He hugged me back, squeezing me affectionately. “Has it been like this all night?”
I blinked back happy tears and pulled away with a huge grin plastered on my face. “It was slow at first, but once it got dark, things really started to pick up.”
“You’re going to have to hire someone,” he murmured practically. “I can’t moonlight as your cashier every night.”
I narrowed my eyes, playfully negotiating with him. “How about just the weekends?”
“I’m already giving you the space for free, Vera! Good God.”
I laughed at how affronted he was. “I’m just kidding. I know you can’t, but I appreciate your help tonight. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t shown up.”
“No kidding,” he grunted.
I glanced out at the plaza. It was getting close to midnight, and only the late night venues were still open at this point. The shops and businesses closed hours ago, and the restaurants were dark now, with only their staff remaining.
Seeing no one wandering our direction, I turned back to Vann. “Are you hungry? I can at least pay you in food.”
“That is why I came over here.”
I smiled at him and his sarcasm. I couldn’t help it. Not even Vann’s surliness could put me in a bad mood tonight. I was high on endorphins, unexpected success and the feeling I got every time I stepped into a kitchen. “Pulled pork or grilled cheese?”
“You pick for me,” Vann said, letting go of a small, amused smile. “Grilled cheese, though? You really know your clientele.”
“If you mean drunk people, I told you. It’s all about catering to their need for greasy comfort food to soak up all that alcohol.”
He snickered at my honest answer. Granted, there would never be enough drunk people to keep me in business forever, but it was a start.
I finished making him a plate of one of everything and set it down on the counter next to him while he prepared to take another order. Glancing out the window, I saw there was a group of people staring at the menu, all dressed in white or black t-shirts and black pants. Some of them were wearing bandanas to hold their hair back. All of them look tired. And hungry.
They were clearly the kitchen staff from one of the nearby restaurants, but I didn’t recognize any of them nor did I know the area well enough to guess which one.
My gaze flickered to Lilou, but I highly doubted anyone from that kitchen would deign to grace me with their superior presence.
Stepping away from the window so Vann could take their orders I moved to the back of the truck and slipped my plastic gloves off for a second. My hair was in desperate need of a redo, and I wanted a second to take a deep breath.
In the back of the truck, I stepped up to the small mirror over the sink, and I fixed my hair in a knot on the top of my head. Using a few paper towels to pat my face, I felt refreshed and ready for more. I could hear Vann still talking at the window, so I let myself assess my face with a critical eye.
I’d definitely been working hard tonight. My cheeks were red, blotchy from excitement and effort. And yet the blush stain did nothing to cover up my freckles, in fact, it only enhanced them. My chocolate brown hair was darker near the roots where I’d been sweating. I grabbed a fresh bandana and folded it quickly so I could tie it like a headband and cover the evidence of my hard work.
Universal fact—nobody wanted to look at a sweaty chef.
Second fact—all kitchens were hotter than hell.
The only makeup I fussed with tonight was waterproof mascara, and that was holding strong, even if the rest of my face looked like I’d been running a marathon in the Sahara desert without sunscreen.
For one painful moment, I saw myself through his eyes and my stomach dropped to my feet. His voice whispered up my spine and wrapped around my new sense of confidence. I was too heavy these days. I had at least fifteen pounds to lose. My hair looked crazy on top of my head in a fat messy bun that was truly messy. I should have worn eyeliner to hide how tired I was, how haunted my eyes still looked. My chef’s coat was unflattering. My ears were too small. My lips too big.
On and on, the criticisms swirled around in my head, poisoning my good mood and flaring the insecurities that plagued me constantly.
“Vera?” Vann called from the other side of the truck.
My brother’s questioning voice broke the evil spell, and I shook myself out of that negative head space. Those were his thoughts. Not mine. Those were his words.
Never mine.
I was stronger than that.
I was confident.
Secure.
Not the doormat any longer.
I loved my hair, despite it being a pain in the ass. I was happy with the weight I’d gained, with the progress I’d made.
“Coming,” I hollered back at Vann. Turning the cold water on, I splashed water on my face and then spent a significant amount of time washing my hands.
I turned back to the kitchen and experienced a renewed sense of peace, a sense of being home, the thrill of anticipation and bite of nerves. I let those mixed feelings wash over me, mingling into a healing balm that I would never get enough of.
Cooking was the thing that saved me before, and this kitchen was going to be what saved me now.
Ignoring the orders Vann was still taking, I grabbed at the first ticket, glanced at it and got to work. I had filled three orders before I started handing them out the window.
The people waiting stood in friendly comradery, laughing at inside jokes and commiserating over their brutal night.
“He’s a beast,” a tiny woman with a lip ring growled. Her dark blue hair was cut in a hip pixie style, with shaved lines etched into the sides. I was instantly intimidated. She was way too cool for me.
A tall, lanky guy with full sleeve tattoos that reached all the way to his ears countered with, “He’s the best.”
“And he knows it,” the woman argued. “He’s a nightmare to work for.”
“Nobody’s making you stay,” another guy laughed. He was thick, built like a linebacker. His hair was hidden behind a black bandana, and huge gauges stretch his earlobes big enough to make me wince. “I hear Applebees is hiring.”
The woman glared at him, and I dangled their food out the window before they noticed I was eavesdropping. “Grilled cheese?”
The huge guy stepped up with a tight smile. “That’s me.”
I reached back for the two pulled pork orders. “These must be yours.” The tall guy and the short girl stepped up next.
“You know I’m not going anywhere,” the girl continued their conversation. “I just like to bitch.”
Both of the guys mumbled, “We know,” at the same time.
I got back to work, filling the next three orders. When I turned back to the window to hand them off, the tall guy was standing close by, waiting for me. His food was only half gone, and he held it close to his face, inspecting it thoroughly.
I called out the orders, handed them off and then turned to him. “Is there something wrong?”
His gaze bounced up to mine and I saw surprise written all over his features. “It’s good.”