Chapter 22
Joy wiped down the gleaming countertops of her food truck for the third time, more from nervous energy than actual need. The soft pink exterior of Velvet Mornings stood out in the early morning light, a stark contrast to the utilitarian vehicles parked nearby. Her truck wouldn’t be mistaken for any other—she’d made sure of that.
It was ready.
Now, all she had to do was find the guts to take it out into Oak Creek. Have some sort of soft launch so everyone could try it out.
Was she ready for that? She should be. This had been her dream for so long, and now all she had to do was drive it out and the dream could begin. She’d already even bought some ingredients.
But somehow she couldn’t seem to do it.
Her phone vibrated against the counter. She expected it to be Bear, but it was an unknown number.
“Hello?” Joy tucked the phone between her ear and shoulder as she wiped down a counter again.
“Is this Joy Davis?” The woman’s voice was brisk, professional.
“Yes, this is Joy.”
“I’m Melissa Winters, coordinator for the Reddington City Food Truck Festival. We’ve had a last-minute cancellation for today’s event. Your name was passed to me by one of our regular vendors who met you a few months ago. She thought your truck might be ready by now and able to fill in.”
Joy froze, her rag suspended midair. The Reddington City Food Truck Festival was the biggest culinary event in the region, drawing thousands of visitors and significant media coverage. Getting accepted typically required months of applications and waiting lists.
“Today?” she managed. “As in, right now, today?”
Melissa laughed. “Yes, as in four hours from now. I know it’s short notice, but these spots are nearly impossible to come by. We need an answer immediately if you’re interested.”
Joy’s mind raced. She wasn’t ready. A high-profile debut with regional exposure? The prep she’d done today wasn’t enough.
But she’d be a fool to miss this opportunity.
“Can I call you back in five minutes?” Joy asked.
“Three minutes,” Melissa countered. “I have other calls to make if you’re not available.”
The line went dead.
Joy stared at her phone, heart hammering against her ribs. This was simultaneously her biggest opportunity and her most terrifying nightmare. Without thinking, she pulled up Bear’s number and hit call.
He answered on the second ring. “Morning, beautiful.”
“Bear, I just got a call from the Reddington City Food Truck Festival. They want me there. Today.”
“Holy shit.” His voice dropped an octave, the way it did when he was genuinely surprised. “That’s huge, Bug.”
“I can’t do it. I’m not ready.”
“Whoa, slow down.” The background noise on his end shifted; she could picture him stepping outside the garage for privacy. “Tell me exactly what they said.”
Joy explained the call, words tumbling out in a rush as the seconds ticked away.
“You have to do it,” Bear said when she finished. No hesitation.
“What?”
“You’ve been working toward this forever. This is your shot.”
“But I’m not ready. I don’t have enough supplies. I don’t?—”
“Joy.” His voice was steady, solid like everything else about him. “Look around that truck. That beautiful truck you designed and built with your own hands. You’ve been ready for this. You just didn’t know it was coming today.”
She glanced around at the spotless equipment, the carefully curated aesthetic, the menu she’d been tweaking for months.
“You can do this,” Bear continued. “I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.”
The knot in her chest loosened, just slightly.
“Okay,” she breathed. “Okay. I’ve got to go. I’ll let them know I’ll do it.”
“That’s my girl.”
Three minutes and sixteen seconds after the first call, Joy called Melissa back and accepted the spot. By the time she hung up with all the details, the gravity of what she’d committed to was sinking in.
She needed help. Immediately .
Joy dialed Sloane next, practically vibrating with nervous energy as she waited for her friend to pick up.
“Hey,” Sloane answered, her voice rough with sleep. Shit, it was only seven in the morning, and Sloane had worked the closing shift at the Eagle’s Nest last night.
“Sorry to wake you. I need your help. Big-time.” Joy outlined the situation while simultaneously making lists in her head of what supplies she’d need to purchase before heading to Reddington City.
“I’ll be there in twenty,” Sloane said without hesitation. “Just let me throw on some clothes.”
Joy had already started reorganizing her prep station when her phone rang again fifteen minutes later. It was Callum.
God, she hoped this wasn’t about permits or something. Hers had been filed and accepted, but the physical copies hadn’t arrived yet.
But it was even worse.
“Joy, Sloane’s not going to be able to make it. She really wants to, but morning sickness clobbered her all last night and is still just as bad this morning.”
“Oh no.”
“I’m sending her back to bed. I can’t take a chance on her passing out trying to help you.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Joy’s voice was steadier than she felt. “Just get her to take care of herself and the baby.”
“Thank you for understanding.” Joy could hear the relief in Callum’s voice. “She feels terrible leaving you hanging.”
“Honestly, it’s fine.” It wasn’t, but Sloane didn’t need that guilt on top of feeling sick. “I’ll figure something out.”
After hanging up, she leaned against the counter, closing her eyes. The festival started in three hours and forty-two minutes. She needed at least an hour to drive there and set up. That left less than three hours to prep enough food for potentially hundreds of customers, not to mention figuring out how to run the truck alone when she’d been counting on having help.
“Maybe I should call Melissa back,” she muttered, reaching for her phone.
A sharp knock on the truck’s side door made her jump.
“Yo, bitch! You in there?”
Joy yanked open the door to find Amari standing there, grinning like she’d just pulled off the best surprise ever.
“Amari? What are you doing here?”
“Surprise visit! I managed to swap shifts so I could come home for a few days. I came looking for you at your house, then Bear’s garage, and he mentioned you were here.”
Amari peered past Joy into the truck. “Whoa. This is incredible. I can’t believe what you’ve done here. I thought I’d come see—” She paused, taking in Joy’s frazzled expression. “What’s wrong?”
Joy explained the situation in a breathless rush. Amari’s eyes widened, then narrowed with determination.
“I’m your girl,” she declared, already climbing into the truck. “What do you need me to do?”
“You don’t have to?—”
“Joy Davis, in the twenty years we’ve been best friends, how many times have you helped me? Remember when you stayed up all night to help me finish that science project I’d procrastinated on? Or when you covered for me when I missed curfew with Jason Peterson?” Amari rolled up her sleeves. “I’m a doctor. I can follow instructions. Put me to work.”
For the first time since Melissa’s call, Joy felt like she could breathe again. “Okay. I’ll need to make a supply run. Then we’ll need to prep enough food for at least three hundred people.”
“Let’s do this.” Amari’s confidence was infectious. “I can chop, mix, or whatever you need. It’ll be just like surgery. Tell me where to start.”
The next two hours passed in a blur of activity. Joy made a lightning-fast supply run while Amari began prepping what they already had. They worked in synchronized chaos, with Joy rattling off instructions and Amari executing them with surprising adeptness.
“For someone who cuts people open for a living, you’re pretty good with pastry,” Joy remarked, watching Amari delicately arrange berries on a tray of tartlets.
“Steady hands,” Amari replied with a wink. “Though I usually charge a lot more for them.”
By some miracle, they managed to load everything into the truck and hit the road with fifteen minutes to spare before they needed to arrive at the festival. Joy gripped the steering wheel, hyperaware of the precious cargo behind her—hundreds of perfectly crafted pastries, quiches, and breakfast sandwiches, along with gallons of specialty coffee and tea blends.
“I still can’t believe you changed from Tex-Mex to brunch,” Amari said as they drove, scanning the laminated menu card Joy had handed her. “Not that it isn’t amazing, but it’s so different from what I’d have expected from you.”
Joy kept her eyes on the road, but a small smile played at her lips. “That’s kind of the point.”
“What do you mean?”
“Everyone sees me one way—the reckless tomboy. And I am that person.” She paused, choosing her words carefully. “But I’m also the woman who appreciates beautiful things. Who wants to create an experience that feels special.”
Amari studied her friend’s profile. “I like that. That you’re showing a different side of yourself.”
“Bear gets it,” Joy said softly. “He saw the truck and immediately understood what I was trying to do.”
“Of course he did.” Amari grinned. “That man sees all of you, always has.”
They arrived at the festival grounds with just enough time to park in their designated spot and begin final preparations. The scale of the event was immediately intimidating—at least thirty food trucks were already set up, their owners bustling with the practiced efficiency of veterans. Colorful banners hung overhead, and a small stage had been constructed at the far end of the lot for live music.
Joy’s hands trembled slightly as she switched on the equipment. What had seemed doable back in Oak Creek now felt like an impossible challenge.
“Hey,” Amari said, noticing her hesitation. “We’ve got this.”
The first hurdle came minutes after they opened. The line formed immediately—far faster than Joy had anticipated—and she quickly realized their workflow needed adjustment. Amari was struggling to keep up with taking orders while Joy frantically plated food.
Then the espresso machine started making an ominous grinding noise.
“No, no, no,” Joy muttered, abandoning the breakfast sandwich she was assembling to check the machine. A quick inspection revealed a pressure issue—fixable, but not while maintaining their current pace.
“We need to pause new orders for ten minutes,” she told Amari, who was looking increasingly frazzled as the line continued to grow.
“Is everything okay?” a woman at the front of the line asked, concern evident in her expression.
“Just a small technical issue,” Joy explained, forcing a smile. “We’ll be back up in ten minutes.”
Some people left the line with barely concealed irritation. Joy felt her confidence wavering as she worked on the machine. This was exactly what she’d feared—not being prepared enough, letting people down, making a bad first impression.
“Almost done?” Amari asked, casting an anxious glance at the dwindling but still substantial line.
“Almost,” Joy confirmed, tightening the final valve, so thankful Bear had gone over the mechanical basics with her. When she started the machine again, it hummed perfectly. One crisis averted.
They reopened to a smaller but still impressive line. The next hour passed in controlled chaos, with Joy and Amari finding their rhythm. The initial hiccups faded as they settled into a workable system.
Until they ran out of strawberries.
“That’s all of them,” Amari announced, holding up an empty container. “And we’ve got at least fifteen orders that need them.”
Joy’s stomach dropped. The strawberry tartlets and strawberry-topped waffles were two of their most popular items. Running out now, barely halfway through the event, was a disaster.
“We’ll have to substitute,” she decided, already mentally reformulating the dishes. “Blueberries for the tartlets, mixed berry compote for the waffles.”
They managed the substitution with only minor delays, but Joy could feel the pressure building behind her eyes. This wasn’t how she’d imagined her debut. In her vision, everything ran smoothly, people were impressed, and she felt confident in her creation. Instead, she was scrambling, improvising, barely keeping ahead of the next potential disaster.
During a brief lull, Joy stepped outside for a moment, needing just thirty seconds of fresh air. The festival was in full swing now, crowds flowing between the trucks, music playing from the stage. Everyone seemed to be having a good time—everyone except her.
“This is a disaster,” she murmured to herself.
“Funny,” a familiar voice said behind her. “From where I’m standing, it looks like a success.”
Joy whirled around to find Bear leaning against the side of her truck, arms crossed over his chest, a small smile playing at his lips.
“Bear? What are you— How did you?—”
“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 Tastes had 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 THE Teton Tastes just 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.”
“Why don’t you take my truck and head back to Oak Creek?” Bear suggested, tossing Amari his keys. “I’ll finish helping here and catch a ride in the truck.”
Amari caught the keys with a grateful smile and turned to Joy. “You sure?”
“Absolutely. You saved my ass today. Go home, take a hot shower, crash in my guest room.”
After Amari left, Joy and Bear finished cleaning in comfortable silence. The festival grounds had emptied quickly, leaving just the food truck vendors packing up their equipment.
“I still can’t believe you drove all the way here,” Joy said, closing the refrigerator after a final wipe-down.
Bear shrugged. “I wanted to see you in your element.”
“And? What did you think?”
He crossed the small space to where she stood, backing her gently against the counter. “I think you’re incredible.” His hands settled on her waist. “I think this truck is incredible. And I think everyone who tried your food today walked away knowing they’d experienced something special.”
Joy’s breath caught in her throat. The way he was looking at her—like she was something precious, something to be amazed by—made her chest tight with emotion.
“Thank you for believing in me,” she whispered. “I couldn’t have done this without you pushing me to take the opportunity.”
“You would have gotten here eventually.” He traced the line of her jaw with his thumb. “I just helped speed up the timeline.”
She rose on her tiptoes, pressing her lips to his in a soft kiss. “Take me home, Bollinger.”
“Yes, ma’am.”