4 A Pizza the Action (Street Food Cozies Book 4)


 
 
 
 
 A PIZZA THE ACTION
 STREET FOOD COZIES, BOOK 4
 
 
 
 GRETCHEN ALLEN
 
 
 
 SUMMER PRESCOTT BOOKS PUBLISHING
 
 Copyright 2023 Summer Prescott Books
 All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication nor any of the information herein may be quoted from, nor reproduced, in any form, including but not limited to: printing, scanning, photocopying, or any other printed, digital, or audio formats, without prior express written consent of the copyright holder.
 **This book is a work of fiction. Any similarities to persons, living or dead, places of business, or situations past or present, is completely unintentional.
 
 
 CONTENTS
 Chapter 1
 Chapter 2
 Chapter 3
 Chapter 4
 Chapter 5
 Chapter 6
 Chapter 7
 Chapter 8
 Chapter 9
 Chapter 10
 Also by Gretchen Allen
 Author’s Note
 Contact Gretchen Allen
 
 
 CHAPTER 1
 Billie Halifax sat in her favorite chair in the middle of her small living room. She could hear the wind and the rain pelting the exterior of her tiny house. For the first time since arriving on the small island southwest of the Florida coastline, she wondered how bad of a storm was actually coming her way.
 She watched the large Tibetan Mastiff she had inherited after his owner’s unfortunate death, pace up and down the length of her home. Animals have a sixth sense for such things and by the way the dog was acting, Billie was certain something bad was coming. Already, she had learned to leave the barn door that hung between her bedroom and the rest of the house open. Otherwise, the dog would stand in front of it and bark until it was opened.
 Billie looked up and glanced at the digital clock on her stove. “It’s two o’clock in the morning, Waffles,” she said to the still pacing dog. “At this point, I say let the storm come and sweep us away!” She stood up and checked the windows once more. Under the parking lot lights that dotted the festival grounds in the middle of Sea Glass Island where she lived and worked, she could see the wind blowing the rain, but the trees were not bending from the pressure of the wind. That had to be a good sign.
 “Yeah, yeah,” she said to the dog as he walked past her to the front door where he stopped and whined. “You can’t possibly want to go out there right now. It’s pouring rain.”
 Waffles whined once more; this time somehow seeming more pathetic. By the way he was acting, Billie was sure he’d rather be outside in his mansion of a doghouse than inside with her.
 “I’m sorry I’m not better at this, buddy,” she said. “You’d think I’d know how to handle things having lived in Florida during culinary school.” In reality, she’d never had any bad weather hit back then, so she had no idea what to expect. She knew from the news that it wasn’t a hurricane, but with how scary it sounded outside, she wasn’t so sure she believed what the weatherman had to say.
 The dog passed by her again without comment. “You know what, Waffles?” Billie threw her arms over her head. “You go on and wear a trench in the floor.” She tossed a small throw pillow at the dog when he scampered past her again, missing him by a yard, and trotted off to her bed. She left the dog to his pacing and flopped down, covering her head with her pillow.
 Billie tried to ignore the click clack of the dog’s toenails over her wood floor. She forced herself to think of the finer details of the new food truck she expected to be up and ready for its debut over the weekend when a large car show would overtake the festival grounds. Her new truck manager was due to arrive later in the day. Before that, she had plans to travel across the bridge to the mainland with Rhonda Knapp, her late grandmother’s friend, where she would see the redesigned panel truck for the first time since the specialized wood fired brick oven had been installed. Nolan Wiggins, the man hired to remodel all of the food trucks, had told her the truck had to be sent out for the specialty installation. Billie hardly wanted to wait until the pizza truck arrived back on the island to see it.
 No matter how hard she tried to distract herself to sleep, the dog’s constant walking and whining at the front door kept her from succumbing. “Fine!” She threw back the covers and pitched her pillow to the side. “I’ve had enough of this, Waffles!” She almost fell when she jumped out of her bed and stomped out of her room.
 “I can’t believe I’m doing this.” She walked to the front door and sucked in a breath, not wanting to open it. Before she knew it, Waffles was by her side with his nose pressed against the door. He trotted in place and looked back at her. She sighed and opened the door.
 Waffles dashed outside and ran in circles a few times before racing toward his dog house. Billie couldn’t believe how his mood had changed. She gazed at him for a bit longer, the rain and wind pelting her entire body. His house really was a mini mansion. After Travis’s death, she’d learned that none of his other relatives or friends were willing or able to take Waffles on, so she had gone over a hundred miles inland to find a massive dog house for him, complete with lights and a working heater.
 Once she was satisfied that Waffles was okay, Billie shut the door. As soon as she took a step, her feet flew out from under her. She landed in a puddle of rain water that had blown in while the door was open.
 “One point to Waffles.” She pulled herself up with the help of the kitchen counter,