Tori took a break from assisting with deliveries for a few days to see if she could come up with a new strategy to appease Penny. How could her work as a social marketer get more clients? Apparently “special projects” was more than securing local honey resources and edible flowers. She now had to broaden the scope of PnK’s sales reach.

She scrolled through a Pinterest board looking for marketing inspiration.

She was grateful to not have put in an appearance in the kitchens of the Napa Grand Hotel the day after the non-date, helping Karen with trays of veggies. Penny had put Miguel, her senior grower, on deliveries. She wanted to give him a chance to talk to the clients, see if they were getting what they needed. He would find out if there were other vegetables that PnK needed to add into their mix—talk shop. Meanwhile, Tori could focus on how to save her job and not have a panic attack over having to see Les again.

The obvious idea, to Tori at least, was to host a booth at the local farmer’s market. At all of them, actually. PnK had never done direct to consumer sales. Their produce wasn’t typically “pretty enough” for the mass consumer. Maybe that could be a selling point? True beauty was on the inside, which was one of the mottos Tori tried to live by.

Then again, that could be why Les hadn’t shown up. Maybe he didn’t date in her size range. That had certainly happened to her more than once. Some guys were nice about it, others not so much. Well, screw him and his preconceptions. She didn’t need to meet his beauty standards to be beautiful.

She needed inspiration and motivation, some of those mottos she had pinned and regularly posted for herself. She was cute, she was funny, she made an effort to be fashionable. But there was always going to be a Josh Stevens in her world to remind her that her size did not conform to their brainwashed expectations.

Beauty standards. That would be her angle! Wasn’t there a campaign in Europe by some grocery store for ugly fruits? A few false starts on an Internet search, and Tori found it. Inglorious Fruits and Vegetables, a direct result of the 2014 European Union initiative against food waste. Moreover, reduced food waste fit right in with sustainability and direct to table. This would definitely appeal to Penny.

Her fingers hovered above the keyboard, she had to think this through. She pushed her laptop aside, flipped open a notebook, and found a stack of sticky notes. What did she need to do to make this happen? She started making lists. Research, applications, time tables, displays, equipment. She created a sticky for each title.

She flipped the page in her notebook and stuck a note at the top of the page, one for each category. She rearranged her notes several times before her master list was ready. Tori pulled the laptop back and woke it up. Were her Google-fu skills up to the challenge?

Tori located all the local farmer’s markets in the valley. There were plenty. She even found some in areas a little farther out, and in the next valley over. She created a spreadsheet with name of the market, locations, days and dates they were open, contact information, booth fees, and how many visitors on average. There were enough markets that PnK could have a booth every day of the week if they wanted. She made sure to bookmark all the links for the applications.

A question dawned on her as she began her next search for a display. How much produce would they need? And what kind of profit margin would make this beneficial to Penny? She pulled the notebook over and jotted down more notes. Maybe she could find answers for those later.

Displays and equipment were next on her list. They would need a tent, they would need bins and bags, and scales, and…

There was a lot to be done before she even thought about putting together a presentation for Penny.

Tori leaned back in the chair and squeezed her head together. This felt like one of those semester long school assignments, where her entire grade hung in the balance. Well maybe…

Tori grabbed her phone and quickly texted both Erin and Ali. Margaritas tonight? I’m going to be in need of tequila.

***

Tequila surged up Tori’s nose. She was mad at the man, so of course he would go and do something like this. It was not fair, not fair at all.

She coughed and sputtered as Les strode into the bar at Carnita Joe’s.

Erin patted her on the back. “Are you okay?”

Tori nodded. She was glad he hadn’t witnessed that, but ow. She wanted to ogle, but damn, if frozen margarita up the nose didn’t hurt. Her eyes watered as she buried her face in a napkin.

Yet she did not want to take her eyes from him.

He looked like some kind of rockstar. She never realized how tall Les was until she saw him towering over his friends. Was that Miguel? Well, crap, it was. She never really thought of Miguel as anything other than the guy at work who knew everything about anything they grew, but clearly he had a life outside of work. He didn’t look like a rocker, though. He didn’t even look like he belonged in the same band, in his baggy jeans and long grey dress shirt with only the top three buttons done. Les… Les wore a—

“Oh em gee, Les is wearing a kilt. Did you see that?” Erin asked.

Tori pointed to her face and nodded. “That’s why I snorted margarita out my nose.”

“Someone should tell him he looks ridiculous,” Erin continued.

Someone should tell him I no longer seem to have panties on. Poof, they’re gone. Tori agreed he looked ridiculous, ridiculously gorgeous. His black hair was slicked back, wet based on the tell-tale damp patches on his shirt. His eyes could have been rimmed with eyeliner, but Tori was pretty certain that was just because his eyelashes were insanely thick and long. No, Les’s appearance tonight hadn’t choked her up because she was laughing at him. His look tonight made her brain cease functioning.

Could she even go over and talk to him? She wasn’t dressed to impress, still in her work clothes, though she had taken off the chambray over-shirt with the Peaz'n'Karrit's logo. Her jeans that may be a skosh too tight and silly T-shirt with laser cats and unicorns was an outfit for working on a computer, not for hanging out at a bar. She should have changed. How could she, in jeans and a tee, approach Les, who was dressed to the nines in a black kilt and a light blue vintage tux shirt with black piping along the collar and front ruffles? Damn, in ruffles and baby blue, he looked so damned fine she could hardly stand it.

Right, she was mad at him, that was how she could go over and talk to him.

Les leaned against the bar as Miguel was distracted by some tourist. Now was her chance.

“I’ll be right back,” she announced as she slid from her chair. “If Maria comes back, get me a Coke. I think I’m done with margaritas for the night.” She might be done with them forever if they were going to attack her like that again.

Tori stalked across the bar and stopped in front of Les, arms folded. “I thought you were gonna meet me the other night?” she asked without any preamble.

“Hola Tori.” Les righted himself. She noticed his accent when he spoke Spanish. Things in her body quivered but stopped as he gave her an up and down body scan.

She huffed and put her hands on her hips. “You did not just do that.”

Les quirked a half grin at her. Damn, this was hard.

“Why not? You’re checking me out.”

“I was checking your outfit out. You just happen to be in it.” She could feel her face flush. “Wearing a kilt is a bold choice. I don’t think it’s something I expected of you.” She stopped herself from reaching forward to catch the edge of one of the pockets near the side of his hip. “It’s a good one, too, one of those utility ones.”

Les smirked. “Aren’t you going to ask what I have on under it?”

Tori shook her head. Nothing. You have nothing under it because you are the kind of guy who has the balls to wear a kilt to begin with, so you’re going to be the kind of guy who wears it traditionally. Besides, you’re in a kilt in a bar. Probably going for the easy access. She let her eyes trail down Les’s front and stopped when she got to his boots. She lifted her gaze to peer up at him through her lashes. They weren’t nearly as long as his, even with lash plumping mascara. “Boots. You’re wearing boots underneath.”

Les laughed. He reached forward and clapped Tori on the shoulder.

Damn, a shoulder pat. That meant she was out of the running for gaining access, no matter how easy.

“Man, I’m sorry about the burgers. I totally forgot. Hang out and have a beer with me and mi primo. You know Miguel, right?”

Tori’s gut clenched. He had just brushed off their date completely. Well, that was better than reactions she had gotten in the past. Fine, if that’s how he wanted to deal with it.

“Hey, Miguel, I didn’t realize you two were related. I can’t stay. I’m with my friends”—Tori pointed with her thumb over her shoulder—“but maybe next time. Or you guys can come over to our table.”

Les nodded. “Yeah, maybe.”

Tori turned and crashed into Maria carrying a refill basket of chips. Chips spilled everywhere and crunched into her back.

“I am so sorry. Are you all right?” Tori asked as she bent to pick up the baskets.

“Yeah, it’s fine. I’m so sorry, all my fault,” Maria said.

“Maria, watch where you’re going,” Les chastised the waitress and continued saying something in Spanish.

Maria responded with a torrent of rapid Spanish. Tori may not have understood the words, but that attitude could not be missed. Maria was not going to take any of Les’s guff tonight.

Les replied with a hardy laugh, and something else Tori didn’t understand.

Tori wished, not for the first time, that she had learned a second language. She suppressed a shiver. Les’s accent was doing things she didn’t need right now.

Maria rolled her eyes, and gave Tori a big grin. She tilted her head back at Les and called him “Idiota.”

“It was a mutual crash.” Tori handed Maria the baskets and flicked chip crumbs from her shirt.

“You have some on your back too.” Les spun her around and began wiping off her back. He leaned in and whispered in her ear. “You know, Tori, you should wear jeans more often. Your butt looks good in these.” His hand lightly slapped across her lower back, or was that really more top of butt?

Tori closed her eyes and prayed she wasn’t blushing too hard, Les was touching her butt.