Page 28 of Jesse
“It’s a hundred degrees in this truck, Beck. And it’s only going to get hotter. You want me to keel over from heatstroke?” Jesse asked.
“At least throw a shirt over it,” I retorted, already digging through the small stash of clean clothes I kept in the back corner for emergencies.
I found a plain gray button-down shirt and tossed it at him.
“Here. Put this on,” I told him.
He caught the shirt easily and held it up. “What’s the big deal? It’s not like anyone cares.”
“It’s distracting,” I muttered, immediately regretting it as the words slipped out.
His head tilted, and a slow, mischievous grin spread across his face. He looked like a dog who’d just found a bone.
“Distracting, huh?” he drawled, stepping closer. “Is my skin distracting you, Beck?”
I scowled. “It’s unhygienic,” I said firmly, ignoring the flare of heat racing up my neck.
Jesse clutched his chest.
“Unhygienic? I’m cleaner than you, Mr. Checklist.” He lifted his arm, offering it up with an exaggerated flourish. “Here, take a whiff. Go on, tell me I don’t smell like a meadow after a spring rain.”
“Get away from me!” I laughed despite myself, shoving him back, though not hard enough to make him actually stop.
But he did smell good. Damn it, I’d noticed it before, but now it was undeniable, a mix of something woodsy and clean, like cedar and fresh linen.
I wasn’t sure if it was just the detergent on his clothes; it clung to him, lingering even after he walked away.
The scent stirred something deep inside me, something primal and restless. My wolf perked up, curious and alert every time I caught a whiff.
I had to fight the urge to lean closer, to inhale again. Was it his soap? His fabric softener?
Before my thoughts spiraled further, the bell by the front counter dinged loudly, jolting me back to reality.
“Am I the first customer? Do I win a prize?” Ethan’s familiar voice called out from the front, his head popping into view through the service window.
I stiffened, glancing at Jesse, who was still grinning like he’d won something. Turning to Ethan, I forced a smile. “No prizes. We’re not open yet.”
Ethan stepped closer, his eyes darting between Jesse and me. “Should I be worried about any food safety violations, though?”
My stomach sank. How much had he overheard?
“It’s all perfectly above board,” I said quickly, brushing imaginary crumbs off the counter.
Ethan chuckled, glancing at Jesse. “Uh-huh. Sure it is. Anyway, just wanted to check when you’re opening. Some of the other trucks look ready to go, and a few are already taking orders.”
Panic crept in as I tried to hold it together. I glanced around the truck. Most of the potatoes were still unpeeled, and some garnishes weren’t prepped. My heart rate spiked.
“We’re not ready. The potatoes need to be cooked and smashed, and?—”
Jesse cut in, his voice calm and steady. “I peeled some earlier. We can start with those.”
“But the potatoes are part of the brisket dish.Yourbrisket dish. People are expecting it!” I shot back, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on me. “You’re the one who insisted we use your recipe.”
Jesse shrugged, utterly unbothered. “We’ll push the other dishes for now. Let them wait a little for the brisket. It’ll be worth it.”
I stared at him, my panic battling with the small flicker of gratitude for his quick thinking.
Looking out the window, I saw Ethan talking to a growing crowd. He was probably assuring them we’d open soon.
