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“You were out late,” Amy noted. “Drinking and schmoozing with Royal’s elite, no doubt.”
“Yes. I got home very late and I had several martinis. So you’ll have to excuse me if I’m not leaping for joy this morning. I’m exhausted, I have a headache and my feet still hurt from the ridiculous heels that woman picked out for me. I should’ve just worn my Converse under the dress. No one would’ve seen them but me.”
“Well, even hungover you still look amazing,” her friend told her. “That makeover they gave you was something else. If it wasn’t for that early-morning sneer I recognize, I couldn’t be certain it was really you.”
It was too early and Lauren was too tired to be flattered by Amy’s backward compliment. “Very funny. I suppose I do clean up alright, but looking hot doesn’t do me any good when it comes to being a chef.”
“I don’t know about that. I’d say you’re hot enough to get a Food Network show, now.”
Lauren perked up in her seat at the ridiculous statement. “A TV show? I can’t even get the capital raised for a restaurant. No network executive is going to be interested in giving me a television platform.”
“Not with that frown. But you should’ve hit up some of those people at the party last night to see if they wanted to invest.” Amy slapped down the Sunday paper onto the stainless steel counter with a chuckle. “It seems like it was quite the shindig. They raised a fortune for the Wingate Charity. Those rich folks know how to party. And write checks. You should’ve held your hand out.”
Lauren reached for the paper and scanned the article on the front page about the masquerade ball. Most of it was about the charity and the good works they were planning with the funds raised at the event. The photo above the fold was of the event coordinator, Beth Wingate, and a man in a familiar wolf mask identified by the article’s author as her brother and the CEO of Wingate Enterprises, Sebastian Wingate.
The information hit her gut with a dull thud that threatened to send her coffee back up. She’d thought she might never know the identity of the man she’d been with last night. And had figured that perhaps it was better that way. After all, last night was a moment in time between two people that could never be replicated. Trying to would only ruin the memory of what they’d shared.
And yet, now that she’d looked down at the name in black-and-white print, she couldn’t ignore what she’d seen. The genie wouldn’t go back into the bottle once it was out. Her mysterious lover was none other than the man at the center of all the town drama lately. Lauren didn’t know much about the Wingates and couldn’t pick them out of a lineup if her life depended on it, but she’d heard the name more than a few times recently. The family had been accused of drug smuggling and other ugly things and the whole town was buzzing about it.
No wonder her mystery man had looked so irritated on the phone when she’d first laid eyes on him.
That was just Lauren’s luck. She has a whirlwind romance with a rich, successful guy and it turns out that he’s really broke and on his way to federal prison. She should’ve taken the hint when her suitor was wearing a wolf’s mask. No good could come from that. Every fairy tale proved that much.
“So tell me everything,” Amy pressed.
“I’d rather hear about how things went with the trucks last night.” Lauren had left her two precious Street Eats food trucks in her trusted employee’s hands on the busiest night of the week. That was a far more important topic to discuss.
“Well, Javier’s truck got robbed at gunpoint and my undercooked shrimp gave ten people food poisoning, but I think it went well enough, all things considered.”
Lauren looked at her friend and the deadly serious expression on her face. She knew it meant nothing—Amy was notorious for messing with her. “Seriously. Come on, now.”
“Everything went fine.” Amy relented with a heavy sigh. “The biggest drama of the night was running out of chicken kebabs pretty early. Other than that, things went smoothly and Javier made the nightly deposit, no problems. Now, tell me about this fancy shindig. I’m dying to know how it went for you.”
“We’re not here to gossip. We’re here to head over to the farmers market to get fresh produce for this afternoon’s menu.”
The other woman just shrugged. “There’s no rule that says you can’t spill your guts while we peruse the day’s vegetables. Come on, I entered you in that contest. No fair to go and not share every delicious detail with me.”
“You should’ve come as my plus-one if you were so interested,” Lauren said as she picked up her coffee and shopping list. She stopped by the door to grab her foldable handcart so she could haul back vegetables.
“Someone had to run the trucks,” Amy sassed from over her shoulder. “And besides that, no one has ever gotten into the good kind of trouble with their friend clinging on.”
They climbed out of the food truck and Lauren slammed and locked the door behind them. “Whatever,” she muttered, turning in the dire
ction of the farmers market and pointedly ignoring that Amy had been absolutely right in her assessment.
“Whatever? That’s all I get?” Amy kept her pace at Lauren’s side, her long, blond ponytail swinging in the breeze as they walked. “You know I’m not letting this go, right?”
“Have you ever?”
“No,” Amy quipped.
That was about right. Amy was a dog with a bone and she always seemed to think she knew what was right for Lauren. She stayed out of the business affairs and let Lauren take full rein over the menu, but when it came to her personal life, her best friend had a lot to say about it.
Thankfully, the farmers market was busy and loud. “When we’re done,” she promised. “I’m not talking about it here. Pick out a nice crate of sweet potatoes and a couple bushels of tomatoes and onions. I’m going to get broccoli, cauliflower and check out the apples.”
They met up about fifteen minutes later near the booth of one of the local ranchers. They usually had a nice selection of locally raised, harvested and smoked meats, and today was no exception. Lauren got a dozen eggs, a large pork shoulder, chicken breasts and some nice, thick-cut bacon.
“What’s on the menu for today?” Amy asked as they hauled their wares back to the trucks.
