Page 37 of Bikers & Bars

Our conversation slowed as dish after dish was dropped on the table. He put an empty plate in front of each of us and the moment Valentina said we were good, she was shoveling food on her plate.

“Dig in, this will have us both rolling ourselves out of here,” she promised. I’d gotten a few bites in before she was slowing down and eyeing me again.

I guess it was time for phase two of this conversation.

“Now, what do you want to do with your life? I’m guessing bartending is not end game for you,” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Asking all the hard questions, aren’t you?” I laughed humorlessly. She was hitting my insecurities right on the head. Because I’d thought about this, too. The guys had their club, Romeo his mechanic work, and I had… just bartending right now.

“I am, because someone needs to,” she countered as she popped another bite into her mouth and groaned in appreciation. “You’re definitely the ‘take care of others andforget about myself’ type so someone needs to stop you and force you to think about you for once.”

“I’m trying,” I admitted. “But the only dream I ever had seems so silly now.”

“Oh girl, now I’m already invested. Spill the tea,” she demanded with a cackle.

“Okay, don’t laugh,” I groaned. “But when I was younger there was this amazing food truck that came through town. The old woman running it was hilarious and joyful, and ever since then I wanted to do that someday. Maybe not selling pie on a stick, but the concept of running my own business, doing what I wanted, and spending my days making delicious treats.”

“How is that silly?” Valentina demanded. If she’d been standing I knew I’d get the full brunt of her sassiness, hands on hip and all. Now I just got her ‘try me’ stare.

“A food truck? Where would I even find one?” I laughed but she was shoving her plate away and whipping out her phone.

“Bet,” she muttered as she started typing furiously and ignoring my questions. When a wide grin spread across her face I knew I was in trouble.

“Valentina… what did you just do?”

“Nothing,” she said as she called out for the waiter to pack up our leftovers. A team of workers came over and bagged everything up before carrying it out to her car for us. She paid and individually tipped the staff members before sweeping me out and into the car.

“What is happening?” I asked with a laugh. Her spontaneity was always impressive and a bit unsettling.

“You’re going to march back into that compound and quit that job,” she said firmly. “Your food truck comes tomorrow. For the next few months, you’ll be planning a menu, designing business cards and signs, and getting it ready. Your men willhelp you. You’ve got mechanics and men who are familiar with vehicles.”

“I don’t need to quit,” I protested. “And you can’t buy someone a food truck! I can’t afford it.”

“Too late,” she laughed. “I’m your silent partner. Investing is such a smart thing and I don’t require revenue in return other than free food. Plus, you can park outside of the Happy Herb.”

“No, this is too much,” I gasped, my heart pounding at the insane turn my day had taken.

“You’re worth it, and I get free food, it’s a win-win,” she grinned. “Feel free to run anything by me and let me help with finding vendors, you know we have connections everywhere and you can trust they won’t fuck you over.”

“I don’t know what to say,” I said as I let out a long breath. “Thank you, Valentina.”

“Good girl, because once I decide on something, there’s no looking back.”

She left me to my thoughts until we’d pulled back up to the compound. Before she let me climb out she put her hand on my arm.

“Go in there and tell your boy toys that you quit. You’re now an entrepreneur and have to make the plans. Send me what you need and I’ll be purchasing it.”

“I’m paying you back out of my profits,” I challenged. “And taking over costs the moment I’m able.”

“Don’t insult me and pay me back. Taking over is acceptable,” she negotiated. “Free food, remember?”

“You don’t even know what we’re serving yet,” I pointed out but she just patted her stomach and laughed.

“I don’t need to. I’ll want it,” she promised before shooing me out. “Go, tell them you quit, make your plans, keep me posted.”

I was officially dismissed. My mind was racing as I got out but my face was split into a wide grin.

She was right, I needed to let all that out. There was no timeframe or guarantee I couldn’t change my mind about kids.

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