“You think I’d miss your big debut?” He pushed off the truck, closing the distance between them. “Lincoln is covering in the shop for me—I’m assuming he’ll run all customers out of town, but they’ll eventually be back. So I drove straight here.”
Joy’s throat tightened. “You drove all the way to Reddington City?”
“I’d have driven twice as far.” His eyes swept over the truck. “This looks amazing, Bug. And judging by that line forming again, people agree.”
She followed his gaze to see that, indeed, customers were lining up once more. But what struck her wasn’t just the number of people—it was their expressions. They were excited, taking photos of the truck, pointing at the display cases.
“Did you see the woman at the corner table?” Bear nodded toward a stylishly dressed woman who was photographing her plate from multiple angles. “Pretty sure she’s that food blogger everyone follows. What’s the name?Taste of Teton?”
“Teton Tastes,” Joy corrected automatically, her pulse quickening.Teton Tasteshad over one hundred thousand followers and was known for launching new restaurants and trucks into instant popularity with a single positive review.
A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Maybe this isn’t a complete disaster after all.”
“Not even close to a disaster.” Bear’s hand found hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You’re killing it, Davis.”
The reassurance in his voice, coupled with the visual evidence of people enjoying her food, helped steady her. Joy took a deep breath and squared her shoulders.
“Break’s over,” she said, reluctantly pulling her hand from his. “I’ve got a business to run.”
“Need an extra pair of hands?” Bear offered. “I make a mean cup of coffee.”
For a brief moment, Joy considered saying no. This was her venture, her dream. But hadn’t the whole point been learning to accept help when she needed it?
“Actually, yes,” she decided. “Amari’s a whiz at food prep, but she keeps pressing the wrong buttons on the espresso machine.”
Bear grinned, already rolling up his sleeves. “Point me to an apron.”
The rest of the afternoon flowed more smoothly with the three of them working in tandem. Bear handled beverages with surprising skill, Amari managed the register and basic food assembly, and Joy focused on the specialized dishes that required her expertise.
As the festival began winding down, the stylish woman Bear had pointed out approached the service window.
“Are you the owner?” she asked, directing her question to Joy.
“I am. Joy Davis.”
“Madeline Chen.” The woman extended her hand. “Teton Tastes.”
Joy’s fingers were sticky with berry juice, but she wiped them quickly on her apron before shaking Madeline’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“The pleasure is mine. Your lavender-vanilla latte and lemon-blueberry tartlet were exceptional.” Madeline pulled out a business card. “I’d love to feature you on my blog. This concept—upscale brunch in a food truck—it’s refreshing. Especially with this aesthetic.” She gestured to the truck’s elegant design. “It stands out. Unapologetically feminine.”
Joy accepted the card, trying to keep her expression professional despite the excitement bubbling inside her. “Thank you. That would be wonderful.”
“Expect a call from me next week.” With a satisfied nod, Madeline melted back into the crowd.
Amari squealed the moment Madeline was out of earshot. “Did that just happen? Did THETeton Tastesjust say she’s featuring your truck?”
Joy nodded, still processing. “I think she did.”
Bear winked at her from the espresso machine. “Told you. Killing it.”
By closing time, they’d sold out of nearly everything. The tip jar overflowed with cash and positive comments scribbled on napkins. As the festival officially ended and the last customers drifted away, Joy found herself standing in the middle of her truck, surrounded by empty display cases and used equipment, feeling a strange mixture of exhaustion and elation.
“We did it,” she said, more to herself than to Amari or Bear. “We actually pulled it off.”
“Never doubted you for a second,” Bear replied, wiping down the counter.
Amari yawned, stretching her arms overhead. “As your unofficial sous chef, I declare this a success. But also, I’m dead on my feet.”
