Sausage King: An Enemies to Lovers Romantic Comedy Page 14

  Fear freezes my words in my throat.

  “I guess the King is used to winning, right?” she asks lightly.

  I hear the underlying tension in her voice. I squeeze her hand, trying to convey everything I’m too much of a wimp to say. “Things are going to be okay, Dakota.”

  She’s quiet for a long time. Finally, she nods. “I hope so.”

  Saturday is another brilliantly sunny day. The park is packed with people. A band is playing eighties covers. This weekend, the city gave Cat and Vicki a permit to set up a beer tent. Ale is flowing, dogs and children run around, and everyone looks like they’re ready to have a good time.

  I get to work, as does Dakota. For a couple of hours, things go smoothly, and I begin to think that Rana’s done enough. I begin to hope that this week will go off without incident.

  And then it happens.

  This week, it's not sabotage.

  Three buses roll up to the park. People start pouring out of them, and they all make a beeline toward Marvin Hale’s unappetizing-looking sliders.

  Fuck me with a spoon.

  They’re plants, of course. It's obvious to everyone that they’ve been paid off to buy the Friendly Crown’s food. And yet, there's nothing we can do about it. There's nothing in the rules that would prevent this from happening.

  I catch sight of Dakota's face. She looks stricken. Helpless rage churns in my stomach.

  Next week, I'm sure that the judges will find a way to prevent this. But today, we can do nothing. I can do nothing. All I can do is seethe as the ticket sales are tallied up.

  Rana steps up to the podium. Last week, she’d been all smiles. This week, she’s pissed. Her lips are pressed tight, and her hands are clenched into fists. She looks like she’s a half-second from punching Marvin Hale in the face.

  She’s not the only one. The only reason Hale’s still standing is because Dakota’s family is in the crowds, and she would be mortified if I got into a fight. As much as I want to beat the crap out of the smirking bastard, I can’t. I’m never going to do anything to embarrass the woman I love.

  Roger Wexler’s in the crowd too, looking smug and satisfied. Fucker. When I’m done with him, he’s going to realize the folly of going up against me. He’s going to regret the day he ever messed with Dakota and me.

  Rana, Sarit, and Mark Miller are locked in a low-voiced conversation. I wait, Dakota next to me.

  Finally, Rana lifts her microphone. “Here are the results of today’s contest,” she says shortly. “In first place, Marvin Hale from The Friendly Crown.”

  A couple of people in the crowd applaud, but most people look pissed off. Hale cheated. It feels wrong to reward him for it.

  “In second place, Julian King from the Sausage King. Congratulations, Julian. The currywurst was a huge hit.”

  Fuck. It's between Valentina and Dakota.

  Dakota’s recovered from her earlier shock. She doesn't look lost anymore. She looks furious, and I love her for it. That's my girl. Never stop fighting, Wilde.

  “Valentina and Dakota both made amazing food today,” Rana says grimly. “Unfortunately, one of them will have to be eliminated.”

  I hold my breath. I’ve represented Fortune 500 corporations at trials worth millions of dollars. I've never been as nervous as I am in this moment.

  “Valentina, I'm sorry to say that you were in last place.”

  Valentina Grayson looks gutted. As terrible as I feel for her, relief floods through me. Dakota’s safe.

  “That leaves our three finalists for next week. The Friendly Crown, Sausage King, and Dakota's Pizza.” Rana doesn’t crack a smile. She’s furious. “Congratulations. See you all next week.”

  I turn toward Dakota, bracing myself for her anger, but I’ve underestimated her. She gives me a wry smile. “Well, that was interesting. I guess we now know who fucked with my sauce.”

  “Mm-hmm.” I need a plan to counter Hale. Next week, if he intends to cheat his way to the permit, he will sabotage both Dakota and me.

  “Right now,” Dakota says, “I want a long shower and a cold beer.” She holds out her hand to me. “Want to get out of here?”

  Her mother’s in the crowd. Her brother too. Half the town is watching us, and she’s holding out her hand to me.

  I fucking love Dakota Wilde.

  I lace my fingers in hers. Marvin Hale can wait. Tonight, I have more important priorities. Like showing Dakota exactly how much I love her.

  Then I see two familiar faces in the crowd, and I suppress a groan. Fredrick and Susan King have terrible timing. “I'm afraid that escape is impossible for the moment,” I tell Dakota. “Want to meet my parents?”

  25

  Dakota

  So many thoughts are churning through my mind. My emotions are all over the place. My heart is racing in my chest, my throat is dry. I cling to Julian, but while his touch normally grounds me, today, it does nothing to calm me down.

  I’d almost been eliminated. I came face to face with catastrophe. I tiptoed to the edge of ruin, and it’s a scary fucking place.

  Everything I’ve accomplished, I’ve fought for. In the early years, I didn’t have enough money to hire a cook; I was the cook. During tourist season, I’d wake up at the crack of dawn and drive straight to the restaurant. I would work from five in the morning until ten at night. I’d take shifts in the kitchen, on the floor, whatever was needed. Seventeen-hour shifts, six days a week, for a four-month stretch every summer.

  I’d done that for the better part of four years, until I clawed my way to profitability. I remember how brutally hard it had been. Bathroom sprung a leak? It came out of my profits. Power went out and I had to throw away a week’s worth of cheese and meat? I almost missed payroll.

  I’d stood there today, waiting for Rana to pick between Valentina and me, and all of it had come rushing back. All that fear, all that panic. I’d stood there today, waiting for Rana to announce which one of us would be eliminated, and I realized how easily everything I’ve worked for could be ripped from me.

  In a flash, it can all be taken away. I can lose everything.

  I can’t talk to Neil Silver about finding other options; he’s already sent his lawyers after me once.

  In the meanwhile, while I’m fighting for my life, Julian makes a currywurst and wows the crowd, and he’s in second place. Had it not been for the dirty trick Marvin Hale pulled, he’d have won this round.

  Of course. The Sausage King doesn’t lose.

  This situation isn’t Julian's fault, but I can't help feeling bitter. He already has a successful business. If he doesn't get the restaurant permit, nothing will happen to him. Mrs. Shepperd still hasn't signed his offer. There is no contract, no deposit.

  He could just walk away from it, but he isn’t. He’s just too damned competitive.

  Come on, Dakota. That’s not fair. The town council is responsible for this mess, not Julian. He didn’t sabotage you; he didn’t cheat. Don’t make him the scapegoat here.

  I’m quiet as Julian tugs me over to meet his parents. He doesn’t notice. “Hello, mother, father,” he says, shaking the older man’s hand. “I didn’t realize you were coming down.”

  Julian’s father is tall and distinguished looking, with a head of grey hair and piercing blue eyes. Julian’s mother is dressed in beige khakis and a lavender cardigan, and she doesn’t have a hair out of place. Both of them have that unmistakable aura that rich people have.

  “It was a last-minute decision,” his mother says as Julian kisses her cheek. “We ran into Ward at the club. He said you were in a competition of some kind.”

  “Sausages,” his father says, the disgust clear in his voice. “You could have been a partner at Barns Concino Foley, and instead, you’re making sausages.”

  His words pierce my gloom. It's clear that his parents think that he is wasting his time. My temper spikes. With difficulty, I say nothing, settling for squeezing Julian’s hand.

  “I find it rewarding,”
Julian says calmly.

  “You find it rewarding to cook on stage at some pitiful county fair in front of all these people, like a performing monkey?”

  Holy fuck. He’s got to be kidding me. What a dick thing to say.

  Julian doesn’t react. “I was a performing monkey in court too,” he replies easily. “This way, at least I feed people.”

  His father opens his mouth to say something scathing, and I can’t bite my tongue any longer. I cut in. “Julian's absolutely brilliant. In just a year, he's become a pillar of the community. He's built a successful business. He supplies half the restaurants in the area. It took me three years to be in the black, and Julian's done it in less than a year. He's effortlessly good at everything he does.” I give them a bright smile. “You must be so proud of your son.”

  His mother’s gaze snaps to me. She gives me a ‘who-the-hell-are-you’ look. “We are, of course, proud of Julian,” she says stiffly. She holds out her hand to me. “I'm Susan King,” she says.

  Julian's arm goes around my waist, and he pulls me close. “Mother, father, I'd like you to meet my girlfriend, Dakota Wilde.”

  For a second, shock pulses through me. Then warmth floods in.

  Girlfriend.

  I like the way that sounds.

  Julian feels me stiffen. He gives me a questioning look, and I realize he’s nervous. He’s actually nervous about my reaction.

  I smile at him. The fear that has clamped around me eases its iron grip. I'm his girlfriend. Things will work out. Maybe I just need to have a little bit of Julian’s optimism.

  Both his parents give me speculative looks, and then his mother smiles at me. “It's very good to meet you, Dakota,” she says, her tone noticeably warmer. “Julian, I didn't know you were dating anyone.”

  “I'm dating someone,” he replies blandly. “Are you guys up for the day, or you staying? I have a spare bedroom. You're welcome to it.”

  His father starts to say something about a hotel reservation. My attention wanders. I can see my mother and my brother out of the corner of my eye. Sandra Flanigan is looking at the way Julian’s holding my hand, and the expression on her face is intensely curious.

  Oh God.

  We’ve just started dating. Julian called me his girlfriend for the first time today. I’m not ready for the meeting of the parents. It’s too much, too soon.

  I mutter an excuse and head toward my mother. She tilts her head to one side. “Are you dating Julian?” she asks directly.

  “Yes, I am.”

  “You are?” Dominic cuts in.

  He sounds disapproving. I frown at him. What the hell? My brother has never once interfered in my life. What’s gotten into him now? “I thought you liked Julian,” I say mildly.

  “Sure, I like King. I don't like the situation. The two of you are pitted against each other in this stupid contest. What's going to happen when one of you loses next week?”

  Ah. Dom's my twin; we think alike. “It'll be fine,” I tell him, desperately hoping that it’s the truth. “Things will work out.”

  “How?” he asks bluntly. “How exactly will things work out if you lose? How will you make your mortgage payments if you can’t expand your restaurant?”

  I don't know. Dom’s words hit every raw place in my heart with unerring precision. “It'll work out.”

  My mother is watching me, her keen eyes absorbing everything. Dom takes a deep breath. “Dakota, I'm happy about your relationship. I like King. Even if I didn’t like King, it wouldn’t matter, as long as you like him. But look at the people he’s with. They’re his parents, right?”

  I nod. “And they’re rich, right?” he asks.

  Dom doesn’t miss much. “They’re both partners at law firms,” I reply tonelessly. “I’m guessing they do okay.”

  “King grew up rich,” he says. “Rich people don’t think about money the same way we do, Dakota. Does he even realize how screwed you’d be if you don’t win this contest? If he cares about you, why’s he still competing?”

  I don’t have answers to any of Dom’s questions. “It’ll work out,” I repeat stubbornly.

  Everything Dominic is saying is right. I am burying my head in the sand. I don't want to rock the boat, because things are really good with Julian. But I do need to have a hard conversation with him.

  And then what? Look at Julian’s parents. They’ve dismissed everything he’s built. Of course, he’s going to want to win. He’s going to want to show them what he’s capable of.

  I don't want him to drop out. This is important to him. But it’s important to me too. If we talk, we might be able to find a way forward.

  So far, every time I bring up the topic, Julian assures me that things will work out.

  But how? I don’t see a way out of this mess, and this is too important for me to take on faith. Julian’s not the one who’s facing imminent financial hardship; I am.

  My mother puts her hand on Dom’s forearm. “Let it go,” she says quietly. “Dakota is an adult.” She pats me on the back. “We’re here for you, honey.”

  My brother looks mutinous. “I don’t disagree with you,” I tell him. “Julian and I will sort this out before the finals.”

  “Okay.”

  I watch the two of them walk back to the parking lot. Julian and I are good together. We’re both reasonable adults. Surely, we can work this out.

  He’s been in one relationship that’s longer than three months. You’ve been in zero. Are you sure things will be fine?

  I'm about to rejoin Julian and his parents when somebody taps my shoulder. I turn around, and it's Roger Wexler, smiling his oily smile at me. “Dakota. That was close back there.”

  I’m too tightly wound to be polite. “What you want, Roger?”

  “You're going to be in a world of hurt next week,” he says. “Neil Silver told me you called him, looking for a way out of your deal. I've always had a soft spot for you, Dakota. I'm going to bail you out. I’ll buy the Silver place from you.”

  Trust Wexler to spin this as an act of charity. “You will, will you?”

  “Yes, I will. I heard the message you left on Silver’s machine. You don't think you can win, Dakota, and I don't blame you. You’re outclassed. Look at the stunt Marvin Hale pulled off today.”

  I keep quiet and let him talk.

  “And then, there's King. He doesn't like to lose.” He shakes his head at me. “You're in a relationship with him,” he says. “It’s cute, the way the two of you were holding hands. You think that’ll make him back away?”

  “Roger, if you think I'm going to take relationship advice from you, you are very mistaken.”

  He continues as if I haven't spoken. “King wants to win. Do you know how much money he's poured into the Shepperd place?”

  “That was before the contest.”

  “Is that what you think?” he sneers. “Because the place got a new coat of paint today. The moment Ben Watanabe is done with your job, he's going back to The Frozen Spoon. I saw the permit. They’re ripping down interior walls and making the main floor one big open space.”

  They are?

  “You don't have to take my word for it,” Wexler continues relentlessly. “Talk to Ben, or, drive by The Frozen Spoon. You'll see what I'm talking about.”

  My heart clenches. What exactly does Julian mean when he says everything is going to be okay? Is that just some kind of platitude he is giving me in order to soothe my feelings? Does he really think we could continue to be together if he wins the contest and I lose? Is he pouring money into The Frozen Spoon in anticipation of his eventual victory?

  Bile rises in my throat.

  “I'll make you an offer,” Wexler says. “What did you pay for that place? Six hundred? I'll give you four-fifty. Think about it, Dakota. You can either lose more than half a million dollars, or you can be out one hundred and fifty.”

  I stare at the man. Wexler smirks at me. He knows he has me in a bind.

  “Go to hell, Roger.” />
  Anger flashes in his eyes. “You think I’m scum, is that it? You think I’m low-balling you, the way I low-balled Mrs. Shepperd? And you think King’s some kind of angel for rescuing Beth Shepperd from my clutches?” He laughs shortly. “Think about it. At the end of the day, Beth Shepperd is still being forced out of her business.”

  I turn on my heel and walk away. He calls out after me. “I'll keep the offer open until Wednesday, Dakota. Don't be a fool. There’s no other way out.”

  Julian is still talking to his parents.

  I have a pounding headache, and a sudden urge to flee. I walk toward them to make my excuses and get the hell out of here, and then I overhear a snippet of their conversation. “Only one person can win this contest,” Fredrick King says. “This is set up for disaster, Julian. You do realize that if you win, you're not going to keep the girl.”

  “I know what I'm doing,” Julian replies. “I don’t lose.”

  That's his answer. Julian King doesn't lose.

  Tears filled my eyes; I furiously blink them away. I cannot be here. I cannot go with Julian and have a drink with his parents, and pretend everything is all right, because it isn't.

  I need to be alone right now.

  26

  Julian

  “Only one person can win this contest,” my father says, getting to the heart of the matter with his typical directness. “This is set up for disaster, Julian. You do realize that if you win, you're not going to keep the girl.”

  I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Yes, of course I realize that. I'm not an idiot.

  “I know what I'm doing,” I tell him. “I don't lose. This isn’t about the contest, and it’s not about the permit. That’s not what I’m fighting for. Dakota’s the prize.” I hold up my hand as my mother opens her mouth to give me a lecture about the patriarchy. “And yes, I’m perfectly aware that Dakota is a person with thoughts and feelings, and not a prize to be won. It’s a figure of speech. Dakota’s important. Everything else is a distraction.”