Page 12 of A Taste of Christmas Magic

Right in the dead period.

“No need,” he said mildly when what he wanted to do was yell. The memories crowded close, and he knew his past was driving him to make a poor business decision.

“We’d kickstart our earnings. Get some buzz,” Rebekah pushed.

“Gotta get the menu perfected.”

“Yeah, like the menu is the problem.” Rebekah continued to call him out in front of his crew. “January’s the worst time to open. The industry screams to a halt.”

Like I don’t know that.

“We want a soft opening,” he reiterated. “Time to tweak.” He held on to his temper. He’d hired Rebekah because she was smart and pushed back.

“We need people at tables eating to have something to adjust,” Rebekah practically growled. “We’re ready for action.” She looked at the sample dishes his crew had prepared while he’d supervised and timed. “And beyond ready for cash. Our permits and licenses are ready. I checked with the chamber of commerce. We can have a food truck at the Christmas Market. We can have a food truck at the McAdenville lights, which you can probably see from the space station. Let’s get this party started. I even got two special-event liquor licenses. Used my own money.” She winked at Clara. “Don’t make me waste it.”

“We don’t have a food truck,” he reminded, struggling to keep his voice soft, though he couldn’t disguise its coldness, a warning for anyone but Rebekah.

“What about that funky bubble trailer you bought two years ago and kept playing with?”

“The vintage Airstream we tricked out!” Lucas fist-bumped Clara, and Rustin narrowed his eyes at his brother. “It would be rockin’ for parties. A few signature plates served out of one window and specialty holiday cocktails out of the other.”

“Yes,” Clara clapped her hands. “I’m all in. Tips are killer at events and parties.”

“The trailer’s not ready.”

Lucas opened his mouth likely to protest, and Rustin stared him down. “The Wild Side’s not ready. We can’t lose focus.”

“The trailer’s ready.” Rebekah rolled her eyes. “You tricked out its kitchen. All you got to do is cut a hole in the side to be a serving window, add a hinge. Voilà! Food truck, trailer, whatever. I got the licenses handled.”

“I’ll do it,” Lucas volunteered. He even raised his hand like he was still in school. “Rustin, I can do it on my own.”

“String some party lights, add an awning.” Clara caught the spirit.

“Bam! We’re in business,” Rebekah nodded. “I got our socials ready during the remodel to build buzz. We hit these holiday events with themed nibbles and cocktails with strong socials. I’ve got the QR codes, TikToks ready to go. That’s a soft opening, and it would bring in revenue without the overhead of the serving staff I’m hiring.”

Rebekah made sense—he hated that!—and that’s why he’d hired her as a sous chef years ago and kept her on, moved her up, and offered her a stake in The Wild Side. She was the manager and had wanted to take on the marketing.

“What’s up, Rustin?” her voice softened. “You’re dithering, and it’s freaking me out.”

“Dithering? What kind of a word is that? “I don’tdither.”

“You are. This is our shot. Your fears are going to screw this up for all of us. The Wild Side is not just about you.” She swore, tugged angrily at her blonde ponytail, and stomped out of the kitchen. He heard the rip of paper. Rebekah must have opened one of the back doors to the deck.

It’s not like they hadn’t argued before. She gave as good as she got and had no trouble getting in his face when she thought he was wrong, but she didn’t do it in front of the crew, and she’d never walked away.

The silence was louder than Rebekah’s accusation. He wasn’t afraid. He was just being cautious.

Yeah. And acting out of character.

His mouth felt sour. He turned his attention back to the kitchen crew. Lucas had turned the heat down on the stove, likely to better take in the kitchen drama.

“Plate the food like the diagram.” He ran his fingers through his hair, pulled out his elastic and let it roll over his wrist. “We’ll sample at the community table.”

“Want me to talk to Rebekah, Chef?” Hannah asked.

“You got a cocktail specialty sample?” he asked Clara, ignoring Hannah. He’d deal with Rebekah. He just wasn’t sure what to say because she was right.

He was playing it too safe. Would he blow his opportunity?

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