Perfect Pairing (5 page)

Quinn laughed. Maybe not a full laugh, but it was a chuckle at least, and Hal's heart did a happy little bounce.

She frowned. This woman shouldn't be happy in her truck, and Hal wasn't happy to have her there. She didn't let anyone in her space. Not even beautiful, efficient bankers. Especially not ones with an agenda. “Where the hell is Sully?”

“Here, Chef.” Sully stood at the backdoor with a crockpot in hand.

“Did you have to go all the way to France to get the bleu cheese?”

“I bet it felt like that for you.”

“Just get in here.”

“Here, take this.” She slid the crockpot into the truck. “There's another one in the car.”

“You know you're still going to be backed up,” Quinn said as quietly as she could and still be heard over the music and the motor. “You've got two separate lines now, and the one for the
Heard Of Buffalo?
is almost as long as the main line.”

She looked outside, but the gesture was empty. She'd seen the orders pile up, and she already knew what Quinn was suggesting. They needed to run the wait time down in the delayed line without causing too much delay in the main line. Extra hands would come in, well . . . handy.

Sully returned with the other pot of chicken wing dip, and Hal met her at the backdoor. She passed the dip to Ian and then hopped out before Sully could climb in.

“Need a minute, Chef?

“Something like that.”

“Is the giant stick up her ass literally obstructing airways in there?”

“Yeah, about that.” Hal pushed a strand of hair off her forehead. “The line's pretty backed up, and she's doing a passable job.”

“Uh-huh,” Sully said, pressing her tongue into the side of her cheek—a clear sign she was trying not to laugh.

“It's nothing long-term. Just enough to get the lines down. It can't hurt to have some extra hands for the job.”

“That's what she said.”

Leave it to Sully to turn even her weakness into a tawdry joke. “Thanks for your support.”

“Any time, Chef.”

“Get back to work.” She turned to go, but Sully's hand on her shoulder stopped her.

“You know women like that always want something in return, right?”

Hal sighed and nodded.

“It doesn't mean it's a bad thing. Maybe it's your hot ass.”

Hal shook her head, but smiled.

“Hey, better your ass than your soul.”

“Boy, when you put it that way, I feel so much better,” she said, hopping back into the truck.

Both Quinn and Ian looked up to see them enter. Quinn looked as perfectly together as ever. Not a hair out of place and the same put-on smile she'd worn all afternoon. Ian's forehead shone with a thin layer of sweat and steam, and his shirt had melted cheese down the front, but his grin seemed more honest than his sister's.

“So.” Hal cleared her throat. “You guys have been doing A-OK, and, um, thank you. Now that Sully's back, you can go.”

Ian's smile faltered, and Quinn's jaw twitched.

Sully nudged her from behind.

“But, if you don't have anything else to do, we've got an hour left and lots of people to feed.” Hal looked at the ceiling, then back at Ian because he was easier to face. “You could stay and help us out, and we would appreciate it.”

She finally turned to Quinn. “And I'm paying you. You know I don't like charity or favors or anything. We'll pay you guys and be even.”

Quinn touched her lightly on her arm, delicate fingers against bare skin, cool and warm all at once. “We'd be happy to help. No strings attached.”

Hal gave a curt nod, afraid if Quinn touched her like that any longer she might actually start to believe her. “All right then, back to work.”

The last two customers walked away from the window with their camera phones pointed at the food she'd handed them. Nearly three hours of feeding people, and not one had complained about the food. Few of them had even had the nerve to complain about their wait time in “line.” Cheesy Does It seemed to attract an amiable clientele,
laid back and casual, but with high expectations. The customers seemed a lot like the chef in that respect.

Quinn had become skilled at reading people over the years. Maybe she didn't always use those skills as well as she should, but she'd learned to recognize committed individuals, to distinguish between them and the casual entrepreneur or the professional bullshitter. Hal actually cared, as evidenced by the fact that she put her customers' needs over her clear and abundant displeasure about having her truck invaded by a college-aged interloper and a corporate marauder. The emotions warring within her had actually contorted her face and visibly knotted her shoulder muscles when Quinn first offered to help. Thankfully the conflict had also left the door open long enough for her to get back inside. Now she planned to stay there.

“Good work today,” Sully said, coming up behind her.

“Thank you.”

“Here, drinks on me.” She extended a bottle of water, and Quinn gratefully accepted. “Thanks for not scaring off any of our customers . . . that we know of.”

“To my knowledge they all left happy.”

Sully tossed another water to Ian. “And that's for not burning the place down.”

Ian grinned as if he'd been handed a trophy. “I had fun.”

Fun wasn't quite the word Quinn would choose, but it wasn't an unpleasant way to spend a few hours. She learned a lot about the customers, the food, and the truck. She'd learned less about the chef, but she got the feeling Hal didn't give up personal information easily, and even that might be an important insight. Along with the fact that Hal was very protective and had a streak of perfectionism when it came to her work, Quinn felt more than ever that she'd picked the right person to start a business with. Now if only she could convince Hal.

“Thirty-one dollars each,” Hal said after stashing the cashbox somewhere Quinn couldn't see.

“What?” Ian asked.

“Three hours at eight dollars an hour is twenty four dollars, plus we split the tips from the jar equally, and that gives you each thirty-one dollars.”

She handed some cash to Ian. “Don't spend it all in one place.”

“Can I spend it here?” he asked. “Like now?”

“What do you want here?”

“I want a
Sloppy Firsts
. I've been dying to try one all afternoon.”

“You've been dishing the stuff up for hours and you're not sick of it yet?” Hal smiled at Ian, and Quinn felt a twinge of something akin to affection. “Go ahead, on the house. You earned it.”

“I'll make it with you,” Sully said. “You two go relax.”

Hal frowned and Sully laughed. “Go on. I won't corrupt the kid . . . too much.”

Quinn doubted Hal's reluctance had anything to do with Ian and Sully, but she acquiesced and headed for the door. Hal hopped down out of the truck then, and in an unexpectedly thoughtful move offered a hand to Quinn, who was so surprised she actually accepted the help, then regretted it as soon as her palm slid across Hal's. Quinn tried to tell herself the urge to pull away stemmed from her desire not to appear helpless or needy, but the quickening of her pulse suggested something more.

“So, here's your thirty-one dollars,” Hal said, quickly replacing her hand with the money.

“Thanks, and I'll take it because it seems important to you, but you know I didn't stay for the money, right?”

Hal nodded. “The money's all I'm offering though.”

“You can't bring yourself to dish up a little forgiveness, too?”

“Forgiveness?”

“For our last meeting? I was brash and pushy. When I get excited about something, I tend to charge a bit.”

“A bit? You mean like the cavalry clad in business suits?”

“Perhaps a bit like that,” Quinn admitted, “but it's not meant to be the hard sell. My enthusiasm is genuine. I meant every word.”

“Crazy people generally do,” Hal said seriously, then cracked a smile. “But I don't think you're crazy.”

“You don't?”

“A bit overzealous, perhaps anal-retentive, but not like bat-shit crazy. So if you came here today for absolution, you've got it. You did your penance. You're free to go.”

“Thank you,” Quinn said sincerely, but she had no intention of going anywhere.

“So, can we start again?”

Hal shook her head. “There's no sense in that. Save the pitch for someone else. Don't undo all the goodwill you've built.”

“I don't want to undo it. I want to build on it. You're a smart businesswoman, a brilliant chef, and you care about these people, this city. I know you do.”

“And I think the same can be said for you, minus the chef part. I'm sure you're very good at investment things and whatever other banking stuff you do.”

“You have no idea what I do, do you?”

“Not really.”

“You don't have to. If we went into business, you'd never have to worry about the money side again.” Quinn felt herself starting to get worked up again, but she couldn't stop herself. “You'd never pay for an ingredient out of your own pocket, you'd never have to worry about whether or not you could pay extra people to help out, and don't tell me service wasn't faster today with more people working.”

“No, you're right, all of that sounds nice on paper, but my life, my business, doesn't unfold on paper. Like I said last time, Sully and I are a team, not a machine. You can't just take away and add parts at will. You don't understand what it's like to build that bond over fifteen years.” Hal sighed. “You don't understand anything about my business, and I'm not going to turn over control of that business to someone who doesn't get it on the fundamental level I do.”

“You're right. I'm not a chef, but I managed to keep up pretty well today.”

“You took orders and money. I don't want to sound ungrateful, but people don't eat orders or money. You approach everything from that efficiency lens of yours, but my business is so much more than a strictly-business person can ever really see.”

She waved her off, undeterred. “We both see different things. We'd complement each other.”

“But here's the kicker. I'm doing just fine moneywise. I make and
manage enough money to run my business the way I like. I can do my job without you.”

Quinn heard the other unspoken half of that sentence. Hal didn't need her, but she needed Hal. She bit the inside of her cheek and tried not to shake as the frustration bubbled up in her again. “You're right. You do know more about my end than I know about yours. I'm a quick study though. You can teach me.”

“Where would I even start? It would be like trying to teach someone to read when they haven't learned the alphabet.” The pink tint returned to Hal's cheeks. She was more attractive when she got animated. “You know nothing about what goes into my job. You probably don't even know where you'd go to get good produce in Buffalo, do you?”

“Well . . .”Quinn realized she was being tested on material she hadn't been taught. “Wegman's has a very nice produce section.”

“Wegman's? The grocery store? Are you serious? Wegman's? You think Wegman's has the best produce in Buffalo?”

Quinn shrugged.

“Actually, you're right. They do have really good produce,” Hal admitted in her most exasperated voice. “But no food-truck driver I know can afford to shop there. We have to go local, smaller. Think farmers' markets and the Niagara Frontier Food Terminal, and Willowbrook Farms.”

Quinn pulled out her iPhone.

“What are you doing?”

“Googling those places.”

“Googling?” Hal practically exploded. “You can't Google food.”

“You can Google anything you can spell,” Quinn said, then held up the phone, saying the letters aloud as she typed “F-O-O-D.”

Hal threw up her hands. “You're proving my point.”

“And you're missing mine,” Quinn shot back quickly. “We don't both have to be experts. We each do our own things well. A team. You seem to be fond of those.”

“But you control the purse strings?”

“Of course.”

“That's not a team,” Hal said. “That makes you my boss, and
that means I'm beholden to you. If someone can give you something, they can take it away. And ultimately that means I'm not interested.”

Dammit. How did Hal keep turning things around? This wasn't how she wanted the conversation to go. “Okay, fine. I'll go with you to shop for produce.”

“What? No,” Hal said. “Geez, how do you keep running around in that circle without tying yourself in a knot?”

“You said I needed to learn your side of our business.”

“There is no ‘our business.' There's your business and my business, and never the two shall meet.”

Quinn laid a hand softly on her shoulder. “It doesn't have to be that way.”