as good?”
“Like where?”
“I don’t know yet.”
I shake my head. “I like my spot.”
“I need it.”
“That’s not my problem.”
His voice is firm and unyielding, just like his face. “I can make it a problem.”
“Why would you do that?”
“I am turning that area into a high-class, exclusive dining experience. I want to use the lot as part of the plan, and no one will want to see a trashy truck selling inferior desserts while they’re dining in luxury.”
And there it is. All cold calculation and arrogance. Except for the kitten in his hand that opens its little mouth in a yawn and regards me with half-closed drowsy eyes.
“Sorry if my cupcakes offend your delicate sensibilities, but you aren’t the boss of me.” The words are pushed out through gritted teeth. “You don’t own the world. Not everyone is going to cave to your demands because you snap your fingers and say so.”
The corner of one lip tilts and even though I’ve been wondering if he ever smiles, I don’t even want to see it. I want to punch it.
I poke him in the chest next to where the cat is snoozing. “It’s your fault I got fired last year and no restaurants would hire me. For Goodness Cakes is my only hope and you will not take that from me, too.”
A slight crease forms between his brows. “What are you talking about?” He glances over to where Bethany is talking to someone and then back. “You said we’d been introduced before. Is that true?”
Anger is a simmering boil in my veins while I stare at him. He really doesn’t remember. “You still don’t recognize me.”
He stares, hard. Eyes roving over my face. “We haven’t met. Not since before the other night. I would remember you.”
“Picture me holding a blowtorch. Maybe that will spark your memory.”
He blinks rapidly. Stares at me in confusion. Then his eyes widen, oh so slightly. “You’re that chef.”
“That chef. Right. That’s me.”
He shakes his head. “It’s been years since the…incident. You can’t expect me to remember every aspiring chef I interview.”
“Because so many of them try to set you on fire?”
His eyes brighten and his mouth twitches. Is he going to laugh? “I probably repressed the memory. Should I send you my therapy bills?”
“Was that a joke?”
“No.” But his eyes are still alight with humor.
“It hasn’t been years,” I insist. “It’s been less than a year.”
He stares me down, but I stare right back.
“You were wearing a hat,” he says finally.
The comment is so random it throws me off for a moment. “What?”
“That day. Your hair was covered by a chef’s hat.”
“Oh. What does that have to do with anything?”
The intensity of his gaze softens for a few seconds, like he’s dazing out but then shakes his head and snaps back to focus. “Nothing. It doesn’t matter. The point is that you need to find another location for your truck, and I am going to make sure it happens, one way or the other. I’m stubborn and I have a lot of resources.”
Frustration sinks into me like cat’s claws on a couch. “You don’t understand. You blackballed me, and I had no power to go against it. And now you’re just going to do it again? You’re a legend in the industry.”
His eyes widen slightly at the backhanded compliment, but I can’t stop the words from continuing to spill out, the frustration and anger from the last year giving me the bravery and the stupidity to speak with truth.
“I was just starting out. I’m still starting out. I made a mistake, but you nearly ruined me over it. When you use your power for evil instead of good you are doing your part to limit the voice of others. Besides, cupcakes have as much value as escargot. You might have more resources than me and you might do your best to get rid of me and you might even succeed. But I will fight you till the end. Not because I’m stubborn, too, but because I have no choice.”
He’s glowering at me, expression inscrutable. Something flickers through his eyes though and I can’t quite tell if it’s respect or pity. Then he speaks. “I don’t want to see you on my street next week.”
Anger has escalated from a simmer to a downright inferno inside me. “Then don’t look in my direction. Problem solved.”
His voice turns snappish. “You really want to fight me on this?”
“Are you always such a butt-sniffing turd nugget?”
He sputters for a second, waking up the