CHAPTER SEVEN

Kyle—

I'm busy as hell trying to keep up with the line at the food truck, when my brother sticks his smiling face in the window.

"Bro, what's cookin'?" He's so fucking funny.

"Hey, Rafe. What are you doing here?" My eyes go over his head to where Sutton stands behind him. She's wearing a tank top with a sweater over it, and a pair of shorts and Uggs. Her blonde curls are in pigtail knots on top of her head. She looks adorable, in a college coed sort of way. I force myself to drag my eyes away.

Rafe peers in. "Looks like you're working all alone. I can help you out with that." He loops his arm around Sutton and tugs her forward. "Give her a chance, man. She's a hard worker."

I huff a laugh. How would he know if she's a hard worker?

"Hey, mister. Where's my order? I've been waiting twenty minutes," a customer complains.

"I'll have it right out." I sigh and turn to Rafe. "Okay. Fine. She can help me tonight, and we'll see how it goes."

"Fantastic. You won't regret it, Kyle."

I'm regretting it already, but I meet them at the rear door, just in time to witness my brother kissing her goodbye. "I'll be back to pick you up. Just call."

I hold out my hand and help her into the truck, then toss an apron at her chest. "You ever cook?"

"Um, sure. I cook."

I give her a look. "Know how to chop stuff?"

"Sure."

I hear my brother's bike roar away. I'm now alone with his girlfriend. Well, except for the half-dozen people waiting in line for food.

Sutton ties on her apron. "So, what do you make?"

"The specialty is chicken chili tonight, but it's not ready yet. I was late setting up. Right now, they're ordering tacos."

"Oh." She sounds less than enthused.

"What does oh mean?" I shove a paper tray at her. "Two beef. One chicken. All soft shell."

She shrugs and begins filling the order. "Nothing."

"Tell me." I work side by side with her, filling the next order.

"It's just… every truck in town sells tacos."

"And I need something more original, right?" I pass the orders out the window.

"Maybe."

At the end of the line, I go back to tending the chili. "That's what this is for. It was our mother's recipe." I grab some curry and twist the cap off, about to shake it into the pot.

"Wait. What is that?" She puts a hand on my arm.

"What is what?" I reply.

"What are you about to add?"

"Curry powder."

She makes a face. "What would you add that for?"

"It's my mother's recipe."

"You sure about that?"

I grab the recipe I have under a magnet on the stainless hood and hand it to her. It's in my mother's handwriting. "Says so right here."

She scans it. "I don't see curry on here."

"Right there." I point.

"That's cumin. That's an m, not two r's."

I grab it out of her hand and squint at the cursive. "You sure?"

"Pretty sure. I guess you could call and ask her."

I do just that. "Ma? It's Kyle. What's this ingredient in your recipe? I thought it said curry, but Sutton says it's cumin." I study her. She's standing before me with her arms crossed, so sure of herself. "Okay. Thanks."

I disconnect, and Sutton throws me a big grin.

"I was right, wasn't I?"

"Yeah."

"Good thing I saved the chili. No one would have liked it with curry."

"You don't know that."

She grunts out a laugh. "Oh, I'm pretty sure."

"Quit rubbing it in. You were right. Thank you for saving my chili and my ass."

"You're welcome." Her grin grows. "Hey, look. We're having an actual conversation."

"We've had conversations," I defend.

"You've barely spoken two words to me since I came to town. What gives?"

A customer walks up, and I wait on him, thankful for the distraction.

Of course, she doesn't let me off the hook, and starts up as soon as we're making the order.

"Did I offend you, Kyle?" Her voice is soft.

"Nope," I reply, not looking up from what I'm doing. I don't want to see her concerned expression, and I don't want to get sucked under by sad, puppy-dog eyes.

"Am I not good enough for your brother? Is that it?"

I sigh. "I don't think that."

The chicken chili is ready, and we dish up three servings along with my mother's cornbread recipe, and pass them to the man and his companions.

"Well, what is it?" she asks.

"You don't let up, do you?"

"Nope."

"This is exactly why this isn't going to work. This is why I told Rafe this was a mistake."

"You told him this was a mistake? He told me you were looking for help. If not, then why did you agree to it?"

I fling a hand toward the window. "Because he showed up and pushed it on me."

"You mean pushed me on you." She unties her apron. "If you want me gone, I'll go."

"Look, I tried to avoid him for exactly this reason."

"What reason?"

"Because we've got no business spending hours on end together. Especially in these tight quarters where we can't escape each other."

"You need to escape from me?"

I stop and slap the rag on the counter. "Don't play dumb. You know why."

"Maybe you need to learn to say no to your brother. I've noticed you never seem to do that."

"I can say no to Rafe."

She crosses her arms. "Really? When's the last time?"

"Just get back to work."

"Maybe this arrangement might help the two of you. Ever think of that?"

"Help us? How?"

"You'll have to learn to deal with him."

"I deal with him just fine."

"And he needs to learn to stop asking things of you. He needs to learn to stop using you as a crutch."

"A crutch? Is that what I am? You've been here, what? A month? And you've got it all figured out," I snap, irritation in my voice.

"I didn't say I had all the answers, but I know what I see. He leans on you more than he should. Surely, you can agree with that."

I hate that she's right. I also hate that she's pretending not to know what the real problem is. Or maybe she's pretending it doesn't exist. Or maybe it's because she doesn't feel any vibe happening between us. For some reason, that pisses me off even more.

"Whatever. Can we work and not talk?"

At that moment, the man I served the three orders of chicken chili approaches the window.

"Hey, man."

I dip my head. "Yes, sir?"

"I wanted to let you know how much we loved this stuff." He holds up his bowl. "This chili is awesome." He gestures to the bench where the two women he came with are sitting. "My girlfriend went on your social media and left you your first five-star review." He gives me a thumbs up. "I just wanted you to know."

"I appreciate it. And tell her thanks so much for the review."

"She's going to tag Food Truck Tina in a post and rave about it. Maybe she'll come and try it. A good word from her can do amazing things for your business."

"Really? Who's Food Truck Tina?"

"She's a food critic in the Bay Area. Every season she gives a top ten list, and if you earn one of her Five Forks Awards, your business will go through the roof. It happened to a friend of mine in San Francisco." He scrolls on his phone and turns the screen toward me. "This is her social."

Sutton leans out the window and snaps a photo of his screen. "Thanks, mister. We'll be sure to check her out. We'd love for her to come try our chili."

"Have a great day." He wanders away.

I stare at Sutton. "You ever hear of this person?"

Her face lights up with excitement as she scrolls through her phone. "Oh, my God, Kyle. She's big time. A good review from her is like magic. She can literally make or break a business."

"What if she hates it? If she posts a bad review, my business is over before it gets off the ground," I grumble.

"What if she likes it? What if she says your food is fantastic? It could mean everything. You've got to be positive."

"I'm positive," I argue.

She huffs. "You are totally a glass-half-empty kind of guy."

I want to defend myself, but… maybe I am. I never used to be. When the hell did that happen?

I pick up the spatula and start scraping the grill with jerky motions. Great. Now I'm the sad-sap Eeyore character who thinks everything is doom and gloom. That's not exactly the way I want Sutton to see me, but apparently, she does.

Fucking fantastic.