“Twitter?”
Chloe rolled her eyes at me. “God, no. Twitter is a dumpster fire. You and Neil should be doing cute baking videos and tutorials on every platform available. Maybe even showing a bit of your workout routines in addition to your recipes—talk about which baked goods pair best with different types of work out days.”
“Such as…” I paused, thinking. “On a heavy cardio day, try eating one of our peanut butter fat bombs an hour before a long run to fuel your workout?”
She snapped her fingers, pointing at me. “Exactly!” And what protein shakes do you drink? Do you have any tasty recipes?”
“Oh, God. Neil and I have dozens of protein shake recipes we could share.”
“There you go,” she said, smacking her palms to the table. Her eyes lit up brightly, a grin spreading over her beautiful mouth. “This is a bit more extensive, but if I were you, I’d also be looking to branch out. How do you monetize your fame with people on the other side of the country? People who loved your creations on the show, but will never travel from Oregon to New Hampshire? How do we monetize those people?”
She leaned in across the table and I couldn’t help but mirror her movements. It was like there was a magnet inside of her that was tugging me in. “Yeah… how?”
Her smile widened. “You could figure out a way to ship your baked goods in the United States. But you and Neil could also create a cookbook. Sell some of your recipes widely across the U.S.”
“But… won’t that cut into our sales here in the bakery?”
She snorted again and waved a hand. “No, no. People will always buy the real thing. They’ll try to recreate your cupcakes, but they won’t be totally successful. You saw my terrible unicorn cupcakes and that was with you right beside me baking, too. Plus, you’ll never reveal a handful of your best recipes. Those will only be available here for purchase.”
I fell back in my seat, staring at Chloe as she confidently grinned back at me. If those ideas were just off the cuff, imagine what she could come up with if she had time to pitch and create a year-long plan. “You’re hired,” I said.
Her confident smile slipped momentarily, my declaration catching her off guard. “I—I’m what?”
“You heard me. You’re hired. Neil and I are in over our heads here. And… you didn’t hear this from me, but Neil is leaving the country for a couple months on another gig.”
She nodded, frowning. “I heard.”
“Right.” Elaina told her. “Anyway, these ideas are incredible… but I don’t have the time or energy to keep running Beefcakes and implement them. We can afford to pay you and maybe working for us will help open some doors for other Maple Grove businesses who could use your consulting.”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “You’re serious?”
What was I doing? This was Chloe Dyker. My brother’s ex-girlfriend’s sister. The girl who I’d thought about more times than I’d like to admit since our make out session in high school, and I was inviting her to come work for me? Yeah, it was probably a crazy idea. And yet, I found myself nodding.
Shit. Neil didn’t even want to give her the damn leftover donuts. He was going to kill me for hiring her without consulting him first.
“On one condition…” she said.
I wasn’t sure she was in a position to negotiate when we hadn’t talked anything of contracts, fees, or hours yet. But I couldn’t help but wonder how her curious mind was working. What could her ‘one condition’ possibly be this early on?
“On top of helping you market Beefcakes, I want to help you develop a plan for your food truck.”
I rolled my eyes. “That’s your one condition?”
“My sister mentioned something the other night… and it gave me an idea. She said that she wished there was a food truck that delivered junk food when you were dumped. Things like donuts…” she lifted the donut in her hand. “And cheesecake. And maybe even the infamous Beefcakes cupcakes.”
“A food truck that serves junk food…” I repeated her, skeptically.
“To the specific target audience of people who’ve been dumped.” She spread her fingers into jazz hands and swept them across the air in front of my face like an invisible scroll. “Imagine… The Dump Truck.” She grinned at me. “What do you think?”
“I think… I think you’re kind of crazy.”
She rolled her eyes. “Well, that’s a given. But the idea is good. Admit it.”
I closed my eyes, imagining it. The Dump Truck. Not the most appetizing name. But it was funny. And cute. Much like Beefcakes, it would be catered to women, I’d imagine. Overhead would be lower than a traditional food truck because I wouldn’t have to cook anything in the truck. I could bake here on the premises and simply serve food out of the truck. It was… huh. I was surprised to admit, it was actually a pretty good idea.
I shook my head. “I can’t just steal your business concept, Chloe.”
“You won’t be stealing it. We could be partners,” she said, as though the thought only just occurred to her.
“Moments ago, you were talking about interviewing for marketing positions and maybe having to move out of Maple Grove.”
“That was before this idea hatched!” She stood pacing the bakery and tapping a cotton-candy-pink painted fingernail to her bottom lips. “You would handle the baking. I would take care of marketing and publicity. We would share the business work, like selling and accounting and taxes and stuff.”
“A working, used food truck or trailer is at least twelve thousand dollars,” I said. Even though I sounded doubtful, I could feel myself growing more and more excited by the prospect.
“Are you telling me that with the six-figures your brother won on the show, Beefcakes doesn’t have twelve thousand dollars to spare?”
I licked my lips, looking at the door
