Page 12 of Cowboys & Hot Sauce
I settled onto the seat, trying to look dignified in my jeans and button-down shirt. Scarlet was right—the gossip mill would be working overtime today, but somehow, seeing her animated face as she rallied the crowd made it worth it.
"First up," she announced, "Mrs. Thornton! Three balls to dunk the man who balanced the town's festival budget three years running!"
Mrs. Thornton's first two throws went wide, but her third struck just left of the target.
"Close!" Scarlet encouraged. "Who's next?"
For fifteen minutes, various townsfolk tried their luck. Some came close, but the seat remained stable. Then Scarlet stepped up, a softball in her hand and determination in her eyes.
"I think it's time," she declared to the cheering crowd.
"You wouldn't," I called down to her.
Her smile was pure wickedness. "For the firefighters, Burke."
She wound up with surprising grace and let the ball fly. It struck the target dead center with a satisfying clang, and the seat dropped out from under me. I plunged into the water with a splash that sent ripples over the edge of the tank.
The cold water shocked my system momentarily, but as I surfaced, I heard Scarlet's delighted laughter above the crowd's cheers. Water down my face and clothes as I climbed out, but I couldn't bring myself to be annoyed—not when her bright eyes shone with such genuine joy.
"I should go change," I said, water pooling at my feet.
"Meet me at the food truck in an hour?" she asked, handing me a towel. "For the lunch rush."
"I'll be there," I promised.
Back at the ranch, I showered quickly and changed into dry clothes, my thoughts scattered like cattle. This wasn't supposed to be happening. The arrangement was meant to be simple—pretend to date, convince her grandmother she was serious about getting settled, help her save the restaurant. I wasn't supposed to be developing real feelings.
But I was.
When I returned to the festival, the midday heat had intensified, making the asphalt shimmer. Scarlet's food truck was busy, a line stretching several yards. I slipped around back and tapped on the service door.
"Reinforcements have arrived," I called.
She opened the door, relief washing over her face. "Thank goodness. We're slammed."
For the next two hours, we moved around each other in the tight confines of the food truck. Scarlet crafted orders with quick, sure hands—adding just the right dash of seasonings, plating with an artist's touch, calling out updates without missing a beat. I kept the register humming, organized the tickets by pickup time, and made sure customers moved smoothly through the line. Despite the midday rush, we fell into a rhythm together, anticipating each other's needs before a word was spoken. When I noticed a sauce bottle running low, she'd already reached for the backup. When she needed more serving containers, I'd have them ready.
When the rush finally ebbed, Scarlet collapsed onto a small stool and stretched her back, arching her arms over her head.
"You were amazing," I said, genuinely impressed. "The way you kept track of all those orders while still chatting up every customer..."
She smiled, pushing a loose strand of hair from her face. "And you kept everything running like clockwork. We make a good team."
The words hung between us, loaded with possibilities neither of us acknowledged.
"We've got about an hour or so before the next rush," she said, checking her watch. "Want to grab some lunch ourselves? Maybe see some of the festival?"
The Ferris wheel caught my eye through the serving window, its colorful cars spinning lazily against the blue sky."How about a ride? I could use a break from solid ground after that dunking."
Her eyes lit up. "Perfect."
The line for the Ferris wheel was mercifully short. We climbed into a blue car painted with stars, the metal warm from the sun. As we started to rise, Scarlet scooted closer until our thighs touched.
"For appearances," she whispered, though there was no one close enough to see.
I nodded, not trusting my voice. Higher we climbed, the fairgrounds spreading out below us—food stalls, game booths, families moving between attractions like colorful ants. The Texas landscape stretched beyond, golden fields shimmering in the distance.
The wheel creaked as we ascended, our car swaying slightly with each rotation. The mingled scents of cotton candy, caramel corn, and barbecue wafted up from below, tempered by the clean scent of Scarlet's perfume intensified in our close quarters.
