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“How about Hot Pants or Sizzling Pants?” Summer suggested.
“Gossip Pants,” Brock said in a teasing tone. “Or maybe Mama Pants?”
Marlene snorted. “Sizzling Pants.” She bumped Brock playfully with her hip. “Because I still got plenty o’ sizzle, young man.”
He chuckled. “You sure do.”
Katie reappeared, holding a pair of small whiteboards that she and Terri had used to keep track of the orders.
One board listed the salads and the other board the entrées, with a running total of orders next to each item. They had agreed in advance that the house salad and the desserts wouldn’t be counted in the tally for most popular dish.
Holding the whiteboards carefully turned away from the dining room and angling them to hide the contents from Brock and Summer, Katie moved to stand next to Autumn.
Autumn raised her hand for silence, and the competing chants died away. “Now it’s time to find out whose cuisine has reigned supreme in our culinary battle at The Yummy Cowboy Diner. Will it be our very own celebrity chef Summer Snowberry, owner of the renowned SummerTime restaurant in San Francisco—”
Cheers and whoops erupted from the Snowberry family contingent. She paused until they fell silent, then continued, “—or hometown favorite Brock Michaels?”
More applause, with piercing wolf whistles from Jason and Evie.
Brock held his breath.
But Autumn knew how to draw out the anticipation. “But before we reveal the winners, why don’t Brock and Summer tell us which dishes belong to them? Brock, you first.”
“I, uh…”Fuck. He hated being put on the spot like this! “Caesar salad, bison meatloaf, and the fried chicken.”
Summer removed her arm from Brock’s waist and stepped forward. Looking poised and confident, she said, “YC Salad, seared bison filet, and the soy-glazed halibut.”
As if everyone here hadn’t already guessed which dishes were hers!
“You go, baby girl!” Priscilla shouted, and everyone laughed while Summer turned beet red.
“Thanks a lot, Mom,” she muttered, retreating. Brock couldn’t suppress his smirk.
“Katie, show us the salad board!” Autumn ordered, smiling widely.
Kate struck a Vanna White pose, slowly lifting and turning the board to show it to the dining room. Brock craned his neck, but couldn’t read it from where he stood.
“And the winner in the salad category is… the YC salad, everyone!” Autumn declared. “Edging out the Caesar salad by only three points.”
Summer whooped. Grinning, she pumped her fist in the air. “Yes!”
Brock’s heart sank as she reached across him to high-five Marlene. He’d beenpositivethat the diner’s beloved Caesar would triumph over a concoction made with ingredients like goat cheese and peach jam!
Not wanting to look like a sore loser, he forced himself to smile and high-five Summer in turn.
At least three points aren’t an insurmountable lead, he told himself. If his entrées won, then the salad loss wouldn’t mean losing the contest.
“Now, on to the entrées. Remember, the chef with the highest number of total orders this evening wins.”
With agonizing slowness, and clearly playing to the crowd, Katie lifted and rotated the second whiteboard.
“In first place, with thirty-three orders… the bison filet!” Autumn announced. “In second place, the bison meatloaf! And tied for third place, the fried chicken and the halibut.”
Brock stared in disbelief at the totals written on the whiteboard.That can’t be right!
“Ladies and gentlemen, it was a close race, but tonight’s winner is Summer Snowberry! Summer, would you like to say a few words?”
Everyone clapped and cheered as Brock gritted his teeth and tried to keep smiling.
