The Texan's Second Chance. Allie Pleiter
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with the ranch and store sites,” Witt answered. Ellie did all the public relations for the consumer side, and the wholesale piece had been up and fully running without a hitch. “Two-thirds of your customers have converted to the online ordering system, and I’ll be visiting the rest after we get the truck settled in. We’re ready.”
“And the social media? Twitter, Facebook, Insta-whatever, all that stuff?” Gunner asked.
“Instagram. Yes, we’ll be hitting all that at full speed as soon as Jana gives the all clear,” Ellie explained. “And Jose said he’d help, too. That kid would cut off his own arm before he’d put down his cell phone.”
“We agreed—after a lively discussion, mind you—on a soft opening,” Witt went on. “Showing up unannounced at a variety of places until we both are sure the product and the system are perfect.”
“How close are you?” Gunner asked.
Witt took another biscuit himself. “That depends on who you ask. There was some debate—” he gave the word emphasis as he looked at Ellie “—as to the merits of long lines.”
“Long lines?” Gunner questioned.
“I think long lines are great marketing. Makes you look like you’re in demand.”
Ellie raised an eyebrow. “And Jana?”
“She says a line can be long enough to put someone off. We settled on a goal of no more than six people waiting for the first two weeks, with an option to renegotiate.”
Ellie frowned. “I know you. You’ve calculated a burger-per-hour profit ratio, haven’t you?”
Witt stalled. “Well...maybe. We do need some benchmarks to shoot for. You can’t tell me you didn’t have goals like that back at GoodEats.”
Ellie’s expression told Witt just what she thought of such goals. “You’ve got nothing to worry about,” she said. “That woman knows her stuff. You’ve already arranged to shoot some photos and videos the first week, haven’t you? I predict Jana’s going to be a hit.”
“Like our burgers,” Gunner chimed in.
“Exactly like our burgers,” Witt agreed.
There was a pause in the conversation before Gunner shifted uncomfortably in his chair and said, “Your mom called.” He said it softly, slowly, which told Witt he knew exactly what the admission implied.
“No kidding.” Witt said. “Checking up on me now that I’ve jumped the family ship?”
“I told her you’d only jumped to a related shipping line. But yes.” Gunner ran a hand across his chin. “She said your dad asked a lot of questions.”
“What’d you tell her?”
“The truth,” Gunner replied. “I told her Star Beef’s loss was our gain. I told her I think Uncle Grayson will regret letting you leave.”
“I still don’t think he gets it,” Ellie offered with compassion in her eyes. They’d talked long and hard about his moving to Blue Thorn. Ellie knew what it was like to grow up with fathers like the Buckton brothers and how chilly it could be in the shadow of the Eldest and Heir. His sister Mary had always been the eldest, but Witt had always dared to think he was at least partial heir to the ranch until Mary’s high-powered husband, Cole Sullivan, entered the picture.
“Oh, I know. Dad thinks I ought to be thrilled to fall in line under Cole’s breathtaking five-year plan.” The bitterness in his own voice surprised him—Witt thought he’d made more peace with the issue than that. “It’s not a bad plan,” he admitted. “It’s just that I’m not anywhere in it.”
“Gran grabbed the phone out of my hand and gave your mom a piece of her mind,” Gunner said with a smirk.
“I’d like to have been there for that.” Witt could just picture Gran telling off her daughter-in-law. She’d have told off her son in stronger terms, come to think of it. Some days it was hard to imagine how two men as hardheaded as Gunner and Grayson Buckton had been the sons of the tender, caring woman all the cousins called Gran. Then again his grandmother Adele Buckton had a hard head and a stubborn will of her own to match her big heart—she just had the grace and compassion to be a lot more forgiving. “Gran will like Jana. They’re made of the same stuff, I think.”
“I agree,” Ellie said, leaning in. “Why don’t you invite her out to the house for a barbecue this weekend? She can meet the whole family. And see the bison.” She suddenly reached for her handbag, rummaging through it until she produced her cell phone. “Never mind, I’ll text her myself right now.” After a minute of furious typing, Ellie smiled. “Done. Six o’clock, Saturday night. Jana’s bringing coleslaw. You have not lived until you’ve tasted this woman’s coleslaw.”
* * *
Jana looked around the ranch Saturday night, taking in the scene spread out before her. She and Ellie were acquaintances—not good friends but friendly enough back when they’d worked together in Atlanta—but even though they hadn’t been especially close, Jana had heard a few stories about the legendary Buckton family. Nothing had prepared her for this.
“You know,” she said as she helped Ellie with a tablecloth, “I sort of get the whole color thing now.” She’d seen the Buckton blue eyes before, of course, but seeing Gunner, Ellie, Grandmother Adele and Witt all together in one place, the family trait stood out like a neon sign. She’d tried not to fixate on the stunning nature of Witt’s eyes, but with his hair—Gunner and Ellie had tawny-colored hair but Witt’s was a darker shade, closer to brown—they were extraordinary. It made her disobedient brown curls and brown eyes feel mundane.
“I hated my eyes growing up,” Ellie offered, shrugging. “Everywhere I went in town, everybody knew I was a Buckton, and I didn’t always think that was such a good thing. Now,” she said, her eyes straying to the man she’d introduced as her fiancé, “I find myself hoping that when Nash and I have kids, the blue shows up. At least in some of them.”
“I’m glad it all worked out so well for you,” Jana said. She remembered how worried she’d been about Ellie when she’d heard about the woman’s spectacular breakup with star chef Derek Harding. Not that Jana blamed her—if she’d caught her own fiancé kissing her best friend, she didn’t know what she would have done. At least Ellie had had a place to go—back home to Blue Thorn. And it was Ellie’s exodus from the trauma that she had to thank for the chance to meet Nash.
Jana was glad to make her own exodus away from Atlanta and the painful memories of Ronnie, even if it did mean leaving Mom behind. “I suppose I even owe my job to that happy outcome.”
“I hope you get a happy outcome of your own. I think you’ll do fabulously at the wheel of the Big Blue Bus.”
Jana balked. “The Big Blue Bus?”
“Oh, that’s just what my niece, Audie, called it the first time Witt brought it around. It sort of stuck. Don’t tell Witt—he hates the nickname. It’s the Blue Thorn Burgers truck—and maybe the first of many—as far as Witt’s concerned. Has big dreams, our Witt does. He can be a bit too driven, if you ask me, but I think he’ll settle down.”
The last thing I need right now is another overdriven male, Lord. Keep me safe out here, Jana prayed as she began walking around the table setting out plates—turquoise plates. She caught Witt’s eye when she first saw them. He shrugged as if to say, I know what you said about eating off blue plates, but what are you gonna do?
“Did you like the chef’s coat?” Ellie asked, planting a big blue jug of yellow flowers in the center of the table. See? Jana wanted to say to Witt. See how yellow balances all that blue out?
“I’ve been meaning to thank you,” Jana replied. “It’s perfect. Really, just the right touch. The embroidery, the female fit, everything.”
Ellie smiled. “You’re welcome. I didn’t