Love Caters All

by Nicci Carrera

  Her heart sank. Rick’s mouth curved down harder at the edges than usual, matching her mood. He must be sensing the hopelessness of their attraction. “Maybe you’re right, Maya. I guess you better take your food truck and go home.”

  “You just don’t understand my cooking.” Her lip trembled.

  “And you just don’t understand my baking,” he said, to her back.

  She ran to the truck. Her heart wrenched at the sight of him. He stood ramrod straight in the porch light amid the songs of a thousand crickets.

  She pulled onto the main road. His words registered. What in the world did Rick mean by the last line? She didn’t understand his baking? Out of all the angry words they had flung, he was upset about his baking?

  ****

  Who would’ve thought a Bachelor of the Year would have such a crap-ass way with women?

  Maya’s truck wobbled from side to side. If she had an accident, it would be Rick’s fault. By the time he reached the driveway, she had disappeared around the corner.

  Baking? Why had he lobbed that particular argument? It hurt like suck that she didn’t want him. Just because he could do a few things? He thought women liked men who could cook. Not Maya, though, apparently. He climbed back up the stairs, shaking his head. The house did smell pretty good. What had he done that was so bad? He’d baked some bread to bring to Maya’s house.

  Her food truck in his driveway had spawned instant misgivings. He’d reassured himself, somewhat desperately, that there was still hope Maya would come up with something other than shellfish. Maybe his speech about the wonders of her mother’s cooking would make her think of homemade tamales? Then she had served up the bowl of shellfish. The steaming broth smelled of bay leaves. She’d made a complicated expensive meal. Slaved over it. Thanks to his failure to communicate, Maya would now head home to cry in front of Mama. He’d be on the outs with Maya and her whole family. His gut clenched. He hated these kinds of feelings. This time he couldn’t even lose himself in computer-game reality.

  Rick trudged into the bedroom. Kicking off his shoes he flopped on the bed with his hands clasped behind his head. He stared at the ceiling for a while. His usual thoughts plus the new ones of his argument with Maya intruded. All the different ways he had failed played on the movie screen of the textured ceiling. Replayed the different ways he had lost. Everyone always left. It was just the way the world worked.

  But he couldn’t lie here feeling sorry for himself forever. He rolled onto his side. He reached with his other hand for the book on the nightstand. The cracked worn paperback was rough beneath his fingertips.

  Seducing Sarah. Not the best retreat from woman trouble. But once he started one, he couldn’t abandon a book. So he continued reading where he’d left off. Of course it wasn’t long before thoughts of Maya interrupted. About having her here in his arms. His mood lifted.

  Remembering her fiery anger, he snorted. The way her ponytail bobbed when she stamped her foot. The way her ample cleavage jiggled. Whew. How she stuck her little hands on her hips when she was mad. How she nibbled her lower lip when she was thinking.

  He’d practically made her cry.

  He picked up the phone receiver. “Hi, Pilar. Is Maya there?”

  “I thought she was with you.” Pilar’s voice had developed an edge of concern by the time she finished the sentence.

  “We had an argument.”

  “Ay, caramba. What is wrong with the two of you?”

  “There’s nothing wrong with Maya. It’s all to do with me. Anyway, I need to apologize.”

  “I thought this was an apology dinner she was making for you.”

  He chuckled. “Things aren’t working out quite the way we expected.” Understatement of the year.

  There was a long silence. “In that case, knowing Maya, you can probably find her at the truck at the hospital. She can always figure out something to do at work when she’s having man trouble. She gets up at four a.m., so she’ll be tired. It wouldn’t hurt if you went down to help her out.”

  “Thanks, Pilar.”

  He headed out the door.

  ****

  Maya didn’t start crying until she had the truck back into position by the hospital. Dusk sank over the parking lot. Harsh fluorescent light hovered below partially drawn shades in some of the occupied rooms. No one in the hospital rooms was there by choice.

  Maya pulled a tissue from the glove box. She blew her nose and managed to choke down a sob. What had they been arguing about? Where had all her hostility come from? He must think she was a freak. Her anger stemmed from her experience with the jerk last summer. She shouldn’t keep putting her baggage on Rick, but it was hard not to. The baggage had wheels and was sliding out into the main aisle of her life.

  She climbed out of the truck and moved the stair cage into place by the back door. While she washed the pots, the argument replayed. One thing stuck out. His joke about the twins had really sent her over the edge. Why? Because he, like every other man on the planet, found them gorgeous. Worst of all, they were much better suited to him. Never mind that they weren’t interested in him. Surely he was more into them than her. What man wouldn’t be?

  A car pulled into the parking lot. Even though his was a nondescript rental, she knew it was Rick. Her heart lifted. Shoot. He should not have that effect.

  He would see she had been crying. Some work with a tissue and a little compact with a built-in light helped. Puffy red eyes weren’t going anywhere, though.

  The car door slammed. Moments later, Rick appeared at her service window.

  “Hi,” she said.

  “Hi.” He wore a sheepish expression. His sunburned arms looked burnished in the sunset colors.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Not as sorry as I am.” He shook his head. “Come on, how can I help out?”

  “You haven’t had dinner yet.”

  “Neither have you.”

  “I’m not hungry.” She was being a little petulant.

  “Neither am I.”

  “I hate to waste food.” Yeah, that was it. Make him think her anger was about the wasted food, not his comment about her sisters.

  “Is there some kind of food pantry we can give it to?”

  “Not at this hour. And I don’t know anyone hungry enough to want leftover seafood for breakfast.”

  He nodded. “Can I at least help you clean up so you can go home for some rest?”

  “Okay.” The knot in her stomach melted. She unlocked the door. He climbed the steps, joining her on the landing. He smelled so spicy she could lick him. Male energy emanated from his hard body. His half smile brought the dimple. His eyes sparkled. How was she supposed to resist this man?

  Inside the truck she kicked off her shoes and slipped into flats. Together they finished the cleaning. The truck was ready for another day of business.

  They stepped outside.

  “What time do you have to be back?” Rick said. “Your mama said something about four a.m.”

  “Tomorrow’s a little different. Jason will run the show here while I prepare for catering the artist’s reception tomorrow evening. I’ll be here. But I need to work on prep for the catering job. Jason will handle the regular truck clientele. We have a lot to juggle tomorrow. Yes, I’ll be up at four to do the daily baking first.”

  “How ’bout if you let me do the baking for you tomorrow? I’ll get it ready at the house.”

  “You don’t have any ingredients. Do you?” Then she remembered the smells inside the house. Maybe he did.

  “I do. Let me take care of it for you. I’ll meet you here. What time?”

  “We open at six. The morning crowd likes muffins. They go through them like a wrecking crew, so we’ll need six-dozen. Can you handle that?”

  His brows rose. Would he back out? Her body had already started counting on the extra rest.

  “Sure,” he said.

  She straightened. “I’ll get a couple extra hours of sleep. I’ll get here at seve
n. Do you need blueberries?”

  “Yes.”

  She grabbed a flat from the fridge.

  His brows rose. “That quantity puts the job in perspective!”

  “Sure you can handle it?”

  “I don’t know how you do it on top of everything else, but yes, I’ll focus on just this baking. You’ll have your muffins.”

  Was he trying to show he respected what she did? He didn’t really have to do that. But it was nice.

  “I’ll see you at seven.”

  Bone weary, Maya drove home. Would Rick really show up with the goods? Or was she crazy to trust him? She had no choice. She was so dead tired she had to trust him. Not in a huge way, but he had to come through. If Love Caters All came up short on muffins, even once, they would disappoint customers. Disappointing a customer, even once wasn’t part of her success plan.

  Falling for an out-of-town bazillionaire—not once but twice—was definitely not on her emotional success plan. Wait. Was she falling for Rick? Oh, she was just too dang tired to think about this anymore!

  Chapter Five

  The aromatic yet muggy interior of the Love Caters All truck felt like home. Scary!

  “What’s all this fish?” Jason stared at the interior of the white cooler, blinking back sleep.

  “Can’t you use it?” Rick had been at the truck for an hour and a half, after being up all night. He didn’t have any sleep to blink back.

  “Not for breakfast.”

  Why was Jason so negative? “I thought it would be a windfall.” Sweat already beaded Rick’s brow. They’d only been open half an hour.

  Jason wrinkled his nose. “Mackerel isn’t too rare around here.”

  “Surely you can fry it up for lunch.”

  “I’ll write it on the specials for the day.” Jason plucked the chalkboard off the outside wall of the truck. “We’ll see how it sells.”

  Rick stocked blueberry muffins in the display case, his gaze traveling to the last of the trays. Would the muffins last? Should he get another batch started? He had to come through for Maya. It had been a while since raw production was a business problem. Watch him, Mr. CEO, flop at the restaurant biz. But it wasn’t his pride that really mattered. He’d be leaving Maya in the lurch if they ran out of muffins.

  “Mm,” a silver-haired, bearded man in a flannel shirt that hung over jeans moaned around a blueberry muffin.

  With a pair of tongs, Rick replaced the pastry in the display case.

  “Where’s Maya?” the man said.

  None of your business. “I don’t know.” Rick said. “I just work here.”

  “Who’re you?”

  “A friend.”

  “You bake this stuff?” The guy smirked.

  Jason appeared. “Hey, KS. Takin’ advantage of Maya not being here to have a sweet, eh?”

  The smirk disappeared. “Never mind. I’ll be on my way.”

  “Yeah...thought so,” Jason mumbled.

  The man hurried off.

  “Kaydon-Scott Bennson,” Jason said. “Runs the lighthouse. He’s diabetic. Maya helps his niece, Sin, who’s her friend, by pressuring him to eat the eggs instead of the sugary stuff. So where did you learn to bake like this? You’re going to be a tough act to follow.”

  “Thanks. Maya’s good too.”

  “Yeah, but she has so much other stuff to cook. Plus with managing the business, she can’t concentrate on the baked goods.” Jason chopped some celery. A minute later he eyed Rick’s shirt which had finger-strokes of batter painted across the front of it. “You should wear an apron, though.”

  “I didn’t have one.” Rick didn’t mention the flowery apron at the house. Mama must not have thought a man would be doing any cooking or she would have provided a masculine one. Pilar went out of her way to make the place comfortable. If the family embraced the idea and stocked the pantry with the basics, their rental would get popular, he bet. Plus, he liked how Maya handled suggestions. Even though it probably aggravated her that the boutique idea was his, she listened to his advice. Because Maya put business over pride. Damn, he better not let her down.

  “There’s a chef’s apron in the drawer over there you can borrow next time.”

  “Thanks.”

  “So...you dating her?”

  “Who?”

  “Yeah, right. I’m not blind.”

  “I’m hoping to. Okay. Fair’s fair. What’s going on between you and Cara?”

  Rick’s question knocked the rest of the sleep out of Jason’s eyes. Good, it was the prep cook’s turn to be off-balance. But Maya arrived before Jason had to answer.

  Maya looked rested, clad in her usual black skirt with a colorful top. Her hair was shiny. So were her lips. “Hi, guys. Rick, thank you so much for getting here with the baked goods. Did you have enough?”

  Rick’s gut clenched at the question. “Everything’s right there. They are going fast—was thinking of making more.”

  She opened the drawer. After pulling an apron over her head, she tied it around her waist while she dashed to the front counter. “It’s enough. You must have cranked out the muffins last night. You did great. Thank you.”

  More relief flooded him than when GameCom beat Wall Street’s earnings expectations.

  “Did you stay up all night?” Maya touched his face.

  Rick resisted grabbing hold of her fingers. “Maybe.”

  Her eyebrows lifted, but she smiled. “Well, thank you. How was the morning rush?”

  “Nonstop.” He swiped some sweat off his brow with the back of his hand.

  She smiled. “Welcome to my life. Now wash your hands.” She looked at Jason. “Has KS has been by?”

  Jason nodded. “Yes. Once KS realized you weren’t around to be the police he had some sweets.”

  About the time they removed the pastry cases and arranged sandwiches and salads over ice to tempt customers, Rick started to crash. “Can you handle the fish without me?”

  “Never met a fish I couldn’t fry,” Maya said. “Why don’t you knock off? You’ve been a huge help. I can take it from here. Go home, get some rest.”

  “Sounds good. Do I get to help you cater tonight?”

  “Yes.”

  He was really part of her life. Rick grinned. “Is it a lot?”

  Maya matched his smile. “I’m just supplying the appetizers. It’s all set up. My temporary staff will be by to pick up the canapés. All I need to do is supervise. I’d enjoy your company. There will be a lot of people from Lobster Cove. Artists, patrons of the arts, city council members. There will be interesting people from out of town as well. Some art judges.”

  “I’d like that.” The best part was Maya wanted his company.

  ****

  At two o’clock, while Jason changed out the lunch food for afternoon snacks, which included the remaining muffins individually wrapped in plastic, granola bars, and sundries, Maya put the last touches on the appetizers and she made a few more phone calls. Next, she viewed a video of the set-up table with all of Love Caters All’s appetizers staged for the banquet. Andy, one of her waiters, had taken the clips for her.

  Andy was a college kid. Summer being her peak catering season worked out well, because she had access to locals home for summer vacation. Her sisters fit in this category, but she’d never hired them. Being an excellent waiter or a waitress required the right personality, which her sisters didn’t possess. Plus it was hard to boss them around. Could she boss Rick around? Sounded fun…

  Rick returned to the food truck wearing khaki shorts, sneakers, and a white golf shirt. He looked casual but professional. He was going to be great at the reception tonight. Maya should take a picture of him serving. She could blow it up to life-sized. Oh, yes…a laminated Rick-shaped cardboard cutout in front of the food truck would be wonderful. In addition to the famous baseball player Jason Ward, Love Caters All would have a “Top 100 Most Eligible Bachelor.”

  The poster board would sell a lot of tamales, but it would also exemp
lify the world’s most pathetic ex-girlfriend. Of all time. Maya could get rich because they’d probably base a TV series on her: “The Most Pathetic Bachelorette.” She could see the news now. Lobster Cove caterer Maya Cruz, who owns the food truck where Jason Ward now works, briefly dated Rick Nordan of GameCom fame. Although short-lived, Ms. Cruz has been able to capitalize on the affair by displaying a life-size standup of her ex outside her truck.

  Rick stepped through the door, his smoky-spiced cologne teasing her senses. Maya refrained from pressing her nose against his neck, barely.

  “How can I help?” he said.

  Jason tossed Rick one of the heavy aprons, which Rick pulled on. The black canvas on the white shirt made him look like he was wearing a tuxedo. Unbelievable. The man was a walking, living, breathing fashion model. And he was hers.

  No…he is not! Why did she keep letting herself be fooled? She enjoyed his company. A fling could be a good thing—as long as she didn’t actually go through with the poster board idea, of course—but he was not hers. Nor would he ever be. She needed to keep that straight. She needed to keep her heart out of this.

  What a ridiculous thing to be struggling with her heart. When did the wrestling match start? How many times did she need to get hurt before her heart would form a protective shell? She was vacation girl, not serious long-term girl. Let alone wife. Ugh, where had that thought come from? From the part of you that’s been trying your first name on with his last name.

  Craziness. Rick would go back to California where he’d either get back with the fiancé or meet somebody else from his world.

  They loaded the remaining appetizers into the van, though she didn’t do much work. The men were falling all over themselves to shuttle all the stuff. Staying out of the way seemed the safest course of action.

  At one point Maya stood on the landing, her finger on her chin, enjoying the show. Rick launched himself up the stairs on his way to get another armload. His head was down like a speed skater’s. Her gaze happened to be locked on his biceps. The bottom part of his tattoo showed below the short sleeve. The bright afternoon sun found highlights in his tousled brown hair to match the golden shards in his eyes. Every pass sent her another whiff of his intoxicating scent. All the notes she already knew…exotic spice…met with the earthy male scent of pure Rick. Maya’s eyes drifted shut. She could find Rick in the dark now.