to avoid putting her face or her name out there in a public way that might draw his attention again. “I’m not one for photos. Take all you want of the food or the truck, but skip the ones of me if it’s all the same to you.”
“Nonsense. We need at least a few shots of you. The pretty woman behind the burger grill? You’re one of our best marketing hooks. We’ll need three or four shots we can use. It won’t hurt, I promise.”
Jana tried to stifle her reluctance to being anyone’s “hook” with the compliment he’d just paid her. It didn’t work. “One.”
“Two?”
“You’re the prettiest chef I’ve ever seen,” Audie offered, oblivious to the tension. “I think everyone should see your picture.”
Jana tried to sigh rather than scowl. “Thank you, Audie, but I’m not big on publicity. I’d rather let my food get all the attention.”
“So Wednesday’s okay?”
It annoyed her how much he pressed the point, but she wasn’t going to win this one. Not when surrounded by Bucktons. “Yes, Wednesday will be fine.”
Tuesday afternoon, Witt looked around at the full trash can and the truck’s empty cupboards. “I think that went pretty well.” They’d set up unannounced outside a group of office buildings at lunch hour, launching a two-hour “test run” to see how things worked.
“It could have gone better.” Jana sat with her legs dangling out of the truck’s open back door, her chef’s coat unbuttoned to reveal a bright orange T-shirt, and a big mug of coffee in her hand. She wore a bright yellow scarf like a headband in a failing attempt to control the wild curls that kept escaping her piled-up hairstyle. Jana’s hair held a troublesome fascination for him—the curls seemed to have a mind of their own, framing her face in a different way every time he looked at her. Right now they were plastered to her neck in a maze of circles that should have looked messy and sweaty but instead looked more mesmerizing than he would like to admit.
“Did you see how those guys ate your food?” Jose asked as he finished loading trash into a plastic bag. “You were a hit, Chef Jana.” While Witt had harbored some doubts about Jose as kitchen help—the kid wasn’t even six months out of high school—the boy had proven a hearty worker. He also spoke Spanish, which ended up being very useful with some of the office workers and many of the landscape workers from the park across the street. “I heard ‘delicioso’ more times than I can count.”
“The lines were too long. We need to streamline the prep process a bit.” Jana squinted one eye in thought, as if already pondering tactics in her mind.
“No, no—the lines were great,” Witt countered as he popped open a soda can and offered a second to Jose. “Lines let people know Blue Thorn Burgers are worth waiting for. Didn’t we agree six people in line was okay?”
“For the first two weeks,” she reminded him. “And we had more than six a lot of the time.”
“That’s not so bad, is it? This is our first real operational test.”
Jana wasn’t convinced. “Any more than six, and a customer’s got too much time to change their mind.” She swirled the last of her coffee and then drained the cup. “I think we can speed things up, though I have to admit, you were pretty fast at the cash register there, cowboy.”
Working the register was the easiest way to track their sales per hour, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. “That’s me, master button-pusher.” He sat down next to Jana. “I worked the counter at the local hardware store through high school. I work the counter at the Blue Thorn Store every now and again, too, just to get a feel for the customers. I was watching the customers today.”
“I’d expect no less of you.” It wasn’t quite a jab, but close. “And what did you get a feel for?” She sat back against the door frame, defensive but clearly curious.
“I think we need a few more things to appeal to female customers.”
That brought a look from her. “Watching the ladies, were you?”
“Watching the ladies eat, actually. The burgers seem too big for them. I was thinking maybe we need sliders.”
Her head tilted dubiously to one side. “Sliders are trendy.” It wasn’t a compliment.
“Sliders are smaller, easier to handle. Same basic food, just a slightly different delivery. A plate of three sliders and slaw would sell well. We could play up the low-fat health benefits of bison meat, too. Do a two-slider or one-slider version as a kid’s meal, even.”
“Whatever you do, don’t mess with the fries,” Jose remarked as he leaned against the open door. “Those are awesome. What is that you put on them?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Jana teased. Hadn’t she said the same thing to Ellie’s inquiry of her coleslaw recipe? “Seasonings are my thing. It’s what makes good, simple food great.”
Jose preened the collar of his shirt. “I like a lady who knows how to be spicy.”
Jana tossed a dishrag at the boy. “Every once in a while I forget you are a teenager—and then you remind me. I’ll have none of that in my kitchen.”
“Okay, okay.” Jose held up his hands.
“Yes, Chef,” Witt corrected.
“Yes, Chef,” Jose relented.
Witt turned to Jana. “You’re all set for tomorrow’s photo shoot?”
Her eyes lost any sparkle. “I suppose.”
“You act like I’m making you go to the dentist.” With Jana’s natural beauty, Witt couldn’t imagine what would make her shy away from cameras.
“It’s not my thing, that’s all. Like I said, I prefer to let my food do the talking.”
“I get that, but people connect to people as much as they do to food. The way you look, the way you talk about food, the connection you make with customers? All that is just as compelling as a great burger. You’re highly promotable, Jana. That’s a good thing. It’s a strength we can use.”
“That’s marketing talk for ‘you’re pretty and guys’ll like you,’” Jose said.
Jana gave Witt a dark look. “Is it?”
Witt knew this was thin ice, but he did want to get his point across. “Not in the way Jose thinks.”
“So how does Witt think?”
Witt searched for the right words to compliment her beauty without insulting her talent. “You’re unique. You don’t look anything like the other guys hawking burgers around here. You are a beautiful woman and I’d like to think we can use that without getting stupid or exploitive about it. The fact is you look as good as you cook. Why can’t that be a strength we can build on?”
“My
