From now on she vowed to stay on the ranch and order everything she needed from the internet.
“You bet I am,” Laney said.
“I’ll trade you for the sarsaparilla recipe.” At least Gina could do something with that.
“Not on your life, sugar.” Laney got to her feet. “I’ll put in your order.”
Gina deliberated on whether to cancel dinner and hightail it back to the log shack from hell. In the end, she decided she was too hungry to drive. Besides, the smell of fried chicken had hypnotized her.
While waiting, she took in the crowd. Definitely not a Saturday-night scene in Los Angeles. No designer clothes, just a lot of cowboy hats and boots. If she had to guess, the tourists up for a weekend in Gold Country were the diners in shorts and T-shirts.
Occasionally, a man in a chef’s jacket popped his head through the window separating the kitchen from the dining room to call something to Laney. He must’ve been Jimmy Ray.
Let’s see what you got, Jimmy.
If the food was as good as the sarsaparilla, the trip to town wouldn’t be a total loss. But Gina had her doubts.
Laney finally brought her meal, which was large enough to feed Los Angeles. At first, she thought she was getting special treatment because…uh, Gina DeRose. But it was the same portion size everyone else in the joint got.
“Enjoy,” Laney said. “You can leave the cake recipe with the check.”
“You’d really sell me out?” Gina had been observing Laney for most of the evening. She wasn’t the hard-ass she pretended to be. In fact, Gina could tell which diners were local and which were visiting based on who Laney hugged.
“Faster than a hot knife through butter.”
“Whatever.” Gina stifled an eye roll. She’d give her the damn recipe and leave out the two extra egg yolks she threw in to make the cake moister, like she’d done with everyone else.
“Jimmy Ray wants to know what you think.” Laney’s gaze dropped to the heaping plate of chicken and waffles and greens. “Holler when you’re done.”
As soon as Laney left, Gina layered her fork with a crispy piece of chicken and slice of fluffy sweet-potato waffle and took a bite, letting the flavors—sweet from the cane syrup and a little spicy from the Tabasco—meld on her tongue.
Holy mother of God, was it good. So good she wanted to cry. She dipped into the collard greens and closed her eyes to savor the salty, pungent flavor. Everything down to the bits of smoky bacon was sublime.
How the hell did she not know about this place?
She continued stuffing her face while searching Google on her phone with one finger. Besides a smattering of Yelp reviews, there was nothing about a coffee shop in Dry Creek, California. No writeups or reviews inZagat,Eater,TripAdvisor, Michelin Guide, or anything else.
Laney returned to find that Gina had cleaned her plate. “For a skinny girl, you sure can pack it away. I brought you a slice of my chess pie.”
“Laney, I don’t think I can eat another bite.”
“Just a little taste. You can bring the rest home with ya.” Laney put her hands on her hips and stayed rooted in her spot.
Nodidn’t appear to be an option.
Besides, Gina wanted to know if it was as good as everything else she’d eaten. She took a small bite, then another one, and before she knew it had devoured half the slice. Laney watched, a smug smile playing on her lips.
“Oh my God,” Gina said around another bite. “I’m going to explode, but can’t stop.” She pointed at the pie with her fork. “You guys should wholesale this.”
Laney grabbed Gina’s arm. “Tell that to Jimmy Ray.” She dragged Gina through the dining room.
Jimmy Ray was holding down the line by himself.
“Come meet Gina DeRose,” Laney said to him and Gina shushed her again. “No one can hear us out there.”
Jimmy Ray dropped a few battered chicken pieces into a skillet, took off his plastic gloves, and shook Gina’s hand. “Pleased to meet you. How was your supper?”
“So good that I think you guys should franchise.”
