With only fifteen minutes remaining in the lunch hour break, and after selling only a dozen wraps, Lacy got an idea. She made a cell phone call to Zack, who’d gone back inside the office.
“Mr. Gardner, is it okay if I take some wrap samples to the guys out on the construction site?”
“I don’t see why not,” he said, after a second of silence. Construction had stopped. “Just watch out for nails and…”
“I will. Promise. Thanks!” She hustled to make two of each wrap on her menu, then cut them all into four pieces. With Emma sticking around like she was on the clock, Lacy grabbed two trays and, after covering them with a paper liner, put half of the sandwiches on each of the trays.
“Emma, can you carry one of these trays for me?”
“Okay!” Bright-eyes was on it.
Lacy grabbed a stack of flyer-styled menus, stuffed them in her apron pocket and headed out the door. Since the crowd hadn’t come to her, she’d go to the crew.
With Emma grinning and playing the perfect hostess, offering samples to the men who worked for her father, and with Lacy playing backup, they passed out every single quarter-wrap. Who could possibly refuse? Better yet, the men seemed to like them. Really like them. So she got another idea.
“If you bring the flyer with you on Wednesday, and buy a wrap, I’ll throw in a free coffee and hand pie of your choice.”
A few of the men took the menus right off. As more of them ate the various wraps, another handful took flyers. The interested response was better than nothing.
Heading back to her truck to clean up and shut down, some of the men who’d returned from eating off-site followed her.
“I’ll take a flyer,” one of them said, then another and another.
“I’ve still got coffee if you’d like a cup.”
Half a dozen stuck around for that, and since they were hanging around, she gave them some of the leftover hand pies, of which there were many. The assorted pies clearly got their approval, and soon a few more guys wandered over. Who didn’t want a free dessert?
It hadn’t been a winning day, but at least she hadn’t fallen completely on her face.
When she was all set to leave, she thought she should take a walk to the office, to see if Zack even wanted her coming back on Wednesday.
Hating the insecurity that was strung around her like Christmas tree lights after New Year’s, she stepped inside, doing her best to hide her true mood. One of the guys Zack had bought lunch for looked up from his desk and smiled. “That was a great seafood wrap.”
“Oh, thank you. Glad you liked it. I, uh, was hoping to talk to Mr. Gardner?”
The mobile office was small, and she could see Zack’s modest room in the back corner. He knew she was there, and the guy in the front area didn’t have a chance to reply before Zack gestured for her to come over.
Not wanting to appear timid, she mustered what was left of her confidence, holding her head high before she stepped inside. Thankfully, she’d remembered to take off her toque and remove the hair net.
“So what do you think?” Zack started.
“Wasn’t a very good showing. I was hoping a lot more guys would try out the food.”
“We’ve been here a month now, and they’ve gotten used to their routines. I think you should give it another shot, that is if you think it’s worth your effort. Come back on Wednesday and Friday, too—if you don’t have a better place to park somewhere else?”
Sitting behind his desk, laptop open, looking so darn appealing and being about as considerate as a person could be, Zack said the words she’d hoped for. Come back. She fought the urge to rush to him and throw her arms around his neck. Pure fantasy, of course, since she’d never do that to a near stranger, no matter how wonderful they were. Especially if they might be married. And a potential work contract.
“I’ll be here.”
Emma showed up from another office. “I wish you could come tomorrow, too.”
“You’re such a sweetie.” It was easy, and felt natural to draw the child close to her waist and deliver a single-armed hug. What she couldn’t do to the father was safe to do to his kid. Emma seemed to really crave the attention, too. “You were a big help today.”
“That’s because I want to be a cook when I grow up.”
“You do? That’s great.”
“So, we’ll see you Wednesday, then?” Zack broke in. “Same time and place?”
She looked Zackery Gardner in the eyes, feeling a powerful surge of something run through her that had nothing to do with getting a second chance, and pretended to be cool as a seasoned cucumber in rice vinegar. Cool was necessary around such a man. Especially since he was a family man.
“You betcha.”
Wednesday, when she pulled her rig onto the construction site, she couldn’t help but notice someone had set out a bunch of overturned wooden crates. Had Zack done it for the men to sit on? If so, that was progress and a sign of good faith. She sure hoped she could fill those makeshift seats today.
Out the door ran Emma from the office and, following behind, Zack.
“Hi!” Emma said, looking as if she was bursting to tell Lacy something.
“Thought setting up some places for the men to sit might bring more guys over,” Zack explained as he made the last few steps to her truck.
“I can sure use the help and it’s certainly worth a try. Thank you.”
“Probably should’ve done it for Monday, but I think you’ll have a much better turnout today.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“Dad gave them a peck talk and said they should try your lunches.”
“Pep talk,” Zack corrected.
“You did?” Warmth started at Lacy’s neck and rose to her cheeks. He’d only do that if he wanted her to stick around.
He looked flustered and maybe a little irritated, thanks to Emma’s honesty. “Well, I have a bit of an ulterior motive.”
“Other than helping me sell food and keep this job?”
His appealing sun-tinged eyebrows tented, and his normally heavy lidded eyes narrowed the tiniest bit. “Well, yes.”
“Will you teach me to cook?”
Instead of snapping at Emma for letting the cat out of the bag, like some parents would, Zack tossed Lacy a hopeful look. “Emma really wants to learn how to cook, and…”
Who needed to think about such a sweet offer? “I’d love to.”
Emma clapped, then rushed to hug Lacy’s waist tight, just like the other day.
“Of course, I can’t exactly teach her how to cook here.” She used her hands to motion around the construction site and toward her truck under the trees.
“Right,” he said. “We were hoping you might be available Saturday afternoon?”
Saturday afternoon—wasn’t that a family kind of day? Where was his wife, and why wasn’t she teaching Emma to cook? Did he have one? A wife? No ring. Maybe for safety reasons, he left it off at work. But his daughter