Page 9 of Jesse (Pecan Pines #6)

But the feeling stuck, gnawing at me. My hands moved faster than they should have, and before I realized it, I’d left a piece of brisket on the grill too long.

The charred edges crumbled as I flipped it, and I cursed under my breath.

By the time I served the next order, I’d messed up another. The line outside, once perfectly controlled, was growing longer by the minute.

My jaw tightened as I watched Jesse. He’d ditched the button-down I gave him, back in his sleeveless shirt.

His tan shoulders were on full display, every move fluid, and that damn dimple still flashed every time he smiled.

I burned another order.

“What the hell is wrong with me?” I muttered, glaring at the food in front of me.

I’d been fine earlier. I had this under control. But now...

I glanced at the line again, at the growing number of impatient faces. My stomach twisted. Maybe the truck really needed two people to run smoothly.

Maybe I couldn’t do this on my own. For the first time, I considered calling Jesse back inside.

I called up the next customer, brushing sweat off my forehead with the back of my wrist. I smiled, relieved to see a familiar face. “Hey, good to see you again.”

The man grinned back. It was the same man from the other day, the one whose order I’d completely botched thanks to Jesse’s distraction.

Somehow, seeing him again eased the tension inside me. Returning customers like him reminded me I wasn’t completely screwing this up. It was a small win, but it felt good.

“Good to be back,” he said, stepping closer to the counter. “You’ve got the best brisket I’ve ever had.”

I straightened a little, pride swelling in my chest. “Glad to hear it. What can I get for you today?”

He gave me his order, a brisket and smashed potatoes with the works, and I made sure to double-check every detail with him.

“You want the spicy drizzle on top, right? And extra cilantro?” I asked.

“Yep, that’s the one,” he said, nodding.

I prepped his order with extra care, making sure every element was just right.

The brisket was perfectly caramelized, the potatoes crisped at the edges, the toppings layered like I was plating for a magazine shoot.

As I was putting the finishing touches on his order, Jesse appeared beside me.

“What are you doing in here?” I asked, irritation slipping into my voice before I could stop it. “I thought you were staying outside.”

He leaned against the counter, his grin wide and infuriatingly smug.

“I noticed you might need some help. Saw a bit of smoke earlier. Everything okay?” Jesse asked.

“It’s fine,” I snapped, bristling. “I can handle it.” I turned back to the grill, flipping the next batch of meat with a little more force than necessary. “Besides, I thought you liked being out there, chatting up the crowd.”

Jesse raised an eyebrow at me, his smile shifting into something that made my skin prickle. I didn’t know what he found so amusing.

I ignored him, focusing on the customer instead. “Sorry, what’s your name again?” I asked the man.

“Aiden,” he replied.

Before I could say more, Jesse jumped in and, with a few quick moves, got Aiden’s order ready and handed it over, flashing that damn dimpled smile.

“Well, Aiden, enjoy your brisket,” Jesse said with a hint of impatience, as if he wanted to send him on his way.

Aiden thanked him and walked off, leaving me standing there with my jaw tight.

“I’ll stay here and work the cashier,” Jesse said.

“Fine,” I muttered, turning back to the grill.

Even though I hated to admit it, a small part of me was relieved. Having Jesse here would make things easier, and maybe I didn’t mind the idea of him sticking around.

I turned back to the grill, the afternoon fading fast. The sun was starting to set, and shadows stretched across the square.

The loudspeaker crackled, and a voice boomed overhead.

“Attention, competitors! The competition time is officially up. All sales must stop now.”

The announcement was followed by a chorus of groans and cheers as some food trucks scrambled to finish their last sales while others began cleaning up.

I stayed focused, plating the last few orders quickly.

I handed the last plate to a customer and exhaled deeply. “That’s it,” I said, half to myself, half to Jesse, who was leaning against the counter beside me.

He glanced at me, a small, satisfied smile on his lips. “We did good,” he said.

I wanted to agree, I really did, but my mind was already dissecting every moment of the day.

We’d sold out of almost everything, but halfway through, we ran out of potatoes and some of the toppings for Jesse’s brisket.

Sales slowed after that, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that it might have cost us. Still, I was sure we’d done enough to make it through. No way we’d come up short after all that.

The loudspeaker came to life again. “We will now announce the winners of this year’s food truck competition!”

Up on the stage, the fair organizer, a woman in a bright floral dress, was flanked by a panel of judges.

Papers and tablets were passed between them as they whispered among themselves.

The crowd murmured with anticipation, and I couldn’t help but lean forward slightly, my fingers twitching at my sides.

She tapped the microphone, her cheerful voice carrying over the square. “Thank you all for an incredible competition! Our judges had quite the task deciding the winners this year.”

I swallowed hard, glancing at Jesse. He looked calm, confident even, his arms crossed as he watched the stage.

“We’ll start with fifth place,” the organizer announced. “Congratulations to Rolling Dough Pizza!”

Applause erupted, and a small cheer went up from the truck to our left. I took a deep breath, willing myself to stay calm.

Fifth wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t what we were aiming for.

“Fourth place goes to... Taco Oasis!”

Another round of applause. My jaw tightened. Still no mention of us.

Jesse nudged me lightly with his elbow. “Relax,” he murmured. “We’ve got this.”

I wasn’t so sure anymore. My stomach twisted as the organizer moved on.

“And now, for our top three winners! Third place goes to...” She paused dramatically, scanning the crowd. “Smokestack Wings!”

My chest felt like it was caving in. That was the Thornebane truck. And it wasn’t us.

I barely heard the cheers from across the lot. The names blurred together as the organizer announced second and first place.

We lost.

I stood there, frozen. The applause around me felt distant, muffled, like it was coming from underwater.

Jesse touched my shoulder, his voice soft. “Beck?—”

“I’m fine,” I said quickly, shaking him off. We’d sold out, worked hard, done everything we could. And it still wasn’t enough.

I forced myself to smile, to keep my face neutral as the winners celebrated. But inside, all I could think was, what did we do wrong?