“Don’t look at me!” I cried out.
My cheeks were burning and not only because of the hot, late summer sun beating down on us. But Liam, ever the gentleman, said nothing and jerked his gaze back to the rust in front of his face. But the small smile turning up his lips didn’t escape me.
“I-I swear, I didn’t see anything.”
The tips of his ears looked pink. Does Liam blush with his ears? “Liar,” I mumbled and hiked those shorts so high, I may have given myself a momentary camel toe. “I feel like it’s only fair that I see your undies now, too.”
His brow quirked. “You want to see my boxers?”
“You’re a boxer guy? Huh. I always imagined you as one of those boxer-brief types.”
He shrugged. “Nope. Boxers all the way. Actually, most days, I just go commando.”
I had to ignore the way my stomach somersaulted with that new factoid about Liam Evans. Was he ‘going commando’ now? If his pants slipped down right this second, would I get pure Liam butt flesh in my face? Oh, God, why could I not stop thinking about Liam’s butt flesh? Stop thinking the words butt flesh, Chloe!!
“You’re staring.” He cleared his throat, and I jerked my eyes up from where they’d been plastered onto his crotch to his face, where he was grinning down at me with that smug expression of his.
“Sorry… you just so don’t strike me as the kind of guy to go commando.”
“Can we stop talking about our underwear habits please? I didn’t even see anything. Just a flash of movement and, ummm… color.”
“Fleshy color?” I asked, my voice going shrill.
He shrugged and leaned in closer to the rust as though there was scripture written there he needed to decode. “It was all just sort of a blur.” I noticed the pink blush on his ears spread to the back of his neck and turned even darker. “Anyway… back to the food truck. It seems like extra work choosing a soft open date that we may or may not have to move because the truck isn’t finished being fixed.”
I took a deep breath, pushing aside the embarrassment from the fact that Liam and every homeowner here at his condo unit had just seen my ass. “Maybe. But every day this truck isn’t on the road selling is a day we aren’t earning income. We can’t get out of the red if we aren’t open for business. And having a soft open date that is flexible means I can start putting together our social media presence and press releases and booking interviews—”
His laugh interrupted my train of thought, and he quickly covered his grin with the scraper. “I’m sorry. Who in their right mind is going to want to interview us about this food truck?”
“Local news, blogs, maybe some travel magazines… point is, we won’t know until I start reaching out! And I can’t reach out until we have a soft open—”
“Okay, okay. Jeez, fine. When do you think we should open? In a month?”
“A month?” I shrieked. Oh, good Lord. We had very different ideas. “Riley said she only needed a couple of days to get the truck up and running. I was thinking ten days—”
It was Liam’s turn to guffaw. “Ten days? Ten days? Are you serious? It’s going to take us two days just to scrape the damn rust off this thing!”
Well, he wasn’t wrong about that. I sat back on my heels and stared at the cubic foot of rust it had taken me an hour to scrape. And frankly, two days was probably generous if we did it ourselves.
“And I have a real job,” Liam continued. “A full-time job that I need to work at.” He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut momentarily. “The truth is, my mother is going in for surgery in a few weeks. With Neil leaving the country, I just don’t have the bandwidth to keep Beefcakes afloat, be there for her, and rush in on all this—” He gestured at the truck.
My heart squeezed for him. “What if I handle all of it?”
He glanced at me, brows furrowed. “You’ll handle all of it?” He started ticking off reasons one by one on his finger. “We don’t have a permit. We don’t have working appliances in the truck—hell, we don’t even have the hookups for appliances. We need the truck inspected for health and safety. We need a menu, price list, zoning maps of where we’re allowed to park… and that’s just what I can think off the top of my head.”
I gulped. Holy hell, he was right. It was a long list for 10 days. I squared my shoulders. “I do my best work under pressure. I will take care of all of that in the time you are working at Beefcakes. All you have to worry about is having enough baked goods to earn us…” I squinted my eyes, thinking about the cost of materials for baking. “Maybe $350 a day to start with? Assuming that we can keep cost on the lower side and do most baking off-premise.”
Liam folded his arms, bouncing the scraper against the side of his ribcage as he regarded me carefully. “You’re really going to handle everything else? All I have to do is put a menu together and bake the items?”
I so badly wanted to bite my bottom lip… but I knew he’d see that I was bluffing if I did that. Instead, I tipped my chin higher and nodded. “That’s right. I think we should schedule a time soon… tomorrow maybe… to go over the menu and the prices we are thinking so that you can plan accordingly for what to make ahead of time.”
“You know three hundred and fifty dollars sounds really low, right?”
I sighed. “Yeah… but for a soft opening, it will look better to sell out and leave people wanting than to have products go bad and waste money if we don’t sell. Then we can add more moving forward.”
Liam nodded approvingly and dropped his folded arms. “Good point, Dyker.”
“Thank you. I do have them, occasionally.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he laughed, then nodded to the rust. “You missed a spot.”
I frowned at the burnt sienna color mocking me at the bumper of this stupid truck. “I hate this,” I grumbled and dropped back down to a crouch to continue scraping.
“Oh, come on. It’s not so bad. My mom always used to say singing makes the work go by faster.”
Singing? What the hell? Liam had clearly never heard my terrible singing voice, otherwise he wouldn’t have mentioned that. “Uh—you can sing if you want to. No one wants to hear my cat-scratch voice wailing Lady Gaga. Besides, I’ve already pulled a Britney and flashed the entire condo unit. But go ahead and sing if you want to, dude.”
He thought a moment and then started singing, “Rubber ducky, you’re the one—”
Heat flushed to my face. “Oh my God! I knew you saw my duck underwear!”
He threw his head back, laughing uncontrollably.
I grabbed the bucket of water and threw it on him. He didn’t even try to fight it as the dirty water splashed across his body. Instead, he laughed harder and shook his head, spraying water from his hair in every direction.
Gripping his shirt, he tugged it over his head, wringing it out between his fisted hands while I tried with all my willpower not to stare at his muscled bare chest and abs. Holy shit. Who knew Liam Evans was hiding a body builder’s muscles beneath his clothes? “Awww. Chloe. You know… you do make bath time lots of fun.”
“I hate you,” I grumbled and threw the towel that was on the pavement next to me at him.
Liam caught the towel with one hand and used it to wipe his face. “Ten days, huh?”
I nodded, swallowing a knot in my throat. “Let’s open a week from next Wednesday. That’s actually a little over 10 days.”
“Still pretty tight,” Liam sighed. “But if anyone can do it, it’s you.”
I grabbed the scraper and got to work on that rust. Liam was right… ten days was tight. But I’d be damned if I proved him right about that.
11
Chloe
It actually only took a day and a half of rust-scraping once I got moving. And that was with me working on it almost non-stop Sunday and all morning on Monday. It was one week later, and I was behind the wheel of our beautifully painted, freshened, and safe food truck.
I pulled up in front of Beefcakes, chec
king my watch. It was 3:00 p.m., which meant they would be closing soon. Sometimes, they even sold out of baked goods and closed early.
I rolled down the window, leaning my head out to try to sneak a glimpse of how busy they were inside. Not terribly, from what I could tell. There were only a few cars in their parking lot. I hoisted my torso out the window, craning my neck to get a better look, and as I did so, my hand on the steering wheel slipped. My palm landed dead center of the wheel and landed hard on the horn.
Which maybe in most towns wouldn’t have been that big of a deal, but here in Maple Grove, no one honked. Ever. Add on top of that, Riley had installed a musical horn… the kind that you would hear in movies or at the circus. It was also equipped with speakers that we could use to play music while we served food. I had thought it’d be a good idea at the time. However, right now in this moment, as the horn blasted out Go Your Own Way by Fleetwood Mac, I was severely regretting the decision.
Especially when Liam came tearing out of the front door of the bakery, looking really confused. Until he saw me… and the truck. Then his confusion lifted.
I cranked the keys, turning the engine off, and cautiously stepped out of the truck toward him, my smile more like a grimace as I approached. “What do you think?”
“Fleetwood Mack?” he asked, looking stunned.
“Best breakup song there is.”
Slowly, he walked over to the truck, peeking in the driver’s side before crossing around to the window where we would serve. He covered his mouth with his hand, then rushed toward the back, throwing the truck open and climbing up into the “kitchen”—if you could call it that.
I had ordered the bare basics in there. A sink to wash our hands. A refrigerator, an electric burner, fryer, microwave, and the biggest necessity—a coffee pot.
“Well?” I asked. My voice sounded small, and I hated how much I was seeking his approval. But we were partners here, and he and I were in this together. His approval didn’t just mean something to my heart. It meant everything to the business. After buying the truck and the appliances, the permit fees, and the first payment to Riley for her work fixing up the truck, my bank account was down to the double digits. I wasn’t even sure I had enough cash to make it until Wednesday. Lucky for me, my sister was helping me out by paying some of the mortgage while she crashed in my house with me.
The shock on his face twitched, lifting his brows. Then, his mouth curved into a smile. “Holy shit,” he said, swiping his hand through his hair and spinning to face me. “You did it.” His grin widened as he looked at me. “You did this all yourself?”
I shrugged. “I had some help from my mom and dad and sister. We all installed the appliances over the weekend. Who knew my dad was so handy!”
Liam laughed and spun around, looking more closely at the space. “Where’d you find these?” he asked, examining the food-truck-sized appliances.
“A guy down in Concord was selling his old equipment. I got a good deal on them because they were pretty dirty and kind of old. But nothing a little Windex and elbow grease couldn’t take care of.”
“Chloe… this… this is…” He shook his head and paused, as though searching for the words. When his bright green eyes finally found mine, his lips curved into the softest grin. “This is incredible. I can’t believe you pulled it off.”
I grinned back as warmth spiraled out to my limbs from my core. “Well, not all of it,” I said. “I couldn’t get us much media coverage. We have a small article going in the local paper. Our Facebook and Instagram accounts are up and running, of course. And I have a lead on maybe getting interviewed on the local 5’clock news. But that’s it. No other bites.”
“Is that normal?”
I sighed. “Sort of. News likes to pick up a story when it takes off. If our food truck is a sudden success—like those Popeye’s chicken sandwiches, then they’d want to interview us. Or if we were doing some sort of event we were promoting, like donating the first week of proceeds to a charity…”
“Why don’t we do that?” Liam said, still grinning from ear to ear. “We could donate the proceeds of our first week toward your sister’s healthcare clinic.”
I loved that Liam’s brain—and heart—went directly to charity. “That would be nice…”
“But?”
“But I’ve really drained my bank account starting this up,” I admitted, feeling the blush rise to my cheeks.
“Why didn’t you tell me? I can help with that,” Liam said quietly.
I shrugged. “You have a lot on your plate. And I know you and Neil are struggling to pay off your mom’s bills—”
“We’re not struggling nearly as much now that Neil’s check from the reality show came in. Besides, we’re partners.”
It didn’t really feel like I had a partner this week, which was admittedly my own doing. Fear lurked in the back of my mind that Liam would walk away from the business. Leave me with a stupid food truck and no skills to cook or serve from it. “I didn’t want to burden you. Not when I had promised to make this as easy on you as I could.”
Liam closed the distance between us and put his arms around me, pulling me into a tight hug. It caught me so off-guard that I actually gasped into his shoulder as he said, “You did… and at your own expense. I shouldn’t have let you do all this work without me. That’s not what a good business partner does. I’m so sorry.”
I blinked in shock as he pulled back, pushing me to arm’s length, but keeping his hands gently on my shoulders. “Even still, you knocked this out of the park, Chloe. It’s perfect.”
My grin widened and my eyes flicked to where Liam’s tongue slid across his bottom lip.
The draw to lean in and kiss him was so strong, so potent. “Chloe?” Liam’s raspy voice saying my name did nothing to abate the pulse between my legs or the stare I had locked on his full, slick pout.
“Yeah?” I whispered, slowly dragging my gaze up to his.
“Knock, knock!” A loud bang came on the side of the truck, and I jumped, nearly falling into the refrigerator. “Chloe, are you in there?”
It was my sister. Shit. My sister. Who I had promised that never in a million years would I get involved with Liam.
I caught my breath, hitching it high in my lungs, and threw open the awning to peek out of the truck. “Hey!” I cried. My voice was just a fraction too shrill. My eyes, a tad too wide. My smile, slightly too rigid.
And if anyone in the world would notice, it would be my big sister.
Sure enough, she paused, examining me. “You okay?”
“Um, yeah. Of course, why wouldn’t I be?”
“Oh… kay. Oh, hey Liam! It’s good you’re both here. I just need your signatures here on the permit, and you are good to go.” Elaina slid the permit and a pen across the counter toward us. I clicked the top of the pen and scribbled my name and date at the bottom, then handed it to Liam to do the same.
“I scheduled you an inspection for nine tomorrow morning. He’s agreed to meet you here in the parking lot, since I figured that would be easier for you, Liam. Don’t be late. He’s squeezing you in as a favor to me so that you can hit your soft open.”
I rolled my eyes. “Why do I feel like you’re talking solely to me about not being late?”
Her mouth twisted and she gave me a look. You know that look. The pointed, judgmental kind that says c’mon without actually saying it. “Uh. Because I know you. I shared a bathroom with you for eighteen years and practically had to drag you into my car every morning for school.”
“And also,” Liam added, “I work here… so, you know, I’m not going to be late.”
I narrowed my gaze at him. “You’re not helping.”
He shrugged, seeming unaffected by my warning. “I had first period calculus with you junior year… and you were never on time.”
“Was it my fault that my locker was on the other side of the building?”
Liam pressed his lips together and shared a look with Elaina. It only
lasted for a second before I threw my hands into the air. “That was years ago, guys! I promise I won’t be late tomorrow, okay?”
“Good enough for me,” Elaina said, then lifted on her toes to try to peer into the truck. “You got any sweets back there right now?”
I shook my head, looking around the bare kitchen. “Not a single one.”
Liam hitched his thumb over his shoulder toward Beefcakes. “I’ve got some in there, though. Even got a cupcake that’s made wi—”
“No, no,” Elaina said hastily, backing away from the truck. “I’m fine. I have yogurt and almonds waiting for me at my office.” With a small wave, she dashed off, nearly diving into her car and screeching out of the parking lot.
Liam sighed dramatically. “Wow, just the prospect of walking into the bakery had her pulling a Fast & Furious out of the parking lot.”
“Yeah. I think there’s a lot of memories in there that she’d rather avoid.”
“So, they’re still not talking?” Liam asked.
I shook my head. “Nope. They’re both too damn stubborn.” I turned to look at Liam. “Wait, you didn’t know they weren’t talking?”
Liam shook his head. “My brother and I aren’t like you and Elaina. We don’t really huddle up and share our feelings all that much.”
“Huh.” I couldn’t imagine having a sibling I didn’t talk to every day. Even before Elaina moved in with me, we literally communicated daily—whether by a text or Instagram message. Or even just a random gif. It made me suddenly sad for Liam and Neil.
“You know,” Liam said, “Maybe we could arrange something where they have to both come?”
It was my turn to screw my face together. “Like a setup? Elaina will see right through that.” So would Neil, for that matter.
“If they see through it, then we didn’t do our jobs well enough.”
“Maybe…” I was doubtful, though.
“You know what we should do? A family sampling! I could bake up some ideas for the soft opening and we could have our friends and family do a taste test. Tell us which ones they think are best and what a fair price is.”
Sugarlips (Beefcakes Book 2) Page 9