Page 11 of Cowboys & Hot Sauce (Festival of Hearts #5)

She settled against me, her cheek resting lightly on my chest. We drifted across the floor with the melody, and I found myself forgetting to count steps or worry about where to place my feet. For those few minutes, it was just us moving together like we'd been dancing for years.

"Burke," she murmured, her voice barely audible above the music.

"Hmm?"

"About what happened today... on the Ferris wheel..."

My pulse quickened. "When we almost—"

The final notes of the song faded, and couples around us began to separate as the band paused for a break. The spell broken, Scarlet stepped back, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"I could use something to drink," she said, her cheeks flushed. "It's warmer in here than I expected."

"Let's grab some lemonade," I agreed, trying not to show my disappointment at the interrupted moment.

We made our way toward the refreshment table at the edge of the dance floor. As I filled two cups, I noticed Scarlet's expression tighten. Following her gaze, I saw Bethany Sue Walker approaching, having just finished a conversation with Mayor Davidson across the room.

"Enjoying the dance?" Bethany Sue asked as she approached the refreshment table.

Her smile remained fixed in place as her eyes moved between us.

"Such a charming tradition, isn't it? Though I've been suggesting to the committee that we might update it next year with a proper catered affair.

" She leaned slightly closer, lowering her voice.

"Speaking of updates, I was just telling the mayor that my plans for Smokin' Lurline's are coming together beautifully.

It's just a matter of formality at this point.

Lurline's been quite receptive to my offer. "

"MeeMaw hasn't decided anything yet," Scarlet replied, her voice steady despite the tension visible in her shoulders.

"Bless your heart, Scarlet. We both know Smokin' Lurline's needs someone committed to Sweetwater.

Someone who can handle responsibility." Bethany Sue's smile was sharp as a carving knife.

"Not someone who treats the town like a motel—convenient for overnight stays between phases of whatever suits your fancy. "

I handed Scarlet her lemonade and shifted closer, my shoulder brushing against hers in silent support. "Scarlet's dedication to this town speaks for itself," I said, my voice cooler than the drinks in our hands. "And her grandmother would be lucky to have her running the restaurant."

Bethany Sue's gaze narrowed a fraction. "That's sweet as pie. But business is business, and sentiment doesn't pay the bills. My plans for modernizing the restaurant would bring it into this century—something Sweetwater desperately needs."

"What Sweetwater needs is to preserve what makes it special," I countered. "Not turn everything into some generic tourist trap with avocado toast on the menu."

"We'll see what Lurline thinks tomorrow evening after the competition," Bethany Sue said with a tight smile. "May the best sauce win, Scarlet." She walked away, her heels clicking precisely against the wooden floor.

Scarlet released a breath. "Thanks for the backup."

"She's wrong, you know," I said quietly. "About you and about what Smokin' Lurline's needs."

Is she?" Scarlet's eyes met mine, the confident spark I'd seen all evening momentarily dimmed. "MeeMaw still thinks I'm the same immature child I used to be who never stopped to think things through."

I turned to face her. "Then we need to show her you've changed."

"How?"

I studied her worried expression. "We need more than words to convince your grandmother. We need data, projections, actual numbers."

"What are you saying?"

"Come with me," I said, taking her hand and leading her toward the barn door. "I have an idea."

Outside, the night air had cooled ten degrees, a welcome relief from the heat of bodies in the barn.

Dots of light punctuated the darkness overhead, arranged in the familiar constellations I'd calculated the positions of since boyhood.

We walked in silence down the path behind the barn, past the parked trucks and toward a wooden fence that marked the edge of the property.

Scarlet leaned against the fence, looking out over the darkened fields.

In the distance, fireflies blinked like circuit lights, and the music from the barn drifted to us in muffled notes.

The moon illuminated her profile—the determined set of her jaw, the curve of her lips, the stray strand of hair that kept falling across her face despite her attempts to tuck it back.

"I could help you," I said finally.

"Help me what?"

"Put together a business plan. For taking over the grill." I leaned against the fence beside her, our shoulders almost touching. "Numbers, projections, marketing strategies—the kind of thing MeeMaw can't dismiss as impulsive."

She turned to look at me, surprise written across her face. "You'd do that?"

"Of course."

"But why? Our deal was just for the weekend, to help me look settled."

I searched for words that wouldn't expose too much. "Because I believe in what you're trying to do. The restaurant deserves someone who loves it for what it is, not someone who wants to change its soul."

Scarlet studied me for a long moment. "I can't pay you. Not yet, anyway."

"I don't want your money, Scarlet."

"Then what do you want?" she asked directly.

The question hung between us, loaded with possibilities I couldn't quantify.

The truth was, I wanted her—not just for pretend, not just for the weekend.

I needed her to add the color to my black-and-white life, like an outline waiting for a painter's brush.

But admitting that would mean risking everything.

"I want to help," I said finally. "Simple as that."

She didn't look convinced but nodded. "Then I accept. Thank you."

"Actually," I said, checking my watch, "we could get started tonight. The festival doesn't open until eleven tomorrow, and I've got all my financial models at the ranch."

"Now? Really?"

"No time like the present," I said, making quick calculations in my head. "Besides, I tend to work better at night when there are fewer interruptions."

The drive to the ranch was quiet, the radio playing softly between us. I noted each time Scarlet glanced my way, cataloging the way the dashboard lights caught the strands of gold in her hair, how her fingers tapped against her knee in a pattern of three beats followed by two.

At the ranch, I led her to my office. While my brothers had claimed their own spaces—Grayson's practical workshop, Weston's dog training area, Rhett's media room—I'd converted the small study into a haven of organization.

Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with reference materials and ledgers.

My desk held a computer and neat stacks of files, each with its purpose and place.

"This is so... you," Scarlet said, turning in a slow circle to take it all in.

"Too predictable?" I asked, hearing the defensive edge in my voice.

"Purposeful," she corrected. "There's beauty in order, Burke. It's just different from the beauty in chaos."

Her words caught me off guard, in a good way. I cleared my throat, gesturing to the chair beside my desk. "Shall we get started?"

For the next two hours, we brainstormed side by side, her ideas flowing as I helped shape them into a business framework.

She spoke passionately about expanding Smokin' Lurline's product offerings—not just her hot sauces, but marinades, dry rubs, even packaged versions of MeeMaw's famous sides.

I ran numbers, calculating start-up costs, potential revenues, and budgets.

"See here," I explained, pointing to a spreadsheet. "If we allocate a portion of the restaurant's existing space for product display and sales, you could test market items before approaching retailers."

"And seasonal special editions," she added excitedly. "Holiday gift baskets, summer grilling packages—all branded with the Smokin' Lurline's logo!"

Her enthusiasm was contagious. Before I knew it, we'd outlined a comprehensive three-year plan that honored the restaurant's history while incorporating Scarlet's innovations. When she yawned for the third time in five minutes, I glanced at the clock and was shocked to see it was nearly midnight.

"I should get you home," I said, saving our work. "Big day tomorrow."

The drive back to her parents' house was comfortable, with Scarlet's head nodding against the window before she'd jerk awake, mumbling apologies.

"You should sleep in tomorrow," I told her as I pulled into the driveway.

"No way," she said, her jaw tensing as she suppressed another yawn. "I need to do a final taste test in the morning. The sauce has to be perfect."

I walked her to the door, counting each step between the truck and the porch. The porch light cast her features in a warm glow, turning her vibrant dress into something softer. She looked up at me, blue eyes steady.

"Thank you," she said quietly. "For the dance, for standing up to Bethany Sue, for the business plan... for everything."

"Scarlet, I—"

Before I could finish, she rose on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to mine.

The kiss started hesitantly, but when I didn't pull away, she leaned in.

My hands found her waist, drawing her closer.

She tasted like lemonade and starlight, and my careful restraint vanished like morning dew.

For a moment, the pretense fell away, and there was just us—Burke and Scarlet—finding each other.

Her phone rang, the loud chimes cutting through the moment. She pulled back, her cheeks flushed. "I should get that—it might be MeeMaw."

"Of course," I said, stepping back. "I'll see you tomorrow."

She fumbled in her purse for her phone, offering me a quick smile before answering. "Hello?"

I turned to leave, making my way down the walk towards my truck, when her next words stopped me cold.

"Yes, the plan is working perfectly," she said, her voice carrying in the quiet night. "Burke has been exactly what I needed. After tomorrow's competition, it will be all over."

My hand froze on the truck door. The words stung worse than the time Rhett had accidentally backhanded me during a fence repair. I'd been a fool. A means to an end. Nothing more.

I climbed into the cab, starting the engine automatically. Through the rearview mirror, I watched Scarlet still talking on the phone, animated and smiling. The memory of our kiss burned in my mind, now tainted with the certainty that for her, it had all been part of the strategy.

All the way home, her words echoed in my head: After tomorrow's competition, it will be all over.

For once, Scarlet and I were in perfect agreement. Tomorrow, whatever this was between us would end. I'd been the reliable Tate brother long enough to know when a deal was going south.

And this particular arrangement had been miscalculated from the start.