“Stress from what?” I asked.
“The food festival. What else? I have been obsessed with it for the last few weeks, wanting to make sure everything is perfect. And it looks like it has taken its toll on my health.”
“Well, nobody can really fault you for that. You’ve got a lot riding on the festival,” I said. “This is what dreams are made of.”
“Speaking of that, I also mentioned my weird dreams to Dr. Bonebrake, which I seem to have more of lately. And now that I think of it, you still haven’t told me about your dream about me. Spill the beans.”
I worked the sponge in circles around the tread of the tire, then looked up and grinned. “You tell me first.”
Zoe hesitated, a mischievous look on her face. “Okay, fine, I was a chef, cooking up fancy dishes in a fancy restaurant. I had a giant green spatula and a chef’s hat made of gold.”
I laughed. “Yeah, totally realistic.”
“Anyway, I was preparing a dish for a famous food critic.”
“Do you remember his name?”
Zoe smirked. “No, although he had a striking resemblance to you.”
“Why am I not surprised? I already don’t like this dream. It’s going to have a terrible ending. I can feel it.”
“Funny you should say that,” she said. “Instead of cooking the lobster, I accidentally put a live lobster on the food critic’s dish.”
“Accidentally?” I said. “Ha!”
“And then the lobster jumped off his plate and started chasing the food critic around the restaurant, causing chaos, mayhem, and bloodshed.”
“This literally happened to me just last week—it’s like you’re writing my memoir,” I said. “A lobster was chasing me through the Fairmont Hotel and bit me in the ass. Then I asked him why he had to be so crabby.” My delivery was pretty deadpan, but I finally cracked and smiled at the end. “And what happened to the food critic, who I am assuming wasextremelyhandsome?”
“I’ll admit he wasn’t so bad on the eyes,” Zoe said with a flirty smile. “Too bad he died in a tragic blimp accident.”
I threw my palms in the air as soap dripped down my arms. “I knew it! That was the worst dream I have ever heard of. Horrible ending.”
“Sorry. Maybe I’ll have a better one tonight,” Zoe said. “Now, tell me the dream you had about me.”
I shook my head but kept a straight face. “No. Can. Do.”
Zoe pointed the nozzle directly at me. “You can make this hard on yourself, or you can make it easy. The choice is yours, cowboy.”
My hands shot up like I was under arrest. “Let’s not do anything crazy here, Sheriff.”
Rolando’s Barracuda rumbled as he entered the parking lot and pulled up alongside the food truck.
“Zoe, put down your weapon,” Rolando said as he got out of the car.
Savannah got out of the passenger side. “Someone seems to be in trouble.”
“Lucas, what did you do to her this time?” Roland asked.
“I didn’t do a thing,” I answered. “She soaked me so I would take off my shirt. The woman is obsessed with seeing me naked.”
This time, the stream of water hit me in the side of the head.
“Okay—maybe I deserved it that time,” I said, chuckling as I wiped the water from my face.
Rolando hugged Zoe. “Glad you got your truck back.”
“Me, too,” Savannah said, also hugging her.