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  In the restaurant supply store, Jana came positively alive with energy and purpose. “These,” she said, hoisting up a pair of frying pans with such a look of triumph that it was as if they were gold-medal trophies, “are the ones we need. They cost a bit more, but they’re worth it.” He could tell it was a test—would he spring for the good stuff or cut corners?

  He nodded. “If that’s what you need.”

  “You want simple food exquisitely done, right?”

  He chose her term. “You got it. No adventure-burgers.”

  Jana’s face broke into an electric smile. Honestly, she looked half kid in a candy store, half rock star spinning drumsticks as she gave the pair of pans a celebratory twirl before placing them in the cart he was pushing through the aisles. Her thick, curly brown hair bounced around her face as she selected implements, tubs of condiments and other supplies. Sure, he was watching funds fly out of the company checkbook, but he had to admit it was rather fun.

  “I wonder if we can get those custom made,” Witt ventured as Jana placed a tall stack of paper serving baskets into the cart. “You know, in blue with our name on them?”

  The disapproving nose-wrinkle that had accompanied her earlier crack about the truck’s paint job returned. “I wouldn’t.”

  Well, points for honesty. “Too much?”

  She sat back on one hip, eyeing boxes of plastic forks, knives and spoons. “It’s not bad idea in and of itself—the visual of someone enjoying their burger with your logo close by is a good tactic. But you need to be careful with the color. Studies have shown that blue serving ware can actually be an appetite suppressant.”

  She really did know her stuff. “Now there’s something they don’t teach you in business school.”

  “The stuff next to the food?” she continued. “That ought to be white—or even yellow. Yellow makes food exciting and memorable.” With that, she picked up a case of lemon yellow napkins. “Have you got a business card?”

  “What?”

  “A Blue Thorn business card. They’re screaming blue, right?”

  Screaming? Witt fished one—yes, definitely blue—business card out of his wallet and handed it to her. It occurred to him that he had not yet had any made for Jana. “Do chefs need business cards?”

  “Not this chef. The coat’s a perfect touch, but I don’t need too many of the other bells and whistles. I don’t want them, actually. My food does my networking for me.” She eyed him. “Only I expect you’ve got an extensive marketing plan all laid out, don’t you?”

  He did—three versions. Witt had run his family’s wholesale meat business—Star Beef—for years before his sister Mary’s new husband had come in and taken over. That branch of the family business may not need him anymore, but he was ready to show what he could do with this branch.

  He’d done his research, and he knew the basics of how food trucks operated. A loyal customer base following the truck’s location was key to success. A surprisingly pretty chef wouldn’t hurt that effort, either. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

  Jana held the business card up next to the yellow napkins. Even Witt could see that the blue and yellow went together well. The black and turquoise of the card popped against the yellow, while the yellow balanced out the bright hue of the blue card. “What do you think?” she said, squinting one eye in artistic consideration.

  “I like it.”

  She raised a dark eyebrow. “Do we need to get approval from the rest of the company brass?”

  “Huh?”

  “Can I choose yellow napkins on my own or is that a corporate culture decision?”

  This felt like another test as to how much artistic freedom she would have with the truck. He’d best step with care.

  He made his voice dramatically formal. “Speaking as one-third of the executive branch, I’d say we can grant you authority on paper products.”

  Jana grunted as if she didn’t find the joke as amusing as he did. After a sideways glance, she gave the color combination one final assessment and then put three more cases of yellow napkins in the cart. She put her hands on her hips. “That’s it for basic supplies. Now let’s get some ingredients.”

  Watching Jana browse through the grocery section of the store was just plain fun. She inspected every tomato and discarded two types of buns before choosing a third. “These are just for now, naturally. We’ll want to choose a bakery vendor and get most of our produce from the market, that sort of thing.”

  “Of course,” he said, only half understanding what she meant. He hadn’t really thought about where cooks got their ingredients. While he had plenty of experience selling beef, it had always been in bulk quantities to major vendors, not smaller sales to individuals. But like other things, that was changing now that he was at Blue Thorn. Witt was already well underway firing up the Blue Thorn Ranch Store back in Martins Gap. While established in the wholesale business, Witt planned to have the Blue Thorn brand growing fast in local retail, and online, as well as expanding the wholesale market. His idea for a food truck presence selling bison burgers in downtown Austin was going to take everything to the next level. Sure, he was moving fast, but fast was his natural speed. Based on Jana’s passion for basic but exceptional food, she was definitely the right chef for the job.

  Back on the truck, the tiny space seemed to come alive once the supplies and ingredients were stowed on board. “Up until now, it just looked like a vehicle,” he said as he tucked the aforementioned yellow napkins into the cabinet Jana selected. “All of a sudden, it looks like a restaurant.”

  Jana pulled an apron out of her messenger bag and spread her knife kit on the counter. With gleaming eyes, she said, “Now let’s see if she acts like a restaurant. Regular burger or cheeseburger?”

  Music to any hungry man’s ears. “I like them both. You pick.”

  She leaned over to the below-counter fridge, pulling out the packets of ground bison meat and running her hands over the three different kinds of cheeses she’d purchased before settling on the sharp cheddar. “Cheese. With grilled onions. And a special fix or two of my very own. Delicious,” she added with something close to a wink, “but not adventurous.”

  “No Ugandan spotted goat curd?”

  “Not on your life.” She pulled out an onion and the monstrous brick of butter they’d purchased. With deft fingers, she turned the dial on the grill, changing the setting twice over the next two minutes. Then whatever she was waiting for seemed to arrive, and she tossed a spoonful of water on the grill.

  The smile on her face at the sizzling sound matched the glow in his chest. It had begun.

  Jana took a pair of burgers out of the packet, seasoned them with what could only be called a dramatic flourish, and set them on the grill. The scent that filled the truck was nothing short of sublime.

  “Get ready, boss. I’m about to grill your socks off.”

  Watching her work, watching her move and test and turn and putter around the tiny kitchen, Witt believed her.

  Chapter Two

  “I’ve got to admit, it was incredible,” Witt told Gunner and Ellie as he had dinner with them back out at the ranch forty miles northwest of Austin. “It was just like she said—a basic burger perfectly done. Charred just enough around the edges, the cheese at the perfect point of melting, mustard with just a bit of kick—everything.” His mouth salivated just at the memory of the burger. If he could convince her to try just a few trendy items, go just a little beyond the basics, they’d be a hit for sure.

  “I knew she’d be great,” Ellie gloated. “Sure, she’s an unknown now, but she won’t stay that way.”

  “A pretty girl who can grill a great burger?” Gunner remarked. “Guys will line up around the block.”

  Ellie nudged him in reply. “Whoa there, brother. That’s a rather sexist remark for a married man with a daughter and a new son. You make sure you teach Trey and Audie that it’s what a woman does, not how she looks, that matters.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Or Aunt Ellie will come over there and do it for you.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Gunner nodded with a smile. “But come on, you can’t argue that Jana adds to the appeal. Working a food truck, she needs to be as much saleswoman as chef. I know you’re the one working the PR campaign, Witt, but folks have to like whoever’s behind the counter.”

  “She can sell, I’m sure of it,” Witt agreed. “She’s easy to promote—I’m sure she looks great on camera, and that’s an asset.” Witt glanced over at Ellie. “Am I allowed to say that?”

  “Yes, you’re allowed to say that,” Gunner answered before Ellie could. Sometimes the brother-sister tension with those two ran a bit strong. Gunner was clearly the boss—and always had been—but Ellie wasn’t shy about asserting herself.

  “You’re right there. Jana’s got loads of personality. She’s the whole package,” Ellie said as she sat back. “And yes, I will admit, most of the servers and even lots of the corporate staff back in Atlanta thought she was a looker.” She pointed at Witt. “But that’s not why we hired her. We hired her for her skills.”

  “Yes, we did,” Witt agreed, the sensation of the perfectly melted cheese on his tongue still a vivid memory. Of course the food was the first priority. And he would have happily shared that tiny space with a burly guy who could cook as well as Jana. Still, any man with a pulse would concede that the scenery inside the Blue Thorn Burgers truck only added to the charm. “She has her share of opinions, too. And she isn’t shy about sharing them. Kind of like the other woman in this company.”

  “Funny.” Ellie gave Witt a look as she took another biscuit from the plate at the center of the table. “Did you have discussions, debates, or full-out arguments?”

  “All three, I think, but it was okay. More like creative ten
sion.” He didn’t mind being challenged if it led to better ideas and stronger business practices in the end. And he had a feeling most of Jana’s ideas would be good ones. If they could strike a good working partnership, everything would work out fine. He was going to make this work, no matter what it took.

  “Jana will take another couple of days to get the truck up and running, I’ll hire one or two support workers...”

  “Like Jose?” Ellie cut in. She’d insisted Witt hire one of the high school kids she and her fiancé, Nash, had met while running an after-school program for local at-risk teens. Ellie and Gunner cared a lot about what they did and how they did it. The Blue Thorn Ranch was about much more than the bottom line, which was what made it so satisfying to work with them.

  “Like Jose,” Witt replied. “I think he’s coming down tomorrow. Are you sure the kid is okay staying with his brother down in the city? I mean, I’m all for giving kids opportunities, but a start-up food truck is going to call for long hours and hard work. Jose knows it won’t be like some episode of a Food Network show, doesn’t he?”

  “Jose will be great,” Gunner confirmed. “That kid’s not one bit afraid of hard work. He’s really grown up since graduation. I’d hire him on the ranch if we had work for him.”

  Despite Blue Thorn’s long history, most of the recent changes—converting it into a bison ranch and expanding Blue Thorn Enterprises—made it feel more like a start-up. Blue Thorn had run into some difficult times in the past few years under Gunner and Ellie’s father, but the new generation of Bucktons were working hard to right the ship. It had its stresses, but Witt found it far more satisfying than the situation he’d left behind at home, watching his role at Star Beef get chiseled down to nothing by his sister and her ambitious new husband. Business was booming, as it had been for years, but he didn’t feel wanted or accepted. And this was still family, after all—Witt’s dad had been brother to Ellie and Gunner’s father, Gunner Senior. This opportunity with his cousins at Blue Thorn had been an answer to his prayer, a place to show the world what he could do at a time when he was feeling truly stalled.

  “If the food truck is successful, we could think of other mobile ventures,” Ellie added. “I know of at least one yarn company that has a mobile store just like a food truck. We could do that here, you know.”

  “One expansion at a time, Els,” Gunner said as he rolled his eyes. He turned to Witt. “The truck’s own website and all that stuff is nearly ready?”

  “It links right up with the ranch and store sites,” Witt answered. Ellie did all the public relations for the consumer side, and the wholesale piece had been up and fully running without a hitch. “Two-thirds of your customers have converted to the online ordering system, and I’ll be visiting the rest after we get the truck settled in. We’re ready.”

  “And the social media? Twitter, Facebook, Insta-whatever, all that stuff?” Gunner asked.

  “Instagram. Yes, we’ll be hitting all that at full speed as soon as Jana gives the all clear,” Ellie explained. “And Jose said he’d help, too. That kid would cut off his own arm before he’d put down his cell phone.”

  “We agreed—after a lively discussion, mind you—on a soft opening,” Witt went on. “Showing up unannounced at a variety of places until we both are sure the product and the system are perfect.”

  “How close are you?” Gunner asked.

  Witt took another biscuit himself. “That depends on who you ask. There was some debate—” he gave the word emphasis as he looked at Ellie “—as to the merits of long lines.”

  “Long lines?” Gunner questioned.

  “I think long lines are great marketing. Makes you look like you’re in demand.”

  Ellie raised an eyebrow. “And Jana?”

  “She says a line can be long enough to put someone off. We settled on a goal of no more than six people waiting for the first two weeks, with an option to renegotiate.”

  Ellie frowned. “I know you. You’ve calculated a burger-per-hour profit ratio, haven’t you?”

  Witt stalled. “Well...maybe. We do need some benchmarks to shoot for. You can’t tell me you didn’t have goals like that back at GoodEats.”

  Ellie’s expression told Witt just what she thought of such goals. “You’ve got nothing to worry about,” she said. “That woman knows her stuff. You’ve already arranged to shoot some photos and videos the first week, haven’t you? I predict Jana’s going to be a hit.”

  “Like our burgers,” Gunner chimed in.

  “Exactly like our burgers,” Witt agreed.

  There was a pause in the conversation before Gunner shifted uncomfortably in his chair and said, “Your mom called.” He said it softly, slowly, which told Witt he knew exactly what the admission implied.

  “No kidding.” Witt said. “Checking up on me now that I’ve jumped the family ship?”

  “I told her you’d only jumped to a related shipping line. But yes.” Gunner ran a hand across his chin. “She said your dad asked a lot of questions.”

  “What’d you tell her?”

  “The truth,” Gunner replied. “I told her Star Beef’s loss was our gain. I told her I think Uncle Grayson will regret letting you leave.”

  “I still don’t think he gets it,” Ellie offered with compassion in her eyes. They’d talked long and hard about his moving to Blue Thorn. Ellie knew what it was like to grow up with fathers like the Buckton brothers and how chilly it could be in the shadow of the Eldest and Heir. His sister Mary had always been the eldest, but Witt had always dared to think he was at least partial heir to the ranch until Mary’s high-powered husband, Cole Sullivan, entered the picture.

  “Oh, I know. Dad thinks I ought to be thrilled to fall in line under Cole’s breathtaking five-year plan.” The bitterness in his own voice surprised him—Witt thought he’d made more peace with the issue than that. “It’s not a bad plan,” he admitted. “It’s just that I’m not anywhere in it.”

  “Gran grabbed the phone out of my hand and gave your mom a piece of her mind,” Gunner said with a smirk.

  “I’d like to have been there for that.” Witt could just picture Gran telling off her daughter-in-law. She’d have told off her son in stronger terms, come to think of it. Some days it was hard to imagine how two men as hardheaded as Gunner and Grayson Buckton had been the sons of the tender, caring woman all the cousins called Gran. Then again his grandmother Adele Buckton had a hard head and a stubborn will of her own to match her big heart—she just had the grace and compassion to be a lot more forgiving. “Gran will like Jana. They’re made of the same stuff, I think.”

  “I agree,” Ellie said, leaning in. “Why don’t you invite her out to the house for a barbecue this weekend? She can meet the whole family. And see the bison.” She suddenly reached for her handbag, rummaging through it until she produced her cell phone. “Never mind, I’ll text her myself right now.” After a minute of furious typing, Ellie smiled. “Done. Six o’clock, Saturday night. Jana’s bringing coleslaw. You have not lived until you’ve tasted this woman’s coleslaw.”

  * * *

  Jana looked around the ranch Saturday night, taking in the scene spread out before her. She and Ellie were acquaintances—not good friends but friendly enough back when they’d worked together in Atlanta—but even though they hadn’t been especially close, Jana had heard a few stories about the legendary Buckton family. Nothing had prepared her for this.

  “You know,” she said as she helped Ellie with a tablecloth, “I sort of get the whole color thing now.” She’d seen the Buckton blue eyes before, of course, but seeing Gunner, Ellie, Grandmother Adele and Witt all together in one place, the family trait stood out like a neon sign. She’d tried not to fixate on the stunning nature of Witt’s eyes, but with his hair—Gunner and Ellie had tawny-colored hair but Witt’s was a darker shade, closer to brown—they were extraordinary. It made her disobedient brown curls and brown eyes feel mundane.

  “I hated my eyes growing up,” Ellie offered, shrugging. “Everywhere I went in town, everybody knew I was a Buckton, and I didn’t always think that was such a good thing. Now,” she said, her eyes straying to the man she’d introduced as her fiancé, “I find myself hoping that when Nash and I have kids, the blue shows up. At least in some of them.”