truck.”
“I know. Sorry.”
“Hey.” Jose grinned. “It’s only 10:28. I’m shocked that I’m early, too.”
Jana tried to paste a casual smile on her face. “Good for you.” She tossed him the truck keys. “There’s a bucket and some sponges under the sink, and a ladder behind the door. Get her all ready for her close-up and come up to Mica’s loft on the third floor when you’re done, okay?”
Jose caught the keys in one hand. “Sure thing, Chef.” Witt had insisted Jose use classic kitchen protocol and reply “Yes, Chef” when responding to all her requests. It came out lots of different ways—things like “Sí, Chef,” “Gotcha, Chef,” and “Yep, Chef,” which continually amused her. Sure, she’d been a bit put off by his wild-guy look with crazy long hair, and a large tattoo down one arm, but the truth was the kid had a sweet nature and a soft heart. He loved being here. He worked hard, too. She’d been startled at Ellie’s recommendation of kitchen help at first, but could truly grow to like the guy.
“Go stun ’em in there,” he called, waggling his eyebrows and even adding a wolf whistle as she turned toward the loft.
Jose’s teasing struck an already raw nerve. She had to get over the way she dreaded this photo shoot. Restaurants were a PR-driven business—through advertising, social media, word of mouth, or hopefully all three. It was clear Witt expected her to give interviews, and pose for photos with her burgers and the bright blue truck. Witt had every right to expect her to be ready and eager to do all those things. And really, what was there to be so upset about? She was about to get her hair and makeup done by a professional stylist and enjoy the glamor of a photo shoot—most woman would relish this experience.
You’re not shy, she told herself as she pulled open the large metal doors to Mica’s building. You were scared once, but that’s not the same thing. And you don’t have to be scared anymore. Ronnie Taylor is hundreds of miles from here and years in your past. Don’t you dare let that that creep steal your present or your future. You walk in that room as Chef Jana, Austin’s next food sensation.
As the metal box of an elevator groaned its way to the third floor, Jana straightened her shoulders, lifted her chin and inhaled all the way to her toes. I will live in fierce expectation of all God has planned for me, she recited, a favorite quote her mom had sent her in card after card during cooking school and beyond. Right along with the verse from Jeremiah 29:11—“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”
Jana’s hope and future were waiting up there on the third floor, and in the bright blue truck that stuck out like an aqua sunbeam in the parking lot below. She yanked open the elevator’s cage door with a deliberate gusto and let herself feel excited at the scene before her.
Mica’s loft looked exactly as Jana had imagined—a huge industrial space strewn with equipment, drapes, fans and props as well as an artfully decorated living space tucked in one corner. Swingy, energetic Americana jazz filled the sunlit space. Mica looked up from a tripod to wave eagerly at Jana.
“And there she is,” Witt called out from a counter where coffee and some bagels were set out. “Our star.”
“Her and the dozen burgers she’s going to make me,” Mica offered. “Oh, I do love the jobs where I can eat the props when we’re done.” She walked up to Jana. “Hang those clothes on the rack and grab yourself some coffee. Linda’s just getting set up over there.” The stylist looked up from her bag and waved just as Mica had done. “That woman’s a wonder,” Mica said as she leaned in. “I’d give anything to have her in my bathroom every morning doing my hair and makeup.” She winked. “I’d probably be on my fourteenth wedding proposal by now if I did. Not that you need much primping, sugar. Witt wasn’t lying when he said you were the whole package. That hair...” She ran her eyes over Jana’s mass of unruly curls as if they were strewn with diamonds. “Linda, honey, will you come look at this hair?”
“I can see it from here,” Linda replied. “Finally, the Good Lord sends me something I can work with!”
The pair of them plied Jana with compliments and encouragement for the next half hour, until Jana rose from the chair feeling like a beauty queen. She was going to have to get Linda to show her how she could do her eyes like this at home, because they looked twice their size and doubly bright. As she slipped on the chef’s coat, Jana felt beautiful. She tried to ignore the way Witt looked at her as she settled onto an ornate wrought iron stool sitting in front of a bright blue drape, but it was almost impossible.
“Va-va-va-voom!” Linda called as she stood behind Mica. “If you can cook as good as you look right now, honey, Blue Thorn Burgers is bound for success.”
“She can,” Witt replied. “And we are.” The resolute tone in his voice sent a little flip through Jana’s stomach that had nothing to do with anxiety.
“Turn the music up a notch,” Mica said, pointing Witt over to the stereo in the corner. “Let’s have some fun.”
She did have fun. Jana surprised even herself by enjoying the whole morning. She laughed, posed, climbed up on the truck, even got a bit goofy by the end as she mugged behind the line of twelve burgers she’d cooked up during the shoot. Jose was singing along with the radio by the end of the shoot, flirting with Linda, who was old enough to be his mother. When they all five of them sat down at the big table in the loft to “eat the props” as Mica had said, it had the feel of a family picnic rather than a dreaded promotional task.
“You were amazing,” Witt exclaimed just before his eyes fell closed in carnivorous bliss as he bit into a burger. “This is amazing,” he said after chewing. “I keep thinking I’ll get used to it, but your burgers are still incredible every time I eat one.”
“A gorgeous woman who makes burgers like these? It won’t be me getting fourteen marriage proposals—you’ll be getting a dozen a day.”
Jana felt her cheeks color. “I doubt that. I’ll settle for regular customers, thanks.”
“Oh, you’ll get ’em,” Mica said, licking stone-ground mustard from the corner of her mouth. “Trust me, they’ll be lining up for these.” She peered at the burger. “I’m eating buffalo? Really?”
“Bison,” Witt replied. “It’s better for you than beef, you know.”
Jose rolled his eyes. “Don’t let him get started. He can go on for hours.”
Everyone laughed. Jana looked around the room and allowed herself the pleasure of seeing her new friends enjoy her cooking. A hope and a future indeed. Look out, Austin. Here we come.
Thursday afternoon, Witt took Jana back out to Martins Gap to see the ranch again. It was fun to watch her take in the spectacular scene that was the Blue Thorn Ranch bison herd out in their pasture. He’d borrowed Gunner’s field truck to take her out into the fields—one simply didn’t stroll out into the open fields to pal around with thousand-pound animals—so she could really see what made the ranch unique. It’s the one thing they hadn’t had time to do when she’d come for the earlier dinner, and being out in the open fields was a whole different experience than sitting around the family ranch house.
“Wow,”
