Olivia texted back right away.
I like it.
Like what?
He’s making you sweat.
William returned with a tray of food before she could come up with a witty retort. “If you don’t fall madly in love with this sandwich, then I’m afraid we can’t be friends.”
“Teammates,” Marissa corrected him.
“Ouch.” He winced. “And here I thought we were getting along.”
“We are, asteammates.” Marissa took the plate from him. In addition to the pulled pork sandwich, he had gotten her a side of beans, coleslaw, potato salad, a bottle of water, and a chocolate chip cookie. “Thank you for lunch.” She didn’t want to sound ungrateful, but the flirting had to stop. It wasn’t going anywhere and it was only serving to distract her.
“My pleasure.” He looked at her expectantly while she took a bite. “You’re going to love it. I know it.”
He wasn’t wrong. The pork was tangy and bright with a touch of heat that lingered on her palate and balanced perfectly with the cool, crisp coleslaw. “Damn, this is amazing. No wonder you’re hyping the truck,” Marissa said through a mouthful. “I didn’t realize I was so hungry.”
William smirked. “Untangling lights will do that to you. It’s exhausting—physically and emotionally.”
She smiled. “I’m surprised more teams haven’t shown up.”
He shrugged, watching her eat with a glint in his eyes. “The last time I checked the app, we were still in the top three. Not bad for a team of two, fueled only by food truck snacks and the pure passion to win.”
“Is that your way of saying we make a good team?” She scowled, taking another bite.
“I’m just saying, we’re not a bad duo, Grazing Table.”
“I wonder if the teams in front of us have already completed the challenge.” Marissa’s pulse jumped. She focused intently on her half-eaten sandwich, picturing, hoping he wouldn’t notice her cheeks warming. She pictured creating a new board for Yes, Cheese with brioche buns, pulled pork, and dipping sauces. Maybe a trio of pickle spears, brined veggies, and salty chips.
William did have good taste. Whenever she had a new eating experience, she tried to envision how to reimagine it in miniature form for Yes, Cheese. For the moment, the business consisted of arranging food. Still, her ultimate goal was todo more actual cooking and baking; however, that required commercial kitchen space and a different food license—one step at a time.
“I wondered that, too.” William scooped baked beans onto a spoon. “The organizers weren’t exaggerating when they said they were going all out for the tenth anniversary. They are making us work for that fifty k.”
“That’s fine. I’m not afraid of hard work. I’ll gladly put in more blood, sweat, and tears if we end up with the sledful of cash.”
William took a drink, eyeing her thoughtfully. “Tell me more about Yes, Cheese.”
“What do you want to know?” She felt an unexpected flutter in her chest.
“Who’s your dream client? What’s your long-term vision? I want to know everything,” he said seriously, propping his elbows on the table and leaning in.
Marissa found herself telling William about her ideas for a commercial kitchen and how she had even dreamed about the possibility of a summer food cart, where she could offer picnic-style boards at outdoor concerts and music fests. “For that, I would need to hire staff, so that’s way out in the future.”
“Why?”
“Money, for one. I’m trying to build my base right now.”
“How many clients a week do you need to cover your overhead?” His gaze drifted upward like he was doing calculations in his head.
“It depends on the gig.” Marissa had eaten half her sandwich and polished off her sides.
“Ballpark.”
“If we’re talking bigger events, like your parents’ party, ideally one a week, along with three or four small catering jobs, would probably do it.”
William scowled. “Is that just to break even and cover costs, though? You want to make an income, too, yeah?”
