29. Winnifred
I pushed the cutting board aside and reached for the final round of strawberries. The air, or lack thereof in Crew’s enclosed truck, was already thick with sizzling anticipation, and every nerve in my body buzzed with the thrill of what was coming. Behind me, Crew was organizing his sauces, muttering under his breath about exactly where each bottle should go and what he needed and when.
I’d never seen him so worked up, so organized. He’d made labels at my apartment late last night just in case one of us accidentally grabbed the wrong thing in the rush that was this morning. It was extremely cute to witness. I was bundled up in my orange plaid throw blanket, sitting on my living room floor as he triple checked his ingredient list being ready. He worked until we both passed out on the floor. When I woke up this morning though we were on my floor mattress, his left arm supporting my neck, his right one curled around my abdomen, keeping me close. We both slept in far too late.
Don’t get me wrong, I had my nerves too. After all, we’d worked for this for weeks, but at least now I knew that even if we lost we would still be winning in a way. Because I had Crew right by me at the end of this: no matter the results.
Just as I finished slicing the last strawberry in what was allowed for our ‘prep’ time, I felt his hand brush against mine as he passed, close enough that I caught that familiar woodsy scent I’d come to crave. I turned, and before he could go back to what he was doing, I’d leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. His chuckle was warm and proud and when he tilted his head to return the favor on my own cheek, the tiny bit of stubble he’d been growing scratched against my jaw and I was living for it. He looked rough and tough and yet inside there was my little Crew. The one with the fake mustaches and the Hawaiian shirts and so many mismatches socks.
Ever since we left the field, we’d hardly kept our hands, our mouths, away from each other. Thankfully, we’d done enough practice for today that each of our movements were second nature. If we’d waited till the week of two prep then we would have been screwed, considering my hands were on his shoulders and his were on my waist far more than they were ever in the kitchen.
“Whatever happens…” I said softly, more to myself than to him, “we’ll figure it out. Together.”
He grinned, that easy smile that had slowly snuck its way into my heart. That I once found menacing and now knew it was the one he had just for me. “Together,” he echoed, giving my hand a gentle squeeze.
We were both smiling as we straightened up, getting ready to face the crowd. We only had five more minutes left until the competition officially began.
Essentially, our rules for the morning were to serve an original entree and dessert to forty guests in an hour. Everything had to be made to order, meaning if someone ordered a carne asada taco with no onions, Crew would have to change the original recipe to fit them best. So on and so forth. Then, once everyone was served, the people would vote for their favorites and that was that. Points would be deducted if we missed any people in the sixty minute mark.
It didn’t seem hard really, considering Crew and I had both served this many people in an hour before. But the pressure was on us to not only have great timing but impeccable service and quality too.
The biggest problem we hadn’t considered was that we didn’t have someone to take orders, something that suddenly crossed our minds when we realized every truck around us brought an extra volunteer. But, considering my tartlets were finished and all we had to do was fill them and do a garnish, I volunteered to take on the role of taking order and doing desserts. Crew argued but we both knew his job was far more straining than mine, so eventually, with a lot of pleading and promising for our time alone later, he agreed.
Outside the window you could hear the crowd around us, people chanting for their favorite food trucks, all forty judges waiting behind the starting line five trucks down from us. “Sounds like there’s a lot of them.”
“At least we only have to serve forty.”
“Still, it sound like there’s way more than-” I paused, because that was when I heard it. Cheering, louder than it had been this entire time. And… was that singing?
I raised a brow at Crew and he shrugged his shoulders with a confused frown.
Crew lifted the roll up window and looked out before immediately bursting into laughter and turning his back to the window to wipe his eyes with the bottom of his shirt. A smile on my face already, I turned and almost busted out in tears at the sight.
Standing just in front of Crew’s truck, right behind the line where the judges were supposed to come by, was the most outrageous cheering squad I’d ever seen. His siblings, all five of them, and their spouses, were all lined up in bright pink Hawaiian shirts with Crew’s face plastered all over them.
With a very pregnant Marigold and Calla waving absurdly large homemade banners that said, “THAT’S OUR CREW!” and “MY brOTHER IS THE BEST!” they were practically bouncing, shouting his name with ecstatic energy. Liam, Luke, Nathan, and even Adam, all were standing there in their pink shirts cheering him on. Rachel had even put on the fake mustache for him.
My smile turned into a guffaw when I saw Crew’s mom and dad directly behind them with air horns. I knew they were all coming, Calla had texted me this morning asking where everything was at and the best place to park. I didn’t mention it to Crew because I didn’t want him any more nervous than he already was. But, judging by his howling laughter bouncing off the truck, I had a feeling any nerves left went right out of that window.
Crew and I both took off our aprons and ran out to the parking lot, noticing the time. Only three minutes left, but we both knew we couldn’t not see them.
Crew ran to them with open arms, trying to practically jump over the caution: delicious food past this line tape. His siblings formed a semi-circle around them, each taking their turns pulling him in tight.
“We’re sorry,” Layla gave his shoulder a squeeze. “You’re more incredible than we’ve ever given you credit for, Crew. And we’re here, now. All of us.”
The rest nodded along, each taking a turn to whisper something low in his ears and by the time they wrapped him in one more big, Wells family hug, Crew’s cheeks were damp with tears. Mine were far from dry just watching the whole thing.
Crew’s mom shot at me and mouth ‘thank you’, which I returned right back.
People were gathering, the chamber of commerce employees all taking their places by the ‘starting line’. I tapped Crew on the shoulder, “Hate to break this up, but we’ve really got to go.”
“Right.” He turned back to his siblings, “We’ll see you guys after?”
They all excitedly nodded, except for Calla who shouted at him to ‘save us the leftovers’.
Crew’s hand reached down for mine, our fingers laced together, and we rushed back to our truck. Just as we were almost there, a low voice rumbled behind us.
“Wait,” we turned and Adam was holding a tattooed arm out to us. “You guys need someone to take orders, right?”
I turned to Crew, watching him stare back at his oldest brother with this look full of gratitude but something else too. Something only the two of them understood. The oldest and the youngest Wells siblings, staring back and forth at each other having an entire conversation where no words were said.
It was Adam’s way of making it up to him, as if seeing him a bright pink Hawaiian shirt wasn’t enough.
“Yeah,” Crew nodded and turned to me to confirm. My smile must have said everything because he turned back to his brother and stuck a hand out. “Come on in.”
We cooked for the next hour, Adam behind us taking order with his sleeves rolled up, tattoos on display and if nothing else: between his and Crew’s genetically good looks, we had at least all of the women’s votes in our favor. Probably most of the men’s too.
Crew and I moved in sync with every plate that left our truck, every taco and tartlet order filled with a side of nerves and excitement. From time to time we caught each other’s eyes, him winking at me as his forearms flexed with his hands wrapped around the handle of his stainless steel pans. He had never looked hotter. Which was saying a lot considering I saw him shirtless on a far with a cowboy hat hanging low over those dark messy strands of hair.
By the time we served the last customer, my arms were sore, but the adrenaline was still running strong.
Crew gave Adam a slap on the back and a big thank you before turning to me.
“Winnie girl,” he grinned, wolfish trouble.
I smiled and purred right back. “Crew.”
“You come here to me,” his chin jerked up with his arms stretched out and with us both covered in any of the food we hadn’t served, including a smear of avocado across his neck, I jumped into his embrace.
Crew planted strings of kisses around my forehead, down my cheeks to my jaw and then my lips. His hands wrapped around my waist, where they always stayed. It was hardly my own skin, but all of his now. He kissed me like no one was watching, and considering I heard the door slam two second after with Adam’s absence.
His lips pressed to mine, two puzzle pieces sliding together, until I didn’t know where he ended and I began. He tasted like mint, the gum he’d been anxiously chewing all day, mixed with the strawberries I’d slowly been sneaking ever since we got here.
Once all judges had ate, we all sat with his siblings at the nearby fold out tables. Crew’s hands never left mine, even as other food truck owners came to introduce themselves, and especially when creepy Craig kept circling by us asking how we were feeling.
As soon as he left, for the third time, Crew bent down to my ear and murmured, “I’d feel a lot better if he’d quit checking my girlfriend out.”
I smiled, loving hearing girlfriend leave his mouth, entirely for real this time. “I’d feel a lot better if we got this over with and I could get you home to-”
My words were cut off by a microphone screeching. “Excuse me everyone, the votes are in and we officially have a winner.”
The crowd cheered, Crew’s mom and dad both blowing their airhorns directly behind us. Crew shoved his earplugs in a little further with a smile.
“Please, don’t make us confiscate them again.” The female announcer glared at our crowd and both of his parents slowly lower the air horns to below the table.
“The winner, of the Philly Food Truck Competition is…”
Crew’s hand squeezed mine, I turned my head to him to see he was already looking at me. As if that giant check and that big trophy meant absolutely nothing to him now. I knew, because it was the same for me. Because the thought of winning now, after already winning so much before, felt abysmal.
“Brunch On Wheels!” They announced and simultaneously, Crew and I felt both of our shoulders sag in relief. I think we’d both put so much into this completion and if we had won, maybe I would have wondered if what we had was only because of that. Because a trophy and a check with three zeroes at the end.
Because from here on out, I wanted no chances of there being a reason for either of us to doubt. And we had that now.
A single mom and her fourteen year old daughter in matching baby blue t-shirts with waffle son them, ugly crying and snot dripping, ran to the front to claim their prize. I’d seen them setting up before, seen the way they smiled at each other. And if we weren’t going to win, I was entirely grateful that they were.
“Sorry guys.” Nathan slapped Crew on the back. “To be fair, I think it was rigged.”
“Yeah, I mean anyone whose tried either of your foods knows that you guys are the best.” Rachel added on top.
And, despite all of their sympathetic frowns around us, I simply couldn’t stop smiling. We may have to work here for a few more months, save up some extra cash between us to pay of the apartment, but that just meant more time for us. We weren’t in a rush anymore. We had everything we needed. And when the time came for us to be ready, Willow Creek would still be there waiting for us.
“Actually,” Crew lifted my hands to his lips, pressing a light kiss to my knuckles. “I think we did win.”
Calla faked a gag and Nathan chuckled before elbowing his wife, I turned to Crew with a grin. “So, what now, Chef?”
He pulled me close, shaking his head and leaning down to kiss along my jaw. “Let’s go grab my cowboy hat. We got horses to save.”
I laughed. “I really regret telling you that I found it cute.”
“I know you do, honey,” He teased back, giving my hand a squeeze. And with that, we walked off, together, into whatever was coming next.