The Wedding Gift

by Lucy Kevin

  Geraldine described it as, “Simply awful. The worst so far.”

  Even Lucy seemed a little less inclined to be forgiving. “I’m sorry,” she said, “but this is really an unexpected combination for a hot dog. You’re a long way behind the others now, Julie.”

  Steve nodded. “Frankly, your dessert is going to have to be the best thing anyone has ever tasted just to give you a chance. I just don’t see it.”

  Andrew laughed then.

  “What’s so funny?” Geraldine demanded.

  “Frankly, I just can’t see how three people can be so wrong. This isn’t just a hot dog.” One by one, he went through the elements in it, ignoring the judges, facing the audience. “What I’m trying to say,” he explained, “is that this is easily one of the most delicious hot dogs anyone has ever produced.”

  Julie’s dessert was a big concoction of chocolate, cream, and whatever else had been laying around. Normally even Andrew would have dismissed it, but he couldn’t this time.

  Because he recognized it: she had perfectly recreated the dessert they’d come up with together the night she had spent with him.

  “Awful,” Geraldine declared again.

  “It is a mess,” Lucy said.

  Steve shook his head. “It looks like you ran out of time and threw everything on the counter into a bowl.”

  But for Andrew, there couldn’t have been a more perfect finish to the meal. The first three dishes had been Julie through and through, a perfect mix of simple and complicated. Basic, working food reinvented with flavors that had never been intended for them. Each one had been a risk, but had come straight from the heart, as well.

  And her dessert? Well, that was such a clear and direct message that Andrew wanted to yell cut just so that he could rush over and kiss Julie.

  God, how he loved her. Now, he just had to wait long enough for everyone to leave so that he could…oh, who cared if they were on live TV?

  Andrew strode across the stage, pulled Julie into his arms in front of the studio audience and crew, and kissed her.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The judges deliberated. Andrew had finally let Julie go to stand with the other contestants waiting for their verdict and she knew her face held a special well-kissed glow that every woman in the room had to be envious of.

  “In third place,” Lucy said, “we have Mitchel Crane.”

  He stepped forward to applause from the audience. Julie joined in politely, but her eyes were on Andrew. For his part, he barely even pretended to play his part as the gracious host. He was too busy staring right back at her, that gorgeous smile–along with the heat in his dark eyes–sending shivers through her.

  “In second place, it’s Natasha Smith.”

  More applause, but Julie couldn’t stop thinking about their beautifully unexpected kiss. What did it mean? Was it enough? Was she ready for—

  No, she wasn’t going to go down that road again. She was going to stop questioning the magic between her and Andrew, once and for all.

  What mattered was right here, right now. She loved him, and she couldn’t see any way that was ever going to change.

  Especially when he had believed in her even before she had believed in herself.

  “And our series winner for the grand finale of Edgy Eats cook-off is…”

  The judges dragged it out, of course. That was more or less obligatory, designed to ratchet up the tension according to the TV show handbook. Julie didn’t worry one bit about who the winner was going to be. After the comments from the judges, there was only one way it was going to go.

  “…Elaine Neilson!”

  That was that. Not even in the top three. In fact, given the nasty look that Geraldine gave her, very definitely in last place.

  There was a time when that would have mattered to Julie. Not today, though.

  Not when the only person in the room who mattered was looking at her as though she were responsible for the rising and setting of the sun.

  Julie took her turn congratulating the winner, then waited as patiently as she could at the side of the stage for Andrew to wrap up the show. He hurried through his lines at a speed that was just barely intelligible. Fortunately, the director didn’t call him on it, though that might have had something to do with the way Sandy had a very firm grip on the man’s shoulder at that moment.

  “Cut! That’s a wrap, and the series, folks.”

  The crew and the audience all cheered. One of the camera crew had smuggled in some beer, while even the producers seemed happy to join in the party atmosphere. Pretty soon, it looked less like a TV studio than the middle of a house party.

  Julie couldn’t care less about any of it as Andrew moved beside her and gathered her into his arms.

  “I love you,” he said. “I’m not going to hide that anymore, Julie.”

  “I love you, too. So much.”

  Before they could seal it with a kiss, they were interrupted by the approach of Geraldine and Lucy from the judging panel. Geraldine looked at them there and sniffed. “So that’s how you got into a contest like this. By sleeping with the host.”

  A day or two ago that would have had Julie cringing back and letting go of Andrew. Now, she just held him closer. “Absolutely. In fact, I’m pretty sure that there was only a contest at all because Andrew was trying to seduce me.”

  He pressed a kiss to her temple. “Not just a great cook, but brilliant, too.”

  “But…but that’s—”

  Julie raised an eyebrow at the nasty woman. “What’s wrong? Jealous?”

  “Jealous? Of you? Some of us are real chefs, producing real food, with real quality.”

  Julie shrugged. “I’ll settle for producing good food people want to eat. As long as I’m doing it my way.”

  “And that’s why you’ll never amount to anything,” Geraldine snapped back.

  Andrew raised an eyebrow. “As opposed to being a fine dining chef who can’t quite make the grade? I’ve seen some of the reviews for your cooking, Geraldine.”

  The chef stalked off, muttering to herself. Lucy, the Cuisine Channel, presenter waited a moment or two longer. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry I had to be harsh. I think I maybe got a bit carried away. Oh, and you’re right. I am.”

  “You are what?” Julie asked, not quite understanding.

  “Just a tiny bit jealous that you got the best looking man in cooking.” She smiled at them both. “Good luck.”

  Julie laughed as the other woman headed off, leaving her and Andrew as the only still point at the center of the chaos going on around them. Sooner or later, they would have to move out of each other's arms, but not yet.

  Not for a while, she hoped.

  “So, what happens next?” Julie asked after a minute or two.

  “Well, we could always head back to my place,” Andrew suggested. “And then I could make good on seducing you.”

  “You know what I meant,” Julie said. She went to her tippy toes to brush her lips against Andrew’s neck. “Though I’ll admit, your idea does sound nice. Very, very nice.”

  He buried his face in her hair for a long moment before saying in a low voice, “I was thinking of spending some time in France, but now, I think I might just stay in San Francisco.”

  “You’d better,” she warned him. “Though a vacation would definitely be fun at some point, working our way through offbeat, hidden restaurants.”

  “A woman after my own heart.”

  Julie didn’t know many men who would have been excited about her idea, but then, Andrew wasn’t most men. Not even close.

  Suddenly, she wondered about how easy it would be to put his previous idea into action and get back to his apartment. Although, the truth was that the best part of it all was knowing they could stay here, enjoy the party, and still be there for one another afterwards.

  Because neither of them was going anywhere this time. They were a team from now on.

  Julie was surprised when several people came up to
ask about the dishes she’d made in the cook-off. One woman around Aunt Evie’s age said, “It’s nice to see that real food can keep up with that showy stuff when it’s done right.”

  Everyone seemed to like the idea of Julie’s ‘real food’ even as they acknowledged that the way she’d done it had been unique and entirely personal. In fact, one of the producers even came up to her and Andrew, introducing himself as Rick.

  “Hello Julie,” he said. “A few of us were just discussing the show. Everyone in the audience seems to be really excited about your performance today.”

  “They’ve been very kind,” she said.

  Rick shook his head. “They’re never kind. Trust me. They do know what they want, though. You’re a natural in front of the camera.”

  “I don’t know about that.”

  “You are,” Andrew assured her. “And in the kitchen, too.”

  Rick got right to the point. “We still have a few gaps in our schedule, and we’d like you to consider putting your unique spin and personality into a new show.”

  Julie took a moment to translate his TV-speak. “You want to work with me for more than just a cook-off?”

  “Yes, and we’re hoping you’ll see what a great opportunity this is for you to increase your exposure, get some great ratings, and maybe move on from there to other shows or even opening another restaurant. The same thing everyone on this channel wants to do.”

  He was right. Anyone who cooked for a living would be leaping at the chance to have their own cooking show—except that Julie had tried for perfect before...and she wasn’t sure whether she was ready for that kind of pressure again.

  “What exactly would be involved?”

  “A few weeks of filming. We like to fit in multiple episodes each day to minimize disruption to our performers’ busy lives.”

  Beside her, Andrew snorted. “And to keep costs down, Rick. Let’s not forget that part.”

  “And that,” the producer said unashamedly. “Then a bit of promotion, possibly some spin-off things.”

  “It’s a lot while it’s going on,” Andrew said, “but he’s right. It could be a great opportunity for you. It’s just a question of what you want, Julie.”

  Which begged the question: what did she want?

  One answer to that was obvious. She wanted Andrew.

  Yet he of all people would be able to work around a filming schedule, so that wouldn’t stop her. So what was it that was currently making her back off even as she recognized what a great opportunity it could be? It wasn’t that fear of taking a risk again, was it?

  She smiled as she realized her reluctance stemmed from something else entirely.

  At the moment, working on the food truck, she was free. She could do what she liked, she had a boss who let her work her way, and she had customers who loved what she did.

  She was happy.

  Did she really want to trade that for a life of being told where to stand and what to say, just because it was what other people thought she ought to want? She could see the opportunity it represented, and she might very well take it, but not if it was going to mess with that freedom.

  “So what do you say?” Rick pushed. “If it’s the money, then I can assure you—”

  “Can I get back to you?” Julie asked, cutting him off. “This is all very quick and…I want to make sure that I can fit it all in the way I want...if I agree to do it, that is.”

  The producer’s smile froze ever so slightly. “Sure, just don’t take too long thinking about it. We might not wait, you know.”

  Andrew shook his head. “Yes you will, and you know it, Rick. Julie’s worth waiting for.”

  The producer drifted off and Andrew took Julie’s hand in his, twining their fingers together gently. It was such a simple gesture, but standing together in the middle of all those people enjoying themselves, it made her feel as though they were the only people in the world.

  He leaned close to her, which only reinforced the effect. “Whatever you decide to do, we’ll do it together,” he promised.

  “I know,” she said, and then, “I wish your family had been here for you today, and I know being with me isn’t the same as having your real family around, but—”

  Andrew silenced her with another kiss. “No. It’s better. Because with you, I know that you aren’t here because of some half-hearted sense of duty. You’re with me because you want to be. I thought I was the one giving my brother a gift by helping put the wedding menu together. Little did I know I was the one getting the best wedding gift of all: You.”

  Their lips touched again, a sweet kiss of true love. “Of course,” he said softly against her mouth, “being family means you get invited to family weddings. Will you come with me? Something tells me I’m going to need the backup.”

  Julie hugged him tightly to her. “I’d love to.”

  He beamed at her, before saying, “The only problem left is that I’ve still got to figure out what we’re going to do for the catering.” He shook his head. “Because I am not cooking at my brother’s wedding.”

  “Don't worry. You won’t have to. I’ve got a plan.” Julie smiled at the man she loved. “You know how I’m so gung-ho about food trucks?”

  Andrew smiled back as he quickly caught on. “I’ve heard there are some really great ones in the city.” He pressed a soft kiss to her lips, then said, “Why don’t the two of us get out of here and start tasting?”

  Epilogue

  Phoebe’s job on the wedding day was always multi-layered. While she obviously kept an eye on the flowers and changed out blooms as they began to wilt, she was also happy to lend a hand serving food and drinks, root through Anne’s sewing kit if either the bride’s or bridesmaids’ dresses needed a touchup, and even help Tyce sound-check his equipment.

  For the Kyles’ wedding, though, things were a little different. There was no need to help serve dinner, for one thing, because everyone was serving themselves from one of the food trucks that had parked around the edge of the chalet’s garden. Idly, Phoebe wondered which had been harder, talking the truck’s owners into spending their day working there, or talking Rose into letting it happen.

  Probably Rose, Phoebe decided, noting that the owner of the Rose Chalet was currently watching over the proceedings like a hawk.

  She followed Rose’s gaze out to the dance floor where Andrew and Julie were dancing–and laughing–together. Phoebe was happy for her friend. After all, who wouldn’t want to date a gorgeous guy like Andrew Kyle? She wished Julie all the luck in the world.

  It was just…Phoebe couldn’t help her twinge of cynicism at seeing them pressed so close together out there on the dance floor.

  No, not cynicism.

  Realism.

  If true love was real and couples stayed together forever, that would be great. But that wasn’t how things actually worked.

  Phoebe shook her head slightly, only too aware that the florist for so many weddings shouldn’t think like that. She knew what people thought of florists, that they were all hopeless romantics, obsessed with the thought of true love, and finding that Mr. Right who would bring her roses every day for the rest of her life.

  But all she needed to do was look at the facts. However happily Phil and Nancy Kyle looked at each other today, the statistics were clear: it was a fifty-fifty shot whether they would still be married just three years from now. Believing that you’d found true love was as crazy as being certain the lottery ticket you’d just bought was definitely going to win.

  You could be as certain as you wanted; it didn’t change anything.

  Not that Phoebe would ever express such thoughts to her friends at the Rose Chalet—or God forbid, Rose herself.

  Phoebe picked a white rose out of one of her own displays and let the scent of it drift over her. Forget Mr. Right. What was wrong with Mr. Right Now—with being honest with herself and having a little fun?

  Relationships were like the flower she held. Right now, it was beautiful. Perfect.
Pristine with a shockingly beautiful scent.

  But in a day or two, it would wilt and end up in one of RJ’s compost heaps.

  To Phoebe’s mind, people who thought otherwise were simply deluding themselves, however sweetly.

  “Would you like to dance?”

  Phoebe turned to see broad shoulders and handsome, square-jawed good looks. He reminded her a little of someone, though she couldn’t place who yet. His hair was cut short and his chin was decorated with dark stubble.

  “I’m Patrick,” he said, with a slightly crooked smile that did funny things to her insides.

  As she’d just pointed out to herself, why bother with Mr. Right when Mr. Right Now was gorgeous, available, and asking her to dance? A little short-term distraction was just what she needed.

  “It’s a shame to have great live music like this only for the prettiest woman in the room not to be dancing.”

  He didn’t wait for Phoebe to reply, but instead twirled her into his arms. And such nicely muscular arms they were.

  Yes, this was exactly the kind of guy she could have a fun fling with, especially since he seemed to be as willing to act on impulse as she was. Guys like that always understood how the game was played and, fortunately, didn’t go around asking for more than Phoebe was willing to give.

  “You still haven’t told me your name,” Patrick pointed out. “Or should I just go on calling you the prettiest girl in the room?”

  It had possibilities, but still, she smiled up at him. “Phoebe, and I’m fairly sure you’re supposed to say that the bride is the best looking woman in the room.”

  Her voice wasn’t usually that breathless. Then again, she didn’t usually see men this good looking at a Rose Chalet wedding...and dance with them, while she was at it.

  “She does look good, but then, every woman looks beautiful on her wedding day.”

  Uh oh.

  “You like weddings?” Phoebe asked.

  “Who doesn’t? Two people making that commitment to one another is so important. We should celebrate it more often.”