his hair, and his mouth had a familiar half smile, as if he found her endlessly amusing. Which was probably true, but she doubted he was laughing with her.
âGreg,â she managed, despite the fact that her mouth was dry.
âYour street food has everyone talking,â he said. âI tried your Curried Chicken Salad over the summer. I like how you mixed inââ
âNo, you didnât,â she interrupted.
One dark eyebrow rose. âAre you saying I didnât like it or I didnât have it?â
âYou didnât have it. You couldnât have. I would have noticed.â Having Greg standing in her lunch line would have gotten her attention in a big way.
His expression relaxed and the amused curve returned to his mouth. âI sent a friend. I had a feeling that if I tried to buy something from you, Iâd find a frying pan hurtling toward my head.â
Ana Raquel felt herself flushing. She stared down at her still-twisting fingers. âI would never hurt a paying customer,â she murmured.
âI think youâd make an exception for me.â
She looked up at him. âI donât dislike you,â she told him firmly.
Now both eyebrows rose.
âNot exactly,â she added. âItâs just...â
âYes?â
âYouâre so annoying.â
Greg surprised her by laughing. The warm, happy sound flowed through her like a sweet, melted ganache. Before she could figure out what to think let alone what to say, the soft sound of a throat clearing reminded her that they werenât the only ones in the room.
She returned her attention to the mayor.
âSorry.â
âNot at all.â Mayor Marsha smiled at them both. âGreg, I was just telling Ana Raquel that the Foolâs Gold Cookbook is too big a job for one person. Since youâve both thought of it, the obvious solution is for the two of you to work on it together.â
She glared at Greg. âYou thought of a cookbook, too? One based on home recipes and a few favorites from our restaurants? With some street food thrown in for fun?â
His dark gaze was steady. âYes. I spoke with the mayor about it last week.â
Mayor Marsha nodded in agreement. âGreat minds,â she said cheerfully.
Right , Ana Raquel thought glumly. Easy for the mayor to be happy. She wasnât the one who had once again been one-upped by Greg Clary.
Ana Raquel glanced at the mayor. She was well and truly trapped. Either she did the cookbook with Greg or she backed out. In which case he would do it on his own. It wasnât the glory that she would miss. It was that she knew exactly how she wanted the book to be. There was no way she was going to let him compromise her vision.
âFine,â she said firmly. âWeâll work on it together.â
CHAPTER THREE
A NA R AQUEL AND G REG walked out to the City Hall parking lot. She was hoping to come up with a brilliant reason he couldnât help her with the cookbook project, but nothing came to mind. When they reached their carsâhers, a beat-up old pickup, and his, a shiny new blue SUVâshe decided to accept the inevitable but try to stay in control of the situation.
âWe should get together and discuss how weâre going to approach the cookbook,â she told him. âI have a lot of ideas.â
He nodded. âMe, too. Iâve already spoken to Colleen at the Foolâs Gold Daily Republic. â
âWhy would you talk to the newspaper editor?â
âI thought she might want to have someone write a story on what weâre doing. We could get input from the community.â
âThat makes sense,â Ana Raquel murmured. Sheâd been thinking of putting up a few flyers, asking for recipe submissions, but an article in the local paper was more efficient and a good calling card. While the rest of the world had gone digital to get its news, here in Foolâs Gold, the daily
Bruce Alexander
Barbara Monajem
Chris Grabenstein
Brooksley Borne
Erika Wilde
S. K. Ervin
Adele Clee
Stuart M. Kaminsky
Gerald A Browne
Writing