Page 11 of Cowboys & Hot Sauce
Scarlet twirled the end of her braid around her finger, stealing a glance my way. "You never know, Rhett. Sometimes the right person's been there all along, just waitin' for you to notice."
"Like you two?" Rhett nudged me with his elbow, nearly making me spill my coffee. "Got to admit, never saw this comin', but it makes a weird kind of sense." He gave me a playful punch on the arm. "Burke's been needin' someone to ruffle his feathers for years. Lord knows I've tried, but seems he needed a prettier face for the job."
Scarlet's eyes found mine, a silent question dancing in them. The tips of my ears burned as I adjusted my hat brim. "Don't you have an information booth to get back to? Pretty sure Farrah's not getting paid to cover your shift."
"Trying to get rid of me already?" Rhett grinned but gathered a coffee and another scone. "Fine, I know when I'm third-wheeling. But this dunking booth needs a victim, and as one of the committee chairs, I officially volunteer you, brother."
"What?" I protested.
"First dunking of the day," Rhett called over his shoulder as he walked away. "Do it for your girlfriend!"
When he was out of earshot, I turned to Scarlet. "Sorry about him."
"Don't be," she said, arranging the remaining scones on a paper plate. "He's sweet. Besides, we pulled it off, right? He believes we're together."
"Right," I agreed, ignoring the unbalanced feeling in my chest at the reminder this was all pretend. "He believes it."
Scarlet glanced at the booth. "How can I help get this baby in working order?"
For the next hour, we worked side by side, filling the tank with water, testing the seat mechanism, and setting up a small table for ticket sales. The proceeds would go to Sweetwater's volunteer fire department, a cause close to my heart since they'd saved our barn during a lightning strike five years ago.
I found myself watching Scarlet from the corner of my eye as we worked. The way she hummed under her breath, the graceful movements of her hands, the determined set of her mouth when she concentrated— All of it made it impossible to look away.
"What?" she asked, catching me watching her.
"Nothing," I said quickly. "Just... thanks for helping."
She smiled, reaching out to adjust my hat where it had slipped lower over my eyes. "That's what girlfriends do, right?"
Her fingers brushed my forehead, sending a warmth spreading through me like sunshine through a barn window. I fought the urge to catch her hand in mine.
"Right," I replied.
We continued setting up, falling into a comfortable rhythm that felt strangely natural. Every so often, our hands would brush or our shoulders would touch, and each contact made me as unsteady as a fresh-broken colt. I wondered if she felt it too, or if I was imagining the lingering touches, the way her eyes sometimes held mine a moment too long.
"There," she said finally, stepping back to admire our work. "One dunking booth, ready to soak the most eligible bachelor in Sweetwater."
"I'm hardly that," I protested.
"Oh please," she scoffed. "Smart, handsome, responsible... any girl would be lucky to have you." Her cheeks flushed slightly. "I mean, that's what MeeMaw always said about you Tate boys."
Before I could respond, a small crowd began to gather near the booth. The festival was officially open for the day, and apparently, word had spread about the first dunking victim. I spotted Mrs. Thornton and Mrs. Dalton from the churchwhispering behind their hands, their eyes darting between Scarlet and me.
"Looks like you've got fans," Scarlet teased.
"More like they're hoping to see me embarrassed," I muttered.
"Well then," she said, pitching her voice louder, "we shouldn't disappoint them."
She slipped her arm through mine in a gesture that looked perfectly natural, though it made my pulse quicken. "Ladies and gentlemen," she called, "who wants to see Burke Tate get dunked?"
A cheer went up from the growing crowd.
"Three balls for five dollars," she continued, "all proceeds to our brave volunteer firefighters!"
Before I knew it, a line had formed. Scarlet slipped behind the ticket table, her eyes dancing with mischief as she sold ticket after ticket. I resigned myself to my fate and climbed the ladder to the seat above the tank.
"You're a good sport, Burke," Mayor Davidson called from the crowd. "That water's gonna feel mighty refreshing in this heat!"
