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  “I’m glad it all worked out so well for you,” Jana said. She remembered how worried she’d been about Ellie when she’d heard about the woman’s spectacular breakup with star chef Derek Harding. Not that Jana blamed her—if she’d caught her own fiancé kissing her best friend, she didn’t know what she would have done. At least Ellie had had a place to go—back home to Blue Thorn. And it was Ellie’s exodus from the trauma that she had to thank for the chance to meet Nash.

  Jana was glad to make her own exodus away from Atlanta and the painful memories of Ronnie, even if it did mean leaving Mom behind. “I suppose I even owe my job to that happy outcome.”

  “I hope you get a happy outcome of your own. I think you’ll do fabulously at the wheel of the Big Blue Bus.”

  Jana balked. “The Big Blue Bus?”

  “Oh, that’s just what my niece, Audie, called it the first time Witt brought it around. It sort of stuck. Don’t tell Witt—he hates the nickname. It’s the Blue Thorn Burgers truck—and maybe the first of many—as far as Witt’s concerned. Has big dreams, our Witt does. He can be a bit too driven, if you ask me, but I think he’ll settle down.”

  The last thing I need right now is another overdriven male, Lord. Keep me safe out here, Jana prayed as she began walking around the table setting out plates—turquoise plates. She caught Witt’s eye when she first saw them. He shrugged as if to say, I know what you said about eating off blue plates, but what are you gonna do?

  “Did you like the chef’s coat?” Ellie asked, planting a big blue jug of yellow flowers in the center of the table. See? Jana wanted to say to Witt. See how yellow balances all that blue out?

  “I’ve been meaning to thank you,” Jana replied. “It’s perfect. Really, just the right touch. The embroidery, the female fit, everything.”

  Ellie smiled. “You’re welcome. I didn’t want to leave that task to the boys. Who knows what you might have ended up wearing if I had?”

  Dinner was a rowdy, pleasant family affair straight out of Country Living magazine. Gunner and his wife, Brooke, doted over their baby boy, the whole family making guesses as to whether one-month-old “Trey”—their nickname for Gunner Buckton III—would dare to have his mother’s brown eyes instead of the family blue. Jana declined to vote when asked by Audie, Brooke’s daughter, who adoringly called her stepfather “Gunnerdad.”

  “You’re gonna drive the Big Blue Bus, aren’t you?” the girl whispered as she slid onto the picnic table bench beside Jana.

  “I heard that,” Witt, seated across from her, teased with mock seriousness. Well, mostly mock.

  Audie rolled her big brown eyes. “The food truck.”

  “The Blue Thorn Burgers food truck,” he corrected as he reached for the big bowl of coleslaw Jana had brought. “Ellie says your coleslaw is out of this world. Based on your burgers, I’m inclined to believe her.”

  “Do you like to cook?” Jana asked the little girl.

  “I help Grannie Buckton with the cookies and brownies sometimes. I mostly like to draw, although Aunt Ellie taught me to knit and I like that, too.”

  Jana smiled. “Your aunt Ellie would teach everyone to knit if she got the chance. She taught lots of people back where we worked in Atlanta.”

  Audie scooped out a big helping of the coleslaw when Witt handed her the bowl. “Did she teach you, Miss Jana?”

  “I haven’t had time to learn yet. Besides, I’m not much for sitting down. I stand most of my day at work, and I like to run when I have free time.” She threw a quick glance at Witt. “I’m thinking I won’t have a lot of free time for a while.”

  “You can stand while you spin with a drop spindle. Aunt Ellie taught me that, too. I can show you after dinner if you like. We use the bison fur to make the yarn you can buy at our store in town.”

  Jana laughed. “I see you have your cousin Witt’s gift for public relations and persuasion.”

  Audie’s cheeks turned pink. “That’s what Gunnerdad says.”

  “Chef Jana’s food is really good,” Witt added. “Ellie was dead on about the coleslaw. What’s in there to give it that...” he searched for a word “...zing?”

  It never got old hearing people praise her food. She gave Witt a sly smile. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  “Secret family recipe?”

  “Secret Jana recipe. I don’t come from a cooking family.” She didn’t come from much family at all—divorced parents, an only child, no strong connections to aunts or uncles, no living grandparents. Yet when Jana discovered cooking through a high school class, the kitchen became the place where she felt most at home. Any kitchen where she could make her food. This whole big-family dynamic felt like a foreign country to her.

  “You didn’t eat in your family?” Audie asked, eyes wide.

  Jana grinned at the girl. Looking around at the crowded table heaped with food, Audie must have found the concept impossible. “I didn’t mean it that way. The people in my family cooked to feed themselves, but not much more.” She picked up a piece of cornbread and held it up. “To me, cooking is art and science. It’s a gift and an experience for people to share. I’m happiest when I make meals for people. Meals that make them smile and marvel and delight in the pleasure of great food.”

  “I like food,” Audie replied. “And Cousin Witt’s right—this is really good. If I were a cabbage, I’d be happy to be in this coleslaw.”

  Jana couldn’t help but smile. “Well, that’s about the best review I’ve ever had. Maybe we should post that on the side of the Big Blue Bus. ‘Our coleslaw makes cabbages happy.’” She raised an eyebrow in challenge to Witt.

  His eyes slanted. “How about we just tweet that one? By the way, we’ve got a photographer scheduled on Wednesday to take some shots of you and the truck. Promo stuff. You okay with that?”

  Jana tried not to stiffen. Yes, it had been years since she’d had to deal with Ronnie and his harassment, but the fear remained, and the instinct to hide, to avoid putting her face or her name out there in a public way that might draw his attention again. “I’m not one for photos. Take all you want of the food or the truck, but skip the ones of me if it’s all the same to you.”

  “Nonsense. We need at least a few shots of you. The pretty woman behind the burger grill? You’re one of our best marketing hooks. We’ll need three or four shots we can use. It won’t hurt, I promise.”

  Jana tried to stifle her reluctance to being anyone’s “hook” with the compliment he’d just paid her. It didn’t work. “One.”

  “Two?”

  “You’re the prettiest chef I’ve ever seen,” Audie offered, oblivious to the tension. “I think everyone should see your picture.”

  Jana tried to sigh rather than scowl. “Thank you, Audie, but I’m not big on publicity. I’d rather let my food get all the attention.”

  “So Wednesday’s okay?”

  It annoyed her how much he pressed the point, but she wasn’t going to win this one. Not when surrounded by Bucktons. “Yes, Wednesday will be fine.”

  Chapter Three

  Tuesday afternoon, Witt looked around at the full trash can and the truck’s empty cupboards. “I think that went pretty well.” They’d set up unannounced outside a group of office buildings at lunch hour, launching a two-hour “test run” to see how things worked.

  “It could have gone better.” Jana sat with her legs dangling out of the truck’s open back door, her chef’s coat unbuttoned to reveal a bright orange T-shirt, and a big mug of coffee in her hand. She wore a bright yellow scarf like a headband in a failing attempt to control the wild curls that kept escaping her piled-up hairstyle. Jana’s hair held a troublesome fascination for him—the curls seemed to have a mind of their own, framing her face in a different way every time he looked at her. Right now they were plastered to her neck in a maze of circles that should have looked messy and sweaty but instead looked more mesmerizing than he would like to admit.

  “Did you see how those guys ate your food?” Jose asked as he finished loading trash into a plastic bag. “You were a hit, Chef Jana.” While Witt had harbored some doubts about Jose as kitchen help—the kid wasn’t even six months out of high school—the boy had proven a hearty worker. He also spoke Spanish, which ended up being very useful with some of the office workers and many of the landscape workers from the park across the street. “I heard ‘delicioso’ more times than I can count.”

  “The lines were too long. We need to streamline the prep process a bit.” Jana squinted one eye in thought, as if already pondering tactics in her mind.

  “No, no—the lines were great,” Witt countered as he popped open a soda can and offered a second to Jose. “Lines let people know Blue Thorn Burgers are worth waiting for. Didn’t we agree six people in line was okay?”

  “For the first two weeks,” she reminded him. “And we had more than six a lot of the time.”

  “That’s not so bad, is it? This is our first real operational test.”

  Jana wasn’t convinced. “Any more than six, and a customer’s got too much time to change their mind.” She swirled the last of her coffee and then drained the cup. “I think we can speed things up, though I have to admit, you were pretty fast at the cash register there, cowboy.”

  Working the register was the easiest way to track their sales per hour, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. “That’s me, master button-pusher.” He sat down next to Jana. “I worked the counter at the local hardware store through high school. I work the counter at the Blue Thorn Store every now and again, too, just to get a feel for the customers. I was watching the customers today.”

  “I’d expect no less of you.” It wasn’t quite a jab, but close. “And what did you get a feel for?” She sat back against the door frame, defensive but clearly c
urious.

  “I think we need a few more things to appeal to female customers.”

  That brought a look from her. “Watching the ladies, were you?”

  “Watching the ladies eat, actually. The burgers seem too big for them. I was thinking maybe we need sliders.”

  Her head tilted dubiously to one side. “Sliders are trendy.” It wasn’t a compliment.

  “Sliders are smaller, easier to handle. Same basic food, just a slightly different delivery. A plate of three sliders and slaw would sell well. We could play up the low-fat health benefits of bison meat, too. Do a two-slider or one-slider version as a kid’s meal, even.”

  “Whatever you do, don’t mess with the fries,” Jose remarked as he leaned against the open door. “Those are awesome. What is that you put on them?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” Jana teased. Hadn’t she said the same thing to Ellie’s inquiry of her coleslaw recipe? “Seasonings are my thing. It’s what makes good, simple food great.”

  Jose preened the collar of his shirt. “I like a lady who knows how to be spicy.”

  Jana tossed a dishrag at the boy. “Every once in a while I forget you are a teenager—and then you remind me. I’ll have none of that in my kitchen.”

  “Okay, okay.” Jose held up his hands.

  “Yes, Chef,” Witt corrected.

  “Yes, Chef,” Jose relented.

  Witt turned to Jana. “You’re all set for tomorrow’s photo shoot?”

  Her eyes lost any sparkle. “I suppose.”

  “You act like I’m making you go to the dentist.” With Jana’s natural beauty, Witt couldn’t imagine what would make her shy away from cameras.

  “It’s not my thing, that’s all. Like I said, I prefer to let my food do the talking.”

  “I get that, but people connect to people as much as they do to food. The way you look, the way you talk about food, the connection you make with customers? All that is just as compelling as a great burger. You’re highly promotable, Jana. That’s a good thing. It’s a strength we can use.”

  “That’s marketing talk for ‘you’re pretty and guys’ll like you,’” Jose said.

  Jana gave Witt a dark look. “Is it?”

  Witt knew this was thin ice, but he did want to get his point across. “Not in the way Jose thinks.”

  “So how does Witt think?”

  Witt searched for the right words to compliment her beauty without insulting her talent. “You’re unique. You don’t look anything like the other guys hawking burgers around here. You are a beautiful woman and I’d like to think we can use that without getting stupid or exploitive about it. The fact is you look as good as you cook. Why can’t that be a strength we can build on?”

  “My man’s got a point,” Jose said as he leaned up against the truck door.

  My man? Witt threw Jose a “don’t get cocky” glare.

  “Look, I don’t want you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. I don’t want to cross any lines here. But the truth is that I can promote you just as easily as I can promote the food—maybe even easier. You make us unique in a way that people can see even before they taste your cooking.”

  He could see she was skeptical. “I promise, you’ll have approval on every promotional shot that goes out,” he went on. “This photographer, Mica? I’ve used her before. She can get shots that really let your personality shine through. We want to promote you for who you are—not just for the way you look. No one wants to turn you into a spokesmodel.”

  “But you could,” Jose offered. “I mean, the whole hot-chef thing could...”

  Witt cut Jose short by yanking the door, nearly sending Jose tumbling. “That’s quite enough of that. You’re done here. Why don’t you head on back to your brother’s and we’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Hey, sure. I’m gone.” With that, Jose pulled off his apron, hopped on his bike and headed off down the street.

  “Maybe I should have listened to my gut and not hired him,” Witt said as he watched the boy pedal off.

  “He’s fine,” Jana dismissed. “He’ll be good, actually. Hard worker, quick on his feet, and just the right amount of misplaced machismo to appeal to customers. We just need to tamp down the teenage-hormone factor.”

  Witt laughed, then turned to give Jana a serious look. “So we’re okay on the photo thing?”

  She rubbed a spot of sauce off her arm. “I’ll get used to it.”

  “Mica will get it right, I promise you. It’ll be as much about the food as about you.” He paused before he added, “But really, you’ve got nothing to be nervous about for the pictures. You’re...” He stopped short of paying her another compliment. He definitely found her attractive, but if that wasn’t a recipe for bad choices in this setup, he didn’t know what was. He settled on “You’re just what we’re looking for.” Standing up, he retrieved his notebook and files from the truck’s back counter. “You got the email from Mica to bring the chef’s coat and two changes of street clothes? She wants some personal shots as well as some cooking ones.”

  “I got it.” He sensed she still wasn’t totally comfortable, but chose not to press it. Lots of women he knew got weird about having their picture taken, but none of them with less reason than Jana Powers. She was lovely, and Mica was friendly and encouraging. Tomorrow would be fun—Jana just hadn’t realized it yet. He got the feeling that once she got over her needless self-consciousness, she would glow for the camera the same way she glowed behind the grill—vibrant and engaging.

  He changed the subject. “Did you get the parking rental agreement from your building?” To his complete and delighted surprise, Jana had negotiated a great deal on parking the truck in her apartment building’s lot in exchange for opening up on-site the first Saturday of each month. Marketing combined with operational savings—music to a number-cruncher’s ears. Plus, it was much better than having to haul the truck back and forth from an industrial lot by his own apartment farther out of town where Witt had been parking it before.

  “Right here.” Jana pulled an envelope from her bag.

  “This is an amazing deal,” he remarked as he scanned the papers. “I would never have thought of this.”

  She smiled, some of the earlier tension leaving her face. “Makes for a blissfully short commute. And I can fuss around in the kitchen at midnight if I get a new idea.”

  “Night owl?” Most people in the restaurant business were, according to Ellie, who worked with lots of chefs and other food professionals.

  “More like insomniac. I have one of those brains that rarely shuts down when it’s supposed to.”

  There seemed to be a bit of a story behind that remark, but Witt chose not to pursue it. “I know how that goes. I’ve kept a notebook by my bed for years, and another one next to my rowing machine. I seem to get all my best ideas away from my desk.”

  “You crew?” she asked. “Or row just for exercise?”

  “I was on the crew team all four years in college. Despite my height, I was never any good at basketball. Crew was the next-best place for a guy of my size.”

  “I had a friend who rowed in high school, and she got me involved, too.” She met his surprise with a smirk—at her height she clearly wasn’t tall enough to row. Maybe coxswain, though—those people who sat at the back of the boat and called out the strokes and directions were often small. “I got into it as a coxswain, not a rower,” she added, confirming his guess. “That’s where I honed my talent for barking orders.”

  His brain tried to conjure up an image of Jana perched on the edge of a rowing shell, gliding through the water on a misty morning, but he shut that attempt down as quickly as possible. Instead, he offered “Something else we have in common,” then wanted to swallow back the remark. Time to leave before you say something else stupid. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

  “Tomorrow.”

  Get your head in the right place, Buckton, Witt scolded himself as he walked to his SUV. He needed to make this food truck a success, to show his family—both at Blue Thorn and at Star Beef—that he could do this. An attraction to Jana put that goal at risk. He’d had employees before. He knew how to manage a staff without getting too attached. He had a feeling, however, that managing someone as strong-willed, attractive and off-limits as Jana Powers was going to be a whole new challenge.