Page 42 of Revelry (Cowgirls Do It Better #2)

Gertie

“What if no one wants to buy my ice cream? What if they hate it?” I nibbled my lip, the panic settling in.

Tate brought my palm towards his mouth, placing a gentle kiss to the center that somehow managed to melt me yet set me on fire.

“That’s not going to happen. They would be stupid if they didn’t like it and we don’t want stupid people buying your ice cream.” He kept his eyes on the road as he drove out towards Redemption Ranch.

Yesterday I had been so distracted by Tate, then tree decorating and then Tate again that I hadn’t had time to think about what would actually happen today at the fair.

I’d only ever made my ice cream for friends and family, never strangers and while people’s opinions usually didn’t bother me, I was panicking big time.

Ice cream was a passion of mine, it was part of me and personal. Letting strangers try it was like letting them critique me personally. Every time I thought about it, I got stupid Gary’s stupid face in my mind, laughing at me and my silly ambitions.

This was silly, why was I even doing this?

Other than to help out Kat and the ranch, that is.

Who did I think I was? Some ice cream connoisseur?

No, I was just little old Gertie who liked to play around with it.

I had no formal training, no fancy equipment, I didn’t even have enough freezer space, for crying out loud.

Not to mention I now had a lot less as the batches I made with the ambition to take to the ranch to freeze, didn’t set properly.

Because they weren’t in the freezer long enough.

Because Tate made me come three times and that takes time and dedication.

I shivered thinking about it and squeezed my thighs together, trying to alleviate the ache that was somehow still there despite three orgasms less than twelve hours ago.

Tate’s gaze strayed from the road and roved over me.

“Stop it, unless you want to pull the truck over,” I groaned.

“Don’t tempt me,” he rumbled.

He’d also been strangely quiet today. His expression drawn in like he had something on his mind. I thought it was to do with me but every time I spoke to him, he was fine.

“Will you save me some?” He interrupted my thoughts.

“Sorry?”

“Ice cream? Will you save me some? I know it’ll sell out quick and I don’t want to miss out.”

I snorted. “I like your faith in my abilities.”

He took his gaze from the road for a moment to frown at me. “Of course I have faith in your abilities. More importantly, why don’t you?”

I shifted uncomfortably.

He pushed. “Why, Gertrude?”

“Why what?”

“Why don’t you believe in yourself?”

I pursed my lips, not wanting to have this discussion when I was already stressed. It would just make me feel worse. “Let’s not talk about this now.”

He shook his head. “Oh no. You’re about to go out there and sell your amazing ice cream and people are going to want to know how they can get more, so what are you going to tell them?”

I glanced at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

“When are you going to start your ice cream business?”

I scoffed. “I’m not. I don’t have that kind of money and I don’t—”

“You can get a loan from the bank for a start-up,” he interrupted. “What’s your next reason?”

“I don’t appreciate this,” I spluttered.

“Well, that’s just too damn bad. Now you know how I felt when you started forcing your way into my life, trying to give me a stickectomy.”

I laughed. “But look how well that turned out!”

He turned his hot stare on me. “Exactly.”

My mouth dried at the heat in his eyes, the sincerity and depth to that one word.

“It’s about time someone started backing you, sugar, and I’m sorry to tell you that that someone is going to be me. Don’t you want to be living your dream?” I think this was the most passionate I’d seen him outside of the bedroom and it sparked a tiny flame of hope.

“Living my dream?”

“Yes. You’re so passionate about it. When I watched you yesterday, I was so blown away by you.

The enthusiasm and the surety with which you created the flavors.

That you weren’t afraid to get something wrong and you kept going until you achieved perfection.

It was very inspiring.” His thumb stroked over my knee the entire time, like he was soothing me.

“You were watching me?”

He smirked. “Oh yeah, for a long time before you noticed me. Got me all turned on watching you in your element.”

I snorted, shoving his hand off my knee before I was tempted to move it higher. “It did not.”

“I swear, it really did.”

We arrived at the ranch and he didn’t say anything more, like he knew I needed to get in the zone. He parked by the main house, and I hopped out of the truck, opening my arms to greet Kat who was already running to me.

“It’s fair day!” she cried, squeezing me tight, her blonde hair enveloping me. “Our first one and I’m excited but could also vomit.”

“Me too,” I sighed.

She pulled away and glanced at Tate. “Have you been roped into helping out?”

“I sure have,” he smiled, then turned away and dropped the tailgate of the truck.

He’s smiling? Kat mouthed.

I nodded, giving her a thumbs up and she narrowed her stare at me.

My cheeks started flushing and flushed harder when her eyes drifted to the massive hickey that I’d tried to conceal.

Her eyes widened and I rolled my lips inwards shaking my head in a shut the fuck up motion.

She opened her mouth and did a silent squeal, mouthing oh my god at me.

We managed to silently do a little dance.

She gripped my arms squeezing them tight then we leapt apart as Tate turned back to us.

“Where do you want it all to go?” he asked, frowning as he took in our smooth, innocent expressions with our heavy breathing giving us away. “Everything okay?”

“Uh huh,” I pushed out. “Where should I set up?”

“Right this way,” Kat said breathlessly and gestured to follow her.

We rounded the house and saw Jack and Leo already setting up the lights on the stage and August was directing where the tables should go for local businesses to sell their wares. Daisy was checking people in and the whole area was abuzz with excitement as booths were set up.

A thrill ran through me as Kat showed us which table was mine.

It was the perfect spot so that I got all the fairgoers as they came in.

They could get an ice cream while they wandered around the other tables or watched the entertainment.

Kat said that they’d hired the band that usually played at the bar and that Max was going to play and sing.

“I’ll leave you to get set up. Thank you so much, Gertie. I really appreciate you stepping in so late and I just know everyone is going to go crazy for your ice cream. It’s just the tits.” Kat kissed my cheek and smacked my ass before racing off.

I looked at the table, a large six-footer which would be just enough room to get a selection of flavors out and the accompanying cones, cups and toppings. I placed my hands on my hips, eager to begin.

“What are you going to do now?” I asked Tate who stood with his arms folded, watching me with an odd expression on his face.

“I’m going to help you.”

My pulse pounded at his words. “Tate, you don’t have to do that. You’ll be bored.”

He snorted and stepped forward, taking up the space between us and cupped my jaw.

“How could I ever be bored around you?” he asked, dropping a quick kiss on the tip of my nose. “I’ll go get the ice cream, you keep planning how you want it to look.” He gave my ass a little tap which sent a thrill through me that he definitely noticed.

I started mapping out where I wanted everything to go; what was a practical placement of flavors. Did I put the most popular ones first or the quirkier flavors first to capture people’s attention? Did I put the candy first or the sauces? Did it matter? Was I over-thinking it?

Tate came back and I decided to just dive right in, pulling out tubs and arranging them. I left the duplicate flavors in the cooler and hoped they kept. It was pretty cold out, my fingers were going numb and my anxiety rose.

“Why have I made ice cream in freaking winter?” I cried.

“Because it doesn’t matter how cold it is outside, people love coming and getting this kind of food from stalls.

You’re like a mini food truck,” Tate said, rubbing his big hands up and down my arms, invigorating me.

I glanced at the other vendors setting up their stalls.

There was a fudgery, a cupcakery and a place that was frying burgers and corn dogs.

“Have faith,” Tate murmured against my hair before pressing a kiss to my head. I nodded, turning away from the others and not letting them get to me.

I fiddled with the lilac checkered cloth I’d draped over the table. The pastel-colored tubs created a nice aesthetic. It looked feminine and reminded me of springtime. Soon I was pacing behind the table and looking up to see people arriving in droves.

“Showtime,” I murmured, shaking out my hands to stop their trembling.

“You’ve got this,” Tate whispered behind me, running a palm over my back in soothing circles.

A couple of people glanced at the stall as they strolled past and instead headed for the burger place.

“I knew it!” I hissed at Tate. “I knew it was stupid to sell ice cream in winter!”

The bastard had the gall to laugh at me. “Hold your nerve, Gertrude.” He spun me back to face the crowd and patted my ass again which did little to calm me down this time.

It was an hour before someone ventured over and my nerves were shredded. Tears were constantly threatening to spill but I kept a smile pasted on my face, all while Tate murmured soothing words.

“Mom, I want ice cream!” A child shrieked and my heart pounded. This was it. The kid dragged her mother over who was already weary and just gave in.

“What’s that one?” the child asked, the multicolored ribbons in her hair swishing with each movement. She was pointing to the colorful cream swirl filled with candy pieces.

“Rain…Rainbow Surprise,” I stumbled, my tongue thick and heavy in my mouth.

“Mama, I want a rainbow one!”

The mother sighed and gave me a tight smile. “Can I have a small Rainbow Surprise and a Rum and Raisin?”

I stood stock still, staring at her, unable to believe someone wanted what I’d made. Tate nudged me from behind, clearing his throat.

“Gertrude,” he murmured, and I snapped out of my daze.

“Of course! Coming up, would you like any sprinkles on your Rainbow Surprise?” I asked the child who glanced at her mother. Tired Mom sighed again and reluctantly nodded. I handed her the cone and she gazed at it with awe. “Look Mom, it matches my hair!” she shrieked and swished her ribbons again.

I turned back to do her mom’s cone. “Can I have a large scoop please? It looks delicious and I need a treat to reward myself for the terror she’s going to turn into once all that sugar hits her,” she groaned.

I laughed. “Sorry not sorry and yes, have an extra-large scoop. Any sauce?”

“Chocolate please.”

I drizzled the chocolate sauce over the ice cream and handed it to her, she gave me a ten-dollar bill and told me to keep the change. I nodded, murmuring a thank you and stared at the note in my hand.

The first ice cream money I’d ever made.

“Well done, Gertrude.”

I turned and stared at Tate, a slow smile working its way onto my lips. Before I could process that I’d made my first ever sale, I was distracted by a child screaming.

“No fair, Mommy! They got ice cream. I want ice cream!”

Eventually another parent was dragged over to my stall and more scoops were doled out. The crowd grew thicker and then someone was ordering a waffle with a scoop of ice cream. I’d brought a little waffle maker which was plugged into a socket available from the temporary generator.

While the waffle was warming, I served two more customers.

It became so busy at one point that Tate stepped in to help out before I started losing customers.

I was frazzled, not coping with the fact that people wanted to buy my ice cream, that I could hear compliments and customers raving about it as they went away. Imposter syndrome kicked right in.

While I was sorting out the waffles, I could hear Tate talking to a young couple who had stopped by.

“Yes, makes it all herself by hand. No fancy machines, just passion and dedication in each scoopful.”

I stared at him, amazed to hear the words falling out of his mouth.

He was so chatty with everyone. When did he become such a man of the people?

He was stepping in and helping out, and my heart warmed in the cool winter night at him showing up for me when I needed him to.

At him supporting me and my silly little ice cream dream.

After a few hours I was almost out of ice cream. I handed an older man his lemon and lime sorbet. “What’s the place called?”

“I’m sorry?” I asked over the loud crowd.

“Your business, what’s it called?” he asked again.

I turned to Tate who looked at me and raised an eyebrow, all smug and I told you so .

What was it he had said to me in the truck about living the dream?

If this was a taste of what I could do, then I was already hooked.

This evening had started out bumpy but had ended up being amazing.

I’d spoken to so many people, heard personal stories about times their family had taken them for ice cream, memories attached to certain flavors.

I wanted this.

I really wanted this.

Living the dream, that’s what Tate had said.

“Uh, Living The Cream?” I said.

The man chuckled. “I like it, I’ll keep an eye out for you. Have you got a business card?”

“Oh, no, I haven’t.”

“No worries, I’ll remember the name. You have a good evening.” He lifted his ice cream in a small wave and then disappeared.

“You too,” I called after him, but he was swallowed up by the crowd.

“Living The Cream,” Tate repeated, and I turned to him.

“Too much?” I asked, desperate to know what he thought.

He shook his head, smiling and pulled me close. “Just right.”