“That’s good. I’d hate to snore the first night we spend together, you know?”

He kissed me, and we sat together silently for a few minutes.

“We have to go,” he said. “After this is all over, we’ll talk about us. Tonight, we’ll be home again. I’ll see you later, Zoe.”

I didn’t really see him leave, but I saw the door open and close. I dragged myself out of bed and into the shower. After the terrible night I had, I’d expected to feel much worse.

Miguel assuring me that I didn’t snore helped. Seeing his face first thing was great, too. That smile was enough to chase all my blues away.

I felt lighthearted and ready to face the day. It was time to take out the bikini.

– – – – – – –

There was a large crowd waiting for us in downtown Birmingham. The TV show promotion, and the building tension to see who would win, had created fans. I saw my name on two large posters that were held in the air.

“Look! There’s Zoe and Delia!” A man yelled and waved.

“Weird.” Ollie shook his head. “Why was he yelling for the two of you and not me?”

Uncle Saul slapped his back and laughed.

Ropes were up to keep the crowds away from the food trucks in the pre-dawn darkness. Camera crews were on hand from several of the major TV networks. It seemed odd after being in Atlanta, a much larger city, that people would make such a fuss over us in Birmingham.

All the food truck vendors were wearing robes or large shirts that covered up their bikinis when we met in front of the stage where Patrick Ferris was waiting.

“Why isn’t he wearing a bikini?” Ollie asked in a sour voice. His super-long Crimson Tide T-shirt covered his bathing suit.

“Because he isn’t part of the race.” Uncle Saul’s bikini was covered by an ankle-length trench coat. “He gets to wear what he wants. Anyone taking odds on him making it through the rest of the race?”

“I’ve got some money to put on that!” Bobbie Shields was wearing a loose-fitting flowered dress over her bikini.

Her daughter, like Delia, wore her bikini out in the open. Not surprising since she looked awesome in it. It was one of those suits with the patches in strategic places that seemed to be held together with magic.

Patrick was going through his usual spiel, reminding us all of the rules and the challenge for that day. I could tell everyone was extra nervous. This was the end of the line for two more food trucks. Only one stop to go before a winner was announced.

Dante was there, up by the front of the stage. He was wearing his black bikini with no covering. It looked good on him. He pulled it off with fantastic abs and a taut tush.

I clung to my pink robe and didn’t plan to remove it until I had to.

Miguel was there in jeans and a Biscuit Bowl T-shirt. Ollie had a few words to say about the outriders not having to meet the challenge. He was mostly ignored as the time neared for us to get started on making food for the day.

There was no sign of the Our Daily Bread team. Had they given up rather than wear bikinis? It seemed like too much to ask for. I waited for them to make an appearance.

When everything pertinent had been said, the remaining food truck teams started back to get ready for the day. Chef Art had managed to get a TV crew from Mobile to come in and tape us making food.

“You all remember to wear your hats,” he reminded us before making room for the cameramen.

Ollie and Uncle Saul looked at each other and sighed before they removed their outer garments to reveal the skimpy bathing suits beneath them.

When Ollie removed his T-shirt, I heard an audible gasp from Delia.

She stared at him. “Which one of us is supposed to look better in a bikini?”

TWENTY-FIVE

My jaw dropped, too. I had never seen Ollie wearing so little. He made Dante look like he’d only started working out a few days earlier. Ollie had muscles on his muscles. He was in awesome shape.

“Man!” Uncle Saul shook his head. “You look good. Why were you covering up?”

“I’m wearing a woman’s bikini.” Ollie punctuated each word with a dollop of sarcasm. “Why do you think?”

“I love the dragon tattoo.” Delia ran her hand up his back from the spot where the dragon’s tail ended under the red bottom to the head that was arched back on his broad, muscular shoulders.

“Thanks!” He looked surprised and pleased that we were so complimentary.

I took the opportunity, while everyone was gawking at Ollie’s physique, to remove my robe and quickly stash it in a bottom storage bin in the kitchen.

“Wow!” Miguel approved quietly, but with a lustful smile that I enjoyed.

I felt myself blush all over—and I mean all over. “Okay. Let’s get going or we don’t have a chance of having the food ready by eight. Uncle Saul, what are we making today?”

He’d chosen a simple, but sure to please, menu. His gumbo was to die for, even though we’d have to take a few shortcuts to have it ready in time. For our sweet dish, he’d chosen berries and whipped cream.

We jumped right in. Delia and I chopped precooked vegetables, sausage, and chicken while Uncle Saul started the biscuit bowls. The berries had to be thoroughly washed—that was Ollie’s job.

It was hard to ignore the cameramen. It was already like being in a fish bowl. Sometimes I felt like the camera was going right in my ear. Could they come any closer?

I knew they were doing us a favor, traveling up from Mobile to document the race. It was still hard to work that way.

It was just as hard to keep my mind focused on what we were doing. I kept thinking about Helms, wondering how she was doing and why she’d risked her life to come up to my hotel room after she was shot.

It made me feel guilty that I couldn’t understand what she’d been trying to tell me. Obviously it was something important or she wouldn’t have done it.

All we could do was wait until she until she could tell everyone.

I hated waiting.

The bikini was comfortable as the kitchen heated up. I’d left the back door, and the order window, open. That brought in a fresh breeze. I didn’t want to turn on the air-conditioning until the afternoon.

“Okay.” Uncle Saul rubbed his hands together as he finished making the roux. “Let’s get the rest of it in there.”

The big pot had to rest over three of the burners on the small hot plate. All of the vegetables and meats went into the pot, and the whole thing started to smell divine right away.

It was a good thing we were using fresh berries for the sweet biscuit bowl and not cooking those, too!

“Where does this recipe come from?” one of the cameramen asked when we got quiet.

“My grandma made it and passed it to my mother.” Uncle Saul grinned as he stirred the mixture. “Now I make it. You know, a man can cook, too.”

The cameraman laughed. “Some men, maybe. I can barely make coffee and toast.”

“It’s easy,” Uncle Saul assured him. “Here. Let me hold the camera. You stir the pot until the sauce thickens.”

They switched places, and the cameraman awkwardly used the big spoon to stir the mixture. “Like this?”

“Just like that,” Uncle Saul told him. “I hope the camera is on.”

“It’s on.” The other man laughed. “They might want to edit this part out.”

“The berries are ready,” Ollie said. “Should I put sugar on them?”

“No!” Uncle Saul didn’t like that idea.

I wasn’t so sure. “You know how berries are—some sweet, some not so sweet. I think a little sugar would be good on them.”