Page 15 of Cowboys & Hot Sauce (Festival of Hearts #5)

Scarlet

The dinner rush at Smokin' Lurline's hit like a Texas thunderstorm—sudden, powerful, and exactly what I'd been waiting for.

I wiped my hands on my apron, surveying the packed dining room with a satisfaction that bubbled up from somewhere deep inside.

Six weeks after winning the hot sauce competition, and the place hadn't seen an empty table since we reopened.

"Order up for table twelve!" I called, sliding three plates of brisket across the pass-through window. Each one glistened with my Prairie Fire sauce, the recipe now permanently featured on our "Landry Family Specials" menu.

The renovated dining room filled with conversation and the scrape of forks against plates.

We'd kept the red-and-white checked tablecloths—some traditions you don't mess with—but added rustic wooden shelves along one wall that housed the "Scarlet's Inferno" retail collection.

Glass bottles of Texas Tornado, Firefly's Kiss, and three new sauce varieties I'd developed stood in colorful rows, catching the light from the Edison bulbs we'd strung across the ceiling.

"Those new jalapeno corn fritters are flying out of the kitchen," MeeMaw said, appearing at my side with an empty serving tray.

Her silver hair remained in its practical bun, but these days she wore a splash of red lipstick that matched the restaurant's new logo.

"Sold out of the bottled Ranch Fire sauce, too. Need to mix up another batch tomorrow."

I grinned. "Good thing I ordered extra peppers."

MeeMaw's eyes crinkled at the corners. "You always did have good instincts. Just needed to settle down enough to use them properly." She nodded toward a family digging into a platter of ribs. "Those folks drove all the way from Austin after reading about us in Texas Taste magazine."

The pride in her voice was something I'd waited years to hear. She worked just three days a week now, but she knew every regular by name and delighted in telling them how her granddaughter had "revitalized the family legacy with a little kick of innovation."

The bell above the door jingled, and I looked up to see the Tate brothers filing in with their partners.

Grayson and Paige led the way, followed by Weston and Shelby, with Rhett bringing up the rear.

My pulse quickened when I spotted Burke behind them, fresh from his office in the renovated side room where he'd set up his financial consulting business three afternoons a week.

"Hey, hot stuff," he said, sliding an arm around my waist and dropping a kiss on my temple. "Your dinner rush survival rate holding steady?"

"Ninety-seven percent and climbing," I quipped, leaning into him. "How's the Shepperd account looking?"

"Balanced to the penny," he replied with that small smile that never failed to make my stomach flutter. "Helped Hank restructure his farm equipment loans. He'll save about twelve thousand over five years."

"My hero," I teased, though I meant it more than he knew. Burke's careful planning had already saved Smokin' Lurline's a tidy sum in operating costs.

Rhett waved from their table. "You two lovebirds planning to feed us, or should we just survive on meaningful glances?"

I rolled my eyes but couldn't stop smiling. "Special's on the board. I'll send Tammy over with some samples."

As Burke rejoined his family, I ducked into the kitchen to check on the final dinner prep.

My food truck—freshly repainted with the Smokin' Lurline's logo alongside the original Scarlet's Inferno flames—was parked out back, ready for the weekend farmers market.

Having both businesses running simultaneously had been Burke's idea, and it was working better than I'd dared hope.

An hour later, as the dinner crowd thinned, I slipped into the kitchen's back corner where I'd hidden my surprise.

The chocolate cake sat on a vintage pedestal, four layers of rich devil's food sandwiching spiced ganache, with a hint of cayenne and cinnamon in the frosting.

I'd spent three nights perfecting the recipe—just enough heat to warm the back of the throat without overwhelming the chocolate.

I carried it out carefully, weaving between tables until I reached the Tates. Burke was in the middle of what looked like a serious conversation with Grayson, his brow furrowed in that way that made the tiny scar above his eyebrow stand out.

"Special delivery," I announced, setting the cake in the center of the table.

Burke looked up, confusion quickly turning to surprise. "What's this?"

"Burke's Slow Burn Chocolate Cake," I said, feeling uncharacteristically shy. "New dessert menu item, if it passes the official taste test."

Rhett whistled. "Look at that, brother. You've got a dish named after you already."

Burke's eyes held mine as I handed him a small note card. He unfolded it carefully, those steady fingers that could calculate complex figures in seconds now handling my words with the same precision.

For the man who taught me that some things—like hot sauce, chocolate, and love—get better with a slow burn. And are absolutely worth staying for.

His smile spread slowly, starting in his eyes before reaching his lips. Without a word, he pulled me down for a kiss sealed with promise.

"I take it you approve of the cake?"

"I approve of everything about it. Especially the baker."

Later, after closing, I found him in his office, spreadsheets neatly stacked beside a half-eaten slice of cake. He pulled me onto his lap, and I rested my head against his shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of him—clean cotton, leather, and now a hint of chocolate.

"Happy?" he asked quietly.

I nodded, thinking of my food truck adventures, my grandmother's proud smile, the restaurant humming with new energy while honoring old traditions. And most of all, this steady man who balanced my energy with his calm, who'd taken the biggest risk of his life on me.

"Happier than a blue ribbon winner at the county fair," I said, pressing my lips to the underside of his jaw. "Turns out some recipes are worth perfecting."

"And some partnerships are worth the investment," he added, tightening his arms around me.

Outside, the Sweetwater night settled over us like a familiar blanket, stars scattered across the Texas sky. And for once in my life, I wasn't thinking about the next adventure or the horizon beyond. I was exactly where I wanted to be—savoring the moment, one slow burn at a time.