Burning Up by Jennifer Blackwood

Author:Jennifer Blackwood [Blackwood, Jennifer]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781503901414
Publisher: Montlake Romance
Published: 2018-05-07T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Erin wiped the sweat beading on her brow and snuck to the back of the Airstream for a quick break. Even after her coffee date with her friends yesterday, she still felt on edge about this past weekend. Her sister had taken over the register and food prep since there was a lull in customers. With a quick glance to make sure no one was looking, she pulled out her own homemade sandwich. Except hers didn’t contain their mom’s perfected recipe that had earned them celebrity status in the downtown food-truck community. No, this one was slathered with layer upon layer of Jif. Yes, Erin was a traitor to her own flesh and blood. The guilt-trip ship had sailed years ago, and now she was left with a vessel named the Zero-Shits-Given. She’d captained this boat for years. No chance in trading her in now.

She sat on a crate, letting the oscillating fan ruffle her matted bangs. To think, just last weekend, she’d been with Jake. All over him. Stupid, stupid, stupid. What had she been thinking? She still couldn’t get their cringe-worthy conversation out of her head.

This is for the best. She had to believe that because it meant that a new job was just around the corner, and she’d be out of here and never have to live through the embarrassment of seeing him again.

Andie finished washing a knife in the wash bin, dropped it onto the drying rack, and wiped her hands on a fresh towel. “Can you hand these flyers out to some of the local businesses? Mom asked me to do that yesterday, but we got swamped.” She pointed to the stack of pink flyers that advertised a buy-one-get-one-free event for all the food carts in Periwinkle Circle. The food-cart community was a tight-knit group of people who worked together to make sure people continued to come to their end of Twenty-Third. Her mom often headed the fund-raisers and was basically the matriarch in the community.

“Sure.” She snatched the flyers off the counter. Anything to get herself out of her head for a few minutes.

Erin made her way down the bustling streets of the Northwest District. Twenty-Third Avenue was a gem in downtown. Tearoom windows displaying decadent macarons, the smell of berry jams and Nutella crepes wafting out of bakery-shop doors, you name it. She stretched her neck, tilting her face toward the early-morning sun peeking over the buildings. Indie music wafted out of open storefront doors, tunes that beckoned customers to take a look at eclectic pieces.

Downtown Portland in the morning had been one of Erin’s favorite things as a kid. Store owners setting up shop, watering plants on the sidewalk, everyone waving a cheery hello. They might have been doing it with two-inch plugs in their ears and full-sleeve tattoos, but this was about as Brady Bunch–esque as a city could get without being on a film set. She had to admit that this city did hold a certain amount of charm.

She crossed the street, and a unicyclist walking his Chihuahua whizzed by, going in the other direction.

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