Page 24 of Cowboys & Hot Sauce
His eyes finally met mine, doubt mixing with a flicker of something warmer.
"When I said, 'after the competition, it will be all over,' I was talking about the uncertainty with MeeMaw and the restaurant," I explained. "Not us."
Burke's hands stilled on his hat. "So you weren't just using me as part of some strategy?"
The question hurt, but I understood why he'd ask it. "No. I wasn't."
A flush crept up his neck. "I thought... I don't know what I thought."
The quiet between us was heavy. I wanted to say more, to ask if what had been building between us was real for him too, but pride and uncertainty held me back. If he'd thought so little of me, that I'd just manipulate him and walk away...
He ran a hand through his hair, knocking his hat askew. "I've never been good at this part. Numbers make sense. People..." He shook his head. "When I heard what you said on the phone, it just confirmed what I've always figured—that someone like you wouldn't be interested in someone like me for real."
"Someone like me?" I echoed.
"Creative. Full of life," he said. "The girl who painted the high school mascot on the water tower just to make people smile. Who never met a rule she didn't want to bend. You and me—we're opposites, Scarlet."
I looked down at my hands, not sure what to say. Were we really so different? Or was he just looking for reasons to cut and run after last’s night kiss?
"I need some time to think," he said finally. "This weekend has been... a lot."
My stomach dropped, but I nodded. "I understand."
Burke tugged his hat back into place and moved toward the door. "For what it's worth," he said, pausing with his hand on the handle, "I'm proud of you. For the competition. For everything."
Then he was gone, leaving me alone in my food truck with a championship sauce, a five-thousand-dollar check, and the hollow feeling that winning meant nothing if I'd lost him in the process.
Through the service window, I watched Burke's tall figure disappear into the festival crowd. The trophy beside me caught the sunlight, seeming to mock me.
"Stubborn cowboy," I muttered, even as my eyes started burning.
I leaned against the counter, trying to untangle the mess of feelings inside me. For the first time in my life, I didn't want to run when things got complicated. I wanted to stay and see this through. But the ball was in his court now.
Either Burke Tate would realize what was right in front of him, or I'd have to accept that some recipes, no matter how promising, just ended up being hot messes.
Chapter Eight
Burke
The midday sun beat down on the fairgrounds as I methodically disassembled the dunking booth. Metal components clinked against each other as I sorted them into piles—brackets here, bolts there, framework in a neat stack ready for loading. The rhythmic work gave my hands something to do while my mind churned over yesterday's events on an endless loop.
Scarlet's voice echoed in my head:"That wasn't about you—well, not the way you think."
Had I really misunderstood everything so completely? The thought made my insides knot up like poorly strung barbed wire. I'd built a life on being cautious, on double-checking every figure before filing, on never taking a leap without first testing the ground beneath. And yet I'd completely misread the balance sheet where it mattered most.
"That bolt's not getting any tighter, brother."
I startled, realizing I'd been wrenching the same connection for a solid minute. Rhett stood a few feet away, his hat tipped back, watching me with an expression I rarely saw on my youngest brother's face—genuine concern.
"Just making sure it's secure," I muttered, finally releasing the wrench.
Rhett leaned against what remained of the booth frame. "Saw you coming out of Scarlet's food truck earlier. You looked like someone who just lost the high bid at the county auction."
I focused on gathering the smaller components into a toolbox, not meeting his eyes. "It's nothing."
"Bullshit." The word was delivered without heat, just simple certainty. "You've been sweet on Scarlet Landry since she first asked you to help her with algebra in high school. Now you two are finally together, and suddenly you're walking around like your prize bull just went sterile."
My hands stilled. Of course Rhett would see through the act—he might play the carefree charmer, but he missed nothing. I straightened up, swiping my forearm across my forehead where sweat had gathered despite the shade of my hat.
