She put her phone on speaker so Hunter could hear.
Hunter grinned but still seemed a little perplexed.
Zoey explained. “Actually, I’m brokering a deal with Hunter Westbrook for his tractor, but he’ll only take payment in the form of lemon bars,” she said. “But not store-bought lemon bars. Good ones. Amazing ones. Ones that I’m positive only you—out of all the bakers in Harvest Ranch—could make.”
Hunter’s brows shot up at her blatant flattery.
“I do make excellent lemon bars,” Cash confessed.
“I had a feeling you did.” She suppressed a chuckle. “Don’t suppose you could whip some up by noon? I’d be happy to do something for you in exchange.”
“Hmmm, I’m supposed to judge a clambake at the fair from eleven to noon.” Cash did not sound excited about that.
“Don’t like clambakes?”
Cash sighed. “Not in Harvest Ranch, I don’t. All the aunts—”
Zoey furrowed her brows and glanced at Hunter. “The aunts?” she whispered.
Hunter stepped forward. “Women in town over fifty,” he supplied helpfully.
“—have this notion that my clam dish from my restaurant Oyster and Lime is based off their personal dishes.”
Hunter jumped in. “People do like clams around these parts.”
Ew.
Hunter waggled his brows.
“There are fifty entries,” Cash said, sounding miserable.
Zoey tapped her lips with her pointer finger. Hunter’s gaze fell to her mouth, and she quickly dropped her hand and turned, kicking a clump of hay that’d stuck to her boot across the room. “Okay, so if I find someone to cover for you, will you make me lemon bars?” she asked Cash.
“Zoey, if you find someone to cover for me, I’ll make you lemon bars every week for the next month,” Cash said.
“I’ll call you back in a minute, Cash.” She hung up and dialed.
“Who you callin’ now?” Hunter asked. He leaned back against one of the stalls, resting his arms on the barrier between them, and crossed one leg over the other. Settling in to watch was what he was doing. All he needed was a bag of candied walnuts.
Brandon didn’t answer, so she called Allie.
Allie answered right away. “What’s up, babe?”
“I need help,” Zoey said.
“Is everything okay?” Allie rushed to ask.
“Oh yeah, I’m fine. I need a favor. I just called Brandon, but he didn’t answer his phone,” she said.
“He always puts his phone on silent when he’s helping Jo and me. He ran to the shop to grab more of our Royal Jelly Face Cream. It’s selling like hotcakes,” Allie said, wicked enthusiasm in her tone. “Is there anything I can help you with?”
Zoey explained.
“So you need someone to judge the clambake?” Allie asked.
“That’s the sum of it.”
“I’d love to help, but Jo and I are slammed, and to top it off, our model for this afternoon’s makeover just canceled.” She chuckled. “In fact, I’m thinking of making Brandon take her place. Better than Mrs. Lindgren, who offered earlier this morning.”
