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“But I didn’t think you really meant it.” She spun in his arms so they were face-to-face. “I figured you were just trying to get in my pants.”
He laughed. “Don’t get me wrong,” he said when he recovered. “I’d like that very much.” He winked. “But I like you, Sparkles. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about—”
A loud, growling grumble interrupted them, and it was Georgia’s turn to laugh. She pulled away and wrapped her arms around her stomach. “Sorry,” she said. “I think I might be a little hungry.”
He waved his arm around the room at the baking they’d just finished, and she groaned. “No way. I mean, it’s delicious and all. But there are only so many cookies and buns one girl can handle.”
An idea popped into Scott’s head. “Come on.” He reached for her hand. “I have just the thing.”
* * *
GEORGIA
“You’re not really going to cook in there, are you?” Georgia crossed her arms over her chest and looked up at the food bus warily. It was bad enough to have the monstrosity broken down in front of her shop; she probably shouldn’t encourage him to actuallyuseit.
“That’s kind of the idea behind a food truck,” Scott said with a chuckle as he opened the back and hopped up inside it.
A moment later, the side of the bus opened with two folding doors exposing the inside and Scott, who had donned a bright-blue apron emblazoned with a caricature of him that matched the one splashed on the outside. And were thosesparkles?
“Is your apron bedazzled?”
Scott shrugged, and she laughed. “What can I say? I had some inspiration.”
The apron she’d worn at the Mountain Mania Bake-Off had been bedazzled by Lindsay’s little girl. But Georgia had to admit, the look worked much better on Scott. He looked damn good in that apron, no matter how ridiculous it was. In fact, he looked good enough that she was going to go against her better judgment and let him cook in that monstrosity that he was calling a food truck. Besides, shewashungry, and anything but her own baking sounded great.
“It’s going to take a few minutes to warm up the oven,” Scott said from inside the truck. “But not too long, don’t worry. Now,” his face appeared in the window again, “are you more in the mood for turkey or beef?”
“So you were serious when you said you made meat pies?”
He chuckled. “Did you think I was lying?”
Georgia looked up at the chalk menu board that hung over Scott’s head. There were at least six different kinds of meat pies listed, as well as a few varieties of the Canadian classic poutine. Her mouth watered at the idea of crisp French fries with gooey cheese curds melted under a generous serving of gravy.
“This all looks…”
“Pretty damn good, right?”
Unable to lie, she nodded.
“Give me one second,” Scott said. “I’m not going to make you choose.”
Scott disappeared into the truck and got to work while Georgia took the time to look around and stretch. She couldn’t remember the last time she took a minute to relax and look around Main Street.
It was late in the day, but there were still lots of people milling about the streets. Georgia couldn’t help but notice how much attention Scott’s truck was getting. Or maybe it was the delicious aroma that had already started to come from inside.
“A new business partner?” Hope Langdon and her husband Levi stopped on the sidewalk. “It smells amazing.”
“It really does,” Georgia admitted. “Scott’s from Cedar Springs. We met at Mountain Mania in the spring. This is his new…” She waved her arm toward the truck.
“Food truck,” Scott finished the sentence for her a second later when he popped his head out the window. “Hi,” he addressed Hope and Levi. “Can I get anyone a pie?”
“Absolutely.” Levi stepped up immediately and put in an order.
It only took a few more minutes for Scott to appear at the window with Levi’s order. Georgia’s stomach growled in protest. As if he’d heard it from where he was—maybe he had—he looked to Georgia next. “I’m coming out with yours.” He winked.
While Hope and Levi, their little boy in his stroller next to them, settled onto a nearby bench to enjoy their early dinner, Scott stepped from the truck with a tray full of food. There were three different pies and a large portion of classic poutine. Georgia’s mouth watered.
“I couldn’t make you choose,” he said. “I wanted you to try all of my favorites.”
