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“I want to help.” I shrugged off my linen suit jacket, unfastened my cuff links, and rolled up my sleeves.
“Why?” the one with dark hair and a shirt that stretched taut across his muscles demanded.
“Because if Trish needs help, I want to be there for her.”
Satisfied, he moved from where he blocked the entrance.
“Andrew,” I said, thrusting my hand toward him.
“Carlos.” He accepted and gave a sharp shake.
“Drew,” another man said with a chin lift.
I tossed my jacket on the back of the driver’s seat and loosened my tie, piling it on top. Damn, it was hot in here. I undid the top few buttons of my shirt, but it didn’t really help. How did Trish handle this? Today wasn’t really all that warm outside.
“Where do you need me?” I asked.
“Can you cook?” The man from the window turned around, a challenge in them.
“Yes.”
“Then help Stone on the grill.”
I did as instructed and crossed the short distance to the only one of the group I recognized. For some reason, I didn’t expect a celebrity to be wearing a flannel shirt and dirt-caked boots. His University of Texas baseball cap was almost tan instead of pristine white, the fabric on the bill frayed.
“I wouldn’t necessarily call this thing a grill.” Stone pointed accusingly at the smooth black griddle. “A grill uses wood or charcoal. Maybe gas if you’re desperate.”
“Uh . . . I think that’s burning.” I grabbed a spatula and flipped the piece of steak.
Stone waved the smoke away. “We’ve got to get Muriella down here. If we don’t, Trish ain’t gonna have any customers left.”
“Tell me what we’re working with here.” I edged in front of the cooktop, and Stone gladly moved.
“Hell, I don’t know what goes with what,” Stone said helplessly. “Tickets keep coming out of that machine.”
On cue, another one spit out the top. I ripped it off and put it on the metal rack above the grill.
“Where are the rest?”
“In that stack.” Stone picked up a pile of tickets and held them up.
“Any idea what’s already been done?”
“Daniel, how many people we got waiting around for their food?” he called to the man at the window.
“Six.”
“You heard the man.”
“All right. We’ve got this. I need a steak skewer, a vegetable skewer, and a chicken skewer,” I barked out.
Stone jumped into action. Once we found a rhythm, we all worked well together. The line moved faster, until we’d eventually cleared it.
I grabbed a glass of lemonade and stuffed the money for it in the tip jar. The five of us each found a surface to lean on. I was exhausted, but everyone else looked whipped.
“She really does this by herself most days?” Carlos asked, appearing baffled.
“That’s what Sonya says.” Drew shook his head. “I’m calling bullshit.”
