She reached out and grabbed his hands, face earnest beneath the fringe of bright-pink hair. “Come on, Wes. My other guy called in. Shirtless Chefs is just getting off the ground. If I have chefs no-showing for parties, I’m going to catch hell in the online reviews, and the business will tank before I really get rolling. You’ve got the skills, you’ve got the blond bad-boy thing going, which is going to rock their socks off. And once upon a time, you could charm the ladies, so I know you’re capable. Plus, you said you needed the extra money. This is easy cash. Win-win.”
Wes grimaced. He hated needing the money. Hated that he was anywhere close to that place he was so long ago where he’d had to scrape together every damn dime. He’d thought he was far past that and then boom, life exploded. But need wasn’t even the right word. He had enough to live right now with his teaching gig. He knew how to stretch his dollars. What he wanted the money for was a stupid idea. Something he shouldn’t be messing with. His family would kick his ass if they even knew he was thinking about it.
Still, he couldn’t help closing his eyes and picturing the beat-up school bus his friend Devin had shown him last week. The old bus had looked like it’d been rolled off the side of a rocky cliff and set on fire, but Wes had been able to see the bones beneath, the potential to be converted into a food truck. He’d gotten that itch that he’d tried to ignore since he’d lost everything. The what ifs?
Wes had found himself inquiring about a loan at the bank. He’d known the answer before he’d asked, but he’d asked anyway. And he’d put out feelers with his friends, telling them to give him a call if they had any extra catering or temporary cooking gigs.
Of course, Suzie had been the one to call, and Suzie hadn’t informed him of exactly how her new private chef business worked until he’d arrived.
But now he was here and she needed his help. And dammit, he wanted the money. He tilted his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. “What am I teaching them to make?”
When she didn’t answer immediately, he lifted his head, finding her biting her lip.
“Suze,” he said, warning in his voice.
She held up her palms. “Don’t hate me, okay? There’s a bruschetta recipe and a Bourbon nut brittle that you’re going to love. But some of the other stuff is…themed.”
His shoulders sagged in acceptance. “I’m making dick-shaped things, aren’t I?”
“Um…” Her nose wrinkled. “There may be recipes for Big, Meaty Balls and Eat My Taco Dip.”
“I fucking hate you.”
She grinned and stepped up to pat him on the cheek. “You’re the best, Garrett. If I didn’t want to put lipstick on the merchandise, I’d kiss you.”
“You say the sweetest things, Suze. I just feel showered by your sweetness and affection.”
“Right?” She patted his hip. “Now go in there, be nice, and look pretty.”
“Nice. You treat all your employees like cattle?”
She stuck out her tongue. “Only my friends who won’t sue me.”
He let out a tired breath. “I won’t sue you, but if you tell anyone about this…”
“I won’t.”
“I could lose my job.” Not to mention whatever shreds of dignity he had left.
She mimed sealing her lips and tossing the key. “Your secret’s safe. I swear.”
“Fine. I’ll go in.”
She did a little celebratory clap, but then her smile sagged a bit. “You sure you’re cool with alcohol being at the party? I mean, I know I’m pushing you to do this, but for real, if that part’s a problem—”
“I told you on the phone that it’s not an issue,” he said, cutting her off, anger trying to surface. “Tonight, that’s the least of my worries.”
She pressed her lips together and nodded. “Okay. Good.”
He ran a hand through his hair, resigned. “Let’s get this over with.”
“Right.” She swept an arm out in front of her. “Godspeed, my friend.”
With one last steeling breath, he stepped past her and pushed open the door. All eyes turned his way and the blond woman with the penis hat grinned wide and clapped her hands together. “Ooh, y’all got me a stripper?”
Wes almost reversed his steps right there. Three. Two. One. Right back out the door. But he gritted his teeth and kept moving forward.
“Even better,” said a tall, dark-eyed woman at her side. “He doesn’t just strip, he cooks for us!”