Need You for Always (Heroes of St. Helena) by Marina Adair Read Free Book Online Page B

get distracted in the final mile by some guy—”
    “Last time you called him a sex ninja.”
    She’d called him worse in her mind. “I was drunk.”
    “Which is how I know you were telling the truth,” Harper said with a knowing smile. “When you get tipsy you get all mushy, and girly, and chatty. You even let me do your nails and makeup.”
    Which was why she didn’t drink often. First, she was, surprisingly, a lightweight. Second, she went from a fighter to lover in two shots of whiskey—just ask Dax. And most importantly, growing up with a sick mother meant weekly trips to the ER, where she’d go from sound asleep to ready to go in seconds, which had taught Emerson the risk wasn’t worth it. Being in control and ready for anything had been the key to surviving her childhood.
    “Winter is right around the corner,” Emerson said. “If the rain gets here before my truck, then I am back to dressing like a clown and catering kids’ parties full-time until spring.” And that would feel like taking a huge step back. Something Emerson wasn’t willing to do.
    The Pita Peddler, although a money maker, was a seasonal business. Her single umbrella didn’t offer much protection from the elements, and water-soaked falafel didn’t rate high in customer satisfaction.
    “So you’re almost there?”
    Emerson smiled. “Almost.” According to her plan, she was just six thousand dollars, or three private VFW parties, shy of her goal. Which meant that come January she would be trading up and accomplishing what she and her mom had dreamed of.
    “Good, because look what came in.” Harper pulled a certified letter from the back pocket of her jeans and waved it in Emerson’s face.
    “Oh my God!” Emerson grabbed the letter, a punch of excitement slamming against her chest. “Is that from—”
    “Street Eats?” Harper’s grin was so big it shone. “Yup. The mail guy needed a signature, so I pretended to be your roommate.”
    Emerson looked at the empty pastry box in the kitchen, the mango-colored backpack sprawled across the table, and the stack of Harper’s laundry on the chair waiting to be folded, and figured it wasn’t that far from the truth.
    Emerson ran a finger across the side of the envelope, hesitating at the back flap. Inside could be a rejection, or an opportunity of a lifetime, and Emerson wasn’t sure which she wanted more.
    Street Eats was the nation’s most competitive and prestigious food truck competition. Hundreds applied, only a few were lucky enough to be accepted, and this year it was coming to wine country. The cook-off would attract thousands of foodies and some of the best gourmet food trucks from around the country. The top chefs in her field would go head-to-head in her own backyard, showcasing their cutting-edge eats, and Emerson dreamed of being one of them.
    A lot of things had changed since she’d applied last year. Violet had started school, her dad had found every reason in the world not to get a job—in fact, her family seemed more dependent on her now than ever. Plus, she was still shy a gourmet food truck. And short on cash to get one.
    Harper scooted to the edge of the couch. “Open it before I combust from nerves!”
    With a deep breath, Emerson pulled out the letter and—
    “No freaking way.” She held up the gold script invitation certifying that Emerson Blake, culinary school dropout, had an exclusive golden ticket to live out one of her life’s greatest dreams. “I got in.”
    “You got in!” Harper, being 100 percent chick, let out a huge squeal, then pulled Emerson in for one of her infamous hugs. It was warm, long, and full of all those female bonding sounds other women seemed to make when they hung in large groups. Emerson had never been big on large groups, or female bonding, but knowing it would go faster if she didn’t resist, she allowed the embrace—but didn’t return it. Counted to three. Gave a closing pat to her friend’s shoulder, then tried