Читать книгу Cooking Up Romance онлайн | страница 29

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?”