She hoped that meant they’d be hungry.
Before she set the brake on her truck, a young girl shot out of the office missile-straight through the dirt toward her. Lacy climbed from the cab just in time to meet the little brown-haired cutie as she hit the truck steps.
“Are you the food lady?” Breathless, the child inhaled before she blurted the next phrase. “I love pink!”
Grinning, because what else was Lacy supposed to do under the adorable circumstances, she nodded. “I am, and I love pink, too.”
“Pretty apron.” Could those dark eyes look any brighter?
“Why thanks. I like your sparkly pink T-shirt, too.”
“Thanks!”
“Emma, honey, leave Ms. Winters alone so she can get set up.” Zack wasn’t far behind, looking not only apologetic but impressive in a tan work shirt, the familiar snug jeans and work boots. He hadn’t worn his hard hat, and she got a good view of his due-for-a-cut dark blonde hair. Also impressive. This was his daughter? Which probably meant he was married, too. Of course he’d be.
Poof went her secret fantasy of picking up where they’d left off when she was eleven. The absurd thought almost made her laugh outright.
“We were just introducing ourselves,” Lacy said, trying not to give away her disappointment over him likely being married while also trying to sound upbeat, in case Emma was about to get in trouble for rushing the truck.
He held back a bit, letting Emma be. The girl fidgeted like a little bunny. “We don’t want to interfere with your setup.”
“I do have a few things to pull together, so…”
“Can I help?” Emma blurted.
Would it be a help or hindrance and throw her off schedule to find something for Emma to do? “Um, tell you what, give me half an hour to set up my kitchen, then I’ll let you put out the napkins and plastic utensils.”
“Okay!” Such enthusiasm.
Why was she here, anyway? Oh right, spring break, but did that mean Zack’s wife also worked? Probably. Two-income households were a sign of the times, especially in California.
“Great,” Zack said, a pleasing glint in his impressive green eyes.
Was that glint from being a happily married man? She wasn’t looking anyway; in fact, she’d been hiding out from all things “living” for the last year, focusing solely on getting her dad’s truck redone and taking it on the road. Still, a tiny voice in the back of her head was really disappointed.
“We’ll be back later.”
Later. Oh, right, she had a job to do—impress the heck out of him! She hoped later meant he would also order lunch. Handing out free coffee and pie samples to his men on Friday was one thing—who didn’t want free stuff? But bringing the customer back to order lunch, in this case fifty construction guys, give or take a dozen, was a wide bridge to cross. She hoped she’d made a good enough impression to coax at least half of them back.
The thought of having to earn her way into a job made her heart flutter, or maybe it was the extra sneak peek she’d taken of Zack’s backside while he’d guided his delightful daughter by her shoulder back to the office. Quit looking! You’re not interested.
Besides, he’s married.
Scratch flirting off the day’s agenda, snort, as if she would if she had the nerve in the first place. This man was boss material. She needed a job not a crush.
She couldn’t very well stand around and gawk at a really fine male specimen—she had work to do. Before she reentered her truck, she opened the outside menu, which listed the complete rundown of wraps, at affordable prices considering their size and contents. All self-explanatory, too. Chicken Done Right, Put a Steak in It, Ham It Up, Eat Your Veggies, Name That Tuna, Eggs-xactly, and Down by the Sea, a daily seafood special, today’s being a cold wrap of bay shrimp with her unique take on coleslaw. Plus, the day’s assortment of hand pies—apple, peach, blueberry and puddin’, today’s flavor being chocolate. Who wouldn’t want to try out her menu at least once?
With hope cinching up her insecurity, she stepped back into the food truck and got right to work heating the grill, opening the vents, setting out the marinated steak and chicken, and all the other accoutrements.
True to her word and exactly a half hour later, little Emma popped up on the doorstep. Like a puppy off a leash. “Are you ready for my help?”
“I sure am.” As Lacy scrambled to grab the paper napkins and box of plastic utensils, it occurred to her she hadn’t started the coffee. “Crud!”
“Are you okay?” Emma’s wide eyes and mild shoulder-hunch indicated worry. Unnecessary worry.
“Oh, I’m fine, honey, I just remembered I have to get the coffee brewed before the guys show up. Oh, and if you want to stick around, I’ll let you hand out the bottled water or canned sodas when they buy them.”
“Okay! This is fun.” Emma took the napkins and plastic forks and trotted outside to the pull-out counter. She rushed back in the instant she’d finished, her little pink-sneaker-clad foot tapping. “What else can I do?”
“Uh, well, how about putting the mustard, mayo and ketchup bottles out for me?”
“Okay!”
It certainly didn’t take much to make the child excited. A flash of being around the same age and helping her dad during the summers led her back to the handsome first adult crush of her life, Zackery Gardner, who just happened to be Emma’s dad. The married guy with a family. But really, what were the odds of crossing his path again? What a coincidence.
Everything went quiet. Silence fell over the truck like a thick blanket. What happened to the busy woodpeckers?
Lacy glanced at her watch. Noon. No need for a horn or whistle to mark that. Evidently, the construction crew knew instinctively and had stopped working. Her previously distracted stomach flutters immediately reported back for duty. Taking a deep breath, as if her future didn’t depend on selling wraps to new customers in order to land a regular job, she hopped into place behind the counter and waited.
And waited.
Until the silence became painful.
Looking down the site, half of the men sat on the concrete slabs of the houses eating from lunch pails, and a dozen or two had hopped into cars and driven off for someone else’s fast food, no doubt. They didn’t even bother to look at her as they drove by. She hadn’t won a single man over by handing out her desserts last Friday. She guessed she was not good enough to pay for. She’d never once used the word crestfallen in casual conversation, but it turned out to be the perfect word to best explain how she felt right then.
As her heart sank, dragging her self-esteem with it, Zack came out from the office leading a line of three other employees behind him. One woman, two men. Not counting Little Miss Enthusiasm. He stepped up to the window, a sympathetic smile creasing his mouth. “Lunch is on me,” he said over his shoulder to the office staff, his left hand resting on the food truck counter. When all her concentration should’ve been on the noble act Zack had just performed, instead she couldn’t help noticing there was no sign of a wedding ring.
The small group of employees looked over her menu and each made their order. No two alike. Next Zack gave her his—Put a Steak in It, no onions.
“May I have my own wrap, Dad?” Little Emma spoke up.
“Sure, Shortcake.”
His sweet gesture of buying everyone lunch made Lacy’s eyes go glassy, but instead of letting humiliation take over, she got right to work making the best dang batch of wraps she knew how. Being a hand talker, she’d learned over the years she couldn’t talk and prepare food at the same time, so she went quiet. Otherwise, she’d never get anything made. Out of gratitude, when she was finished, she threw in a pie for each of them.
“Coffee’s on me, if you’d like,” she said, as she processed the last order and gave Zack his change. They all obviously appreciated her throwing in the free stuff, but seriously, she’d made a fifty-cup urn of coffee that was going down the drain anyway.
He winked, and she felt twelve again, nearly blushed, too. Which wasn’t right because he was married, and that interchange had been so wrong. As she cleaned the workstation, her stomach twisted with defeat. She’d had such high hopes for this job, and after today’s sorry showing, he probably wouldn’t even invite her back for Wednesday.
Just about ready to give up, she noticed two construction guys moseying over toward her truck. Maybe they were curious after seeing their boss and the office crew get their lunch. They read over her menu and both ordered the steak wrap. If they really liked the food, maybe they’d come back and tell their work friends, too. If she was still there on Wednesday.
Then, as she made their wraps, a couple more guys made their way to her order window. “Ham It Up and Name That Tuna. Got it!”
All it took was someone leading the way. Thanks, Zack!
The female employee was the only one to take her lunch back to her desk. Everyone who stuck around to eat stood, since there wasn’t any place to sit. Hadn’t Zack said he’d set up something last Friday? Though standing, they all seemed to really enjoy their meals. At least there was that.
“This is the best tuna sandwich I ever had!” Emma said with her usual intensity.
“Let me have a bite,” Zack said.
“No Dad, you have your own.”
“I thought we shared stuff.”
“Oh, okay.”
He took a huge bite as Emma griped loudly. “Hey, leave some for me.”
“It is delicious, but I can’t believe you’re going to finish it.”
“Well, I might leave room for some puddin’ pie.”
“Then let’s wrap this up and take it home,” Zack said, extra loud, making a point to catch Lacy’s gaze, like a proud kid while saying the title of her truck.
As down as she felt over the lack of customers, she couldn’t help but smile.
But, hey, Zack had already broken his promise to set up places for people to sit. Everyone was forced to stand to eat the two-handed wraps, a messy business. He probably didn’t expect her to come back, or he wanted to see how the turnout was first before he made the effort, so why bother now. Good call, too, after the day’s paltry sales.
With only fifteen minutes remaining in the lunch hour break, and after selling only a dozen wraps, Lacy got an idea. She made a cell phone call to Zack, who’d gone back inside the office.
“Mr. Gardner, is it okay if I take some wrap samples to the guys out on the construction site?”
“I don’t see why not,” he said, after a second of silence. Construction had stopped. “Just watch out for nails and…”
“I will. Promise. Thanks!” She hustled to make two of each wrap on her menu, then cut them all into four pieces. With Emma sticking around like she was on the clock, Lacy grabbed two trays and, after covering them with a paper liner, put half of the sandwiches on each of the trays.
“Emma, can you carry one of these trays for me?”
“Okay!” Bright-eyes was on it.
Lacy grabbed a stack of flyer-styled menus, stuffed them in her apron pocket and headed out the door. Since the crowd hadn’t come to her, she’d go to the crew.
With Emma grinning and playing the perfect hostess, offering samples to the men who worked for her father, and with Lacy playing backup, they passed out every single quarter-wrap. Who could possibly refuse? Better yet, the men seemed to like them. Really like them. So she got another idea.
“If you bring the flyer with you on Wednesday, and buy a wrap, I’ll throw in a free coffee and hand pie of your choice.”
A few of the men took the menus right off. As more of them ate the various wraps, another handful took flyers. The interested response was better than nothing.
Heading back to her truck to clean up and shut down, some of the men who’d returned from eating off-site followed her.
“I’ll take a flyer,” one of them said, then another and another.
“I’ve still got coffee if you’d like a cup.”
Half a dozen stuck around for that, and since they were hanging around, she gave them some of the leftover hand pies, of which there were many. The assorted pies clearly got their approval, and soon a few more guys wandered over. Who didn’t want a free dessert?
It hadn’t been a winning day, but at least she hadn’t fallen completely on her face.
When she was all set to leave, she thought she should take a walk to the office, to see if Zack even wanted her coming back on Wednesday.
Hating the insecurity that was strung around her like Christmas tree lights after New Year’s, she stepped inside, doing her best to hide her true mood. One of the guys Zack had bought lunch for looked up from his desk and smiled. “That was a great seafood wrap.”
“Oh, thank you. Glad you liked it. I, uh, was hoping to talk to Mr. Gardner?”
The mobile office was small, and she could see Zack’s modest room in the back corner. He knew she was there, and the guy in the front area didn’t have a chance to reply before Zack gestured for her to come over.
Not wanting to appear timid, she mustered what was left of her confidence, holding her head high before she stepped inside. Thankfully, she’d remembered to take off her toque and remove the hair net.
“So what do you think?” Zack started.
“Wasn’t a very good showing. I was hoping a lot more guys would try out the food.”
“We’ve been here a month now, and they’ve gotten used to their routines. I think you should give it another shot, that is if you think it’s worth your effort. Come back on Wednesday and Friday, too—if you don’t have a better place to park somewhere else?”
Sitting behind his desk, laptop open, looking so darn appealing and being about as considerate as a person could be, Zack said the words she’d hoped for. Come back. She fought the urge to rush to him and throw her arms around his neck. Pure fantasy, of course, since she’d never do that to a near stranger, no matter how wonderful they were. Especially if they might be married. And a potential work contract.
“I’ll be here.”
Emma showed up from another office. “I wish you could come tomorrow, too.”
“You’re such a sweetie.” It was easy, and felt natural to draw the child close to her waist and deliver a single-armed hug. What she couldn’t do to the father was safe to do to his kid. Emma seemed to really crave the attention, too. “You were a big help today.”
“That’s because I want to be a cook when I grow up.”
“You do? That’s great.”
“So, we’ll see you Wednesday, then?” Zack broke in. “Same time and place?”
She looked Zackery Gardner in the eyes, feeling a powerful surge of something run through her that had nothing to do with getting a second chance, and pretended to be cool as a seasoned cucumber in rice vinegar. Cool was necessary around such a man. Especially since he was a family man.
“You betcha.”
Wednesday, when she pulled her rig onto the construction site, she couldn’t help but notice someone had set out a bunch of overturned wooden crates. Had Zack done it for the men to sit on? If so, that was progress and a sign of good faith. She sure hoped she could fill those makeshift seats today.
Out the door ran Emma from the office and, following behind, Zack.
“Hi!” Emma said, looking as if she was bursting to tell Lacy something.
“Thought setting up some places for the men to sit might bring more guys over,” Zack explained as he made the last few steps to her truck.
“I can sure use the help and it’s certainly worth a try. Thank you.”
“Probably should’ve done it for Monday, but I think you’ll have a much better turnout today.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“Dad gave them a peck talk and said they should try your lunches.”
“Pep talk,” Zack corrected.
“You did?” Warmth started at Lacy’s neck and rose to her cheeks. He’d only do that if he wanted her to stick around.
He looked flustered and maybe a little irritated, thanks to Emma’s honesty. “Well, I have a bit of an ulterior motive.”
“Other than helping me sell food and keep this job?”
His appealing sun-tinged eyebrows tented, and his normally heavy lidded eyes narrowed the tiniest bit. “Well, yes.”
“Will you teach me to cook?”
Instead of snapping at Emma for letting the cat out of the bag, like some parents would, Zack tossed Lacy a hopeful look. “Emma really wants to learn how to cook, and…”
Who needed to think about such a sweet offer? “I’d love to.”
Emma clapped, then rushed to hug Lacy’s waist tight, just like the other day.
“Of course, I can’t exactly teach her how to cook here.” She used her hands to motion around the construction site and toward her truck under the trees.
“Right,” he said. “We were hoping you might be available Saturday afternoon?”
Saturday afternoon—wasn’t that a family kind of day? Where was his wife, and why wasn’t she teaching Emma to cook? Did he have one? A wife? No ring. Maybe for safety reasons, he left it off at work. But his daughter seemed starved for female attention. However, Saturday afternoon didn’t exactly fall into dating time zone, and any dates Lacy had ever gone on had not so far included a child, a mystery wife or cooking lessons. Still, she looked forward to getting to know both of the Gardners better. “Would you like to drop her off at my house?”
Those sexy, sleepy-looking eyes studied her carefully. “Would you consider coming to ours?”
