Page 95 of Stirring Up Love
Cocktail hour would be simple. A charcuterie spread, crudités. But dinner? For250guests?
His phone lay on the counter, screen dark after he’d read through the latest in a string of text messages.
Bella:
You’re on your own, kid. But if anyone can pull off this crazy scheme, it’s you. Don’t let doubt hold you down.
He’d put out an SOS to the crew at Bella’s, but between the weekend rush and a death in Bella’s family, there’d be no assistance comingtheir way from Springfield. But he was not on his own, not by a long shot.
Behind him, Simone paced the kitchen, phone to her ear, gesturing as she spoke with a local butcher. Boss mode, and it took all his effort to pull his attention away from the stunning confidence she exuded and back to the notes he’d scribbled on a piece of parchment paper.
Under the scratched-out plated dinners, he’d writtenBuffet?Simpler on short notice, but he worried how the food would stand up to sitting so long. A chicken breast could go from juicy to dried out in the blink of an eye. And the elegant element would be lost. Unless they found a way to put a playful spin on a traditional buffet ...
“Sim,” he whispered, and he prodded her arm with the pencil eraser as she passed by.
“Hang on just a sec, Mal.” Scowling, she put her hand over the receiver. “What?”
He spoke fast, ideas keeping pace with his words. “What if we did DIY food stations? Macaroni and cheese, baked potatoes ...” They could prep the garnishes and focus on nailing a few main dishes.
“But what about proteins?”
Good point. “A grill station? Kebabs, or fajitas? Those cook up quickly, and we could utilize tofu for the vegetarians.”
She was nodding. “That just might work.” She put up a finger, brought the phone back to her mouth. “Hey, Mallory, can I call you back in a few? We’re still working out the details, but I’m guessing we’ll be over in about an hour. Great, thanks.” She hung up, then swiped at her phone, typing. “Lyndsey and Brent responded yes. My grandpa’s right-hand man, Hank, offered, but he’s like a second father to Alisha. I want him to enjoy the party.” Frowning, she rolled her lips together. “That just leaves Rhonda, our most experienced cook, but she’s not answering her phone. Regardless, with everyone else working the reception, we should be good.”
“But what about the restaurant?”
“It’s one day. Alisha’s more important.” No hesitation. Honey and Hickory meant the world to her, but she’d put everything on the line for those she cared about. Misjudged her? Oh yeah. He may as well have compared canned tuna to an ahi steak. She fought for what she wanted, yes. And fought just as hard for others.
She strode over to the door, took his jacket off the hook, and tossed it over. “The venue has a kitchen. Want to go over and scope it out? Then we can drive to the butcher and also see what we can rustle up in terms of seafood. Deal?” She froze, hands on the zipper of her coat.
Across the kitchen, their eyes locked.Deal?
“I’m in,” he said, heart in his throat. But was she?
“All hands on deck” took on a whole new meaning in a small town. Simone had painted herself as the prodigal daughter, but all Finn saw was the town sweetheart. The venue had a bare-bones kitchen, but tableware was part of the catering package, now null and void.
Even with all the cutlery and plates from Honey and Hickory, they were woefully short. So yesterday Simone put out the small-town Bat-Signal, and people turned up offering chafing dishes, electric grill pans, cutlery, and place settings.
He’d finally made it back to Springfield late last night after the rehearsal dinner—which had gone well, thanks to all the prep they’d done before the catering mishap forced them to switch gears and focus on the reception—to get a few hours’ sleep and return the rental car. Now he pulled his own car into a spot between two trucks in the reception hall lot.
Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he tried the door. Locked. He pulled out his phone to text Simone and let her know he’d made it.
“Look up, silly.” He did, and there she was, holding open the door. “Hope you brought a change of clothes,” she said, giving his uniform and nonslip shoes a once-over.
“I came to work, did I not?”
“Yes, but after dinner’s served, y’all get free range of the reception.”Y’all.Like he was just another worker. “And of course I’ll pay you what the Honey and Hickory cooks are getting.”
Bristling at the insinuation, he said, “I’m here to help you and your family, Sim. I don’t want money.”
“This is tricky, and I’m trying to negotiate things as best I can.”
“I get that, but I’m not here as your potential partner. I’m here as your ...” He trailed off, because what exactly was he to her now? An enemy no longer, but more than a friend ...
She reached up and rubbed a thumb down the center of his brow, her touch drawing him into the present. “I’m glad you’re here, in whatever capacity.” Almost shy, a smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “I’m getting kind of used to having you around.”
He wouldn’t push it, not this time. Last time he’d pressed for the answer, in the bed-and-breakfast, he’d scared her off. For now, he was grateful she’d let him stay. A one-eighty from summer, when she’d all but run him out of town.
