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

Scarlet

"This is ridiculous," I muttered to my reflection. "It's just dinner."

Except it wasn't just dinner. It was dinner with my family—including MeeMaw—where Burke and I would pretend to be a couple.

The same Burke Tate who'd patiently tutored me through math when I was falling behind.

The same Burke who'd shown up at my food truck today and helped me serve customers like we'd been partners for years.

And now he was downstairs, probably making small talk with my daddy while I tried to calm my pulse, which was jumping like a startled jackrabbit.

After running a brush through my tangled hair, I headed downstairs to the kitchen where Mom bustled around the stove while MeeMaw arranged a bowl of fresh-cut zinnias from the garden. I could hear the low rumble of Burke's voice from the living room, mixed with Daddy’s occasional commentary.

"There you are, sugar," Mom said, wiping her hands on her apron. "Set these rolls in that basket, would you?"

MeeMaw's sharp eyes assessed my dress. "Well, don't you look nice. Special occasion?"

Heat rushed to my face. "Just thought I'd freshen up after a day at the festival."

"Mmm-hmm." Her knowing tone made me fumble with the dinner rolls. "Nothing to do with that cowboy sitting in our living room, I suppose."

Mom swooped in to rescue a roll before it hit the floor. "Oh, leave her be, Mama. I think it's sweet. He's always been such a nice young man."

I followed the sounds of conversation to find Burke and Daddy deep in discussion about engines. Despite our long day at the festival, Burke somehow looked composed—his shirt unwrinkled, his expression alert and engaged.

Burke glanced up, his face brightening when he saw me. "Hey."

"Hey yourself," I replied, feeling oddly shy.

Daddy clapped his hands on his knees and stood up. "I'll go wash up. Burke here was just telling me about that engine rebuild I did for the ranch last spring."

"Running like it's brand new," Burke assured him. "Your work's the best in three counties. Grayson says we should get another decade out of it, easy."

"That's what I like to hear," Daddy beamed, clearly pleased. "You know, not many mechanics understand those older model tractors anymore. They're built different—solid."

"Like they used to make things to last," Burke agreed.

I watched in amazement as Burke effortlessly conversed with my father about torque specifications and carburetor adjustments.

My father had always been a man who preferred action to words, except when it came to engines.

Yet here was Burke, drawing him out, showing genuine interest. Was he really this good at pretending, or had he always paid this much attention to my family?

The sound of tires on gravel announced another arrival. Minutes later, my brother Tyson appeared with his girlfriend Emma, a pretty floral designer whose blonde hair was twisted into an elaborate braid adorned with tiny daisy clips.

"Sorry we're late," Tyson said, kissing Mom's cheek. "Emma had a last-minute wedding consultation." His eyes widened when he spotted Burke standing beside me. "Burke? Well, I'll be damned—I mean, darned," he corrected, glancing at MeeMaw. "What's the Tate family financial wizard doing here?"

"Tyson," I said, my fingers intertwining with Burke's as naturally as if we'd held hands a hundred times before, "Burke and I have been dating for a few months now."

My brother's eyebrows shot up. "You and the guy who helped you pass math? The same guy who stayed up all night to help you finish your senior project when you'd left it until the last minute?"

"I didn't leave it until the last minute," I protested, my face flushing. "The requirements changed three days before it was due!"

Burke chuckled beside me. "As I recall, we went through an entire pot of coffee and two bags of Cheetos. You still managed to get an A, though."

Emma laughed, extending her hand to Burke. "I'm Emma. I've heard so many Scarlet stories from Ty, but somehow he missed that you two were dating."

"That's because I didn't know," Tyson said, studying us with amused suspicion. "Last I heard, you were running your food truck all over Houston."

"Plans change," I said, squeezing Burke's hand. "I'm looking at moving back to Sweetwater permanently."

MeeMaw's lips pursed, though she remained silent.

"Well, isn't this a nice surprise," Mom said, ushering everyone toward the dining room. "Dinner's ready, and the chicken won't wait."

The dinner table groaned under the weight of the grilled chicken with Daddy’s secret spice rub, Mom's black-eyed peas, fresh corn on the cob, fried okra, and MeeMaw's famous buttermilk biscuits.

I sat beside Burke, the warmth of his leg alongside mine each time he shifted made concentrating on my chicken nearly impossible.

"Burke," MeeMaw said once everyone was served, "tell me about your brothers. I heard Grayson married that lovely newcomer, Paige. And Weston—is he still showing those Blue Heelers of his?"

Burke dipped his chin in acknowledgment. "Yes, ma'am. Grayson and Paige are doing great, and Weston and Shelby are still going strong. She’s the new meteorologist now on channel 5."

"That's wonderful," Mom said, passing the biscuits. "So lovely to see how all of Sweetwater's children are growing up and starting their own families. It's all a mother could want—to see her children happy and surrounded by love."

Burke's arm settled around the back of my chair, a casual touch that felt both rehearsed and oddly right. "Scarlet's food truck has been doing amazingly well. Have you tried her Texas Tornado sauce yet? It's gaining quite a following."

I felt my cheeks warm under his praise. "You're biased."

"Maybe," he admitted, his gaze holding mine. "But that doesn't make it any less true."

There was something in his expression—a warmth, a tenderness—that made me wonder if we were still pretending. I forced myself to look away, finding MeeMaw taking in this interaction with interest.

"This chicken is incredible," Burke remarked, breaking the moment. "That spice rub is something special. Now I see where Scarlet gets her talent for flavor combinations."

Daddy chuckled. "Don't let Lurline hear you say that. I learned everything about seasoning from her."

"It's always nice when families can stick together," MeeMaw observed, her tone casual but her eyes sharp.

"Traditions passed down, knowledge shared.

" She turned to me. "Speaking of which, Scarlet, what exactly are your plans now that you're considering moving back?

That food truck of yours seems rather... mobile."

The question dangled between us, weighted with years of history. The implication was clear: she still didn't trust me to stay.

"Actually," I said, setting down my fork, "I've entered my Texas Tornado sauce in the hot sauce competition at the festival.

First prize is five thousand dollars, which would be a solid investment toward expanding Smokin' Lurline's to offer product lines, including bottled sauces and spice jars.

" I met her gaze directly. "Not changing the fare like Bethany Sue wants to but building on what makes it special—your recipes, your techniques, but adding more signature products for build on the existing brand. "

MeeMaw's mouth twitched at one corner. "Hmm," she said, in that tone that could wither green tomatoes on the vine or coax them to ripen overnight, depending on which way the wind was blowing.

"That sounds like a solid business plan," Burke interjected smoothly. "Speaking of business, I've been considering branching out myself."

"Oh?" My mom looked interested. "Doing what?"

"Financial consulting for small businesses here in Sweetwater," Burke explained.

"The ranch is doing well enough that I have time to help other local businesses with their bookkeeping, tax planning, that sort of thing.

I see a real need for it, especially with family businesses that might not have the resources for full-time financial staff. "

"Now that's using your noodle," Daddy gave a quick bob of his head approvingly. "I could use someone like that for the repair shop. Never was good with those spreadsheets and quarterly whatchamacallits."

"Tax filings," Burke supplied with a smile. "I'd be happy to take a look at your books sometime."

I considered Burke's expression, wondering if this was part of our act or something he'd actually been considering. The way he spoke about it—with genuine enthusiasm and specific details—made me think it might be real.

After dessert—Mom's peach cobbler with homemade vanilla ice cream—Burke and I ended up alone in the kitchen. The others had moved to the living room, Daddy eager to show Emma and Tyson photos from their recent fishing trip.

"Thanks for doing this," I said quietly, rinsing dessert plates. "My family can be a lot."

Burke took a plate from my hands, drying it carefully with a blue-and-white checkered dishcloth. "I like your family. Always have."

"Even MeeMaw and her twenty questions?"

His lips quirked up. "Especially MeeMaw. She loves you, Scarlet. That's why she's tough on you."

"I know," I sighed, handing him another plate. "I just wish she could see that I've matured—that I'm ready to commit to Sweetwater, to the restaurant." I glanced toward the living room where laughter erupted over something Daddy had said. "To building something that lasts."

Burke set down the towel, turning to face me fully. The kitchen light caught the tiny scar above his right eyebrow—a thin white line I'd never noticed before.

"For what it's worth," he murmured, his voice low, "I see it."

The air between us thickened, charged with an electricity I hadn't expected to feel. My gaze dropped to his lips, and I suddenly wondered what it would feel like if he kissed me. The thought startled me so much I nearly dropped the plate I was holding.

"Careful," he cautioned, steadying my hands with his own. My skin prickled with goosebumps despite the kitchen's warmth.

"I should probably..." I gestured vaguely toward the living room, unable to finish the thought.

Burke nodded, stepping back slightly. "It's getting late anyway. I should head out—early day tomorrow with the festival."

"Right," I said, feeling oddly disappointed. "The festival."

We rejoined my family in the living room where Burke graciously accepted one last serving of cobbler from my mother before announcing he needed to leave. My parents insisted on walking us out to the porch, with MeeMaw following close behind.

"Thank you for dinner, Mrs. Landry," Burke said. "Best meal I've had in a long time."

Mom beamed. "You're welcome anytime, Burke. Isn't he, Wayne?"

Daddy nodded. "Come by the shop sometime. I'll show you that new hydraulic lift I installed."

On the porch, under the yellow glow of the porch light and the watchful eyes of my family, Burke turned to me. "I'll see you tomorrow at the festival? Around eight? I could use your help setting up the dunking booth for the charity fundraiser."

"I'd love to," I replied, genuinely looking forward to it. "The food truck's all prepped and ready, so I'll have time in the morning."

He smiled, then leaned in for a hug that felt perfectly natural—his strong arms enveloping me, the scent of his soap mingling with the lingering smoky sweetness of the evening. For a moment, I let myself lean into him, my head fitting just under his chin as if we'd embraced a hundred times before.

"Goodnight, Scarlet," he said softly, his breath warm against my hair.

"Goodnight," I whispered back, reluctantly pulling away.

As his truck pulled out of the driveway, headlights sweeping across the yard, I remained on the porch, tracing the lingering warmth of his embrace.

Back inside, I closed the front door, leaning against it for a moment. The conversation from the kitchen drifted down the hallway.

"They make a handsome couple," Mom was saying.

"He seems good for her," Daddy agreed. "Steady."

MeeMaw's response was too quiet for me to hear, but I didn't need to. I knew what she was thinking: was this relationship real? Was I truly ready to settle down in Sweetwater? Or would I run at the first sign of trouble, like I had in the past?

I touched my fingers to my cheek where Burke's stubble had lightly brushed against my skin during our hug.

For the first time since we'd agreed to this charade, I found myself wishing it wasn't pretend.

Wishing that the tender look in his eyes had been real.

Wishing that tomorrow wasn't just about convincing MeeMaw, but about spending more time with Burke Tate—the steady, practical cowboy who somehow made my chaotic heart feel like it had found a place to land.

And the most terrifying part? I wasn't sure I wanted our charade to end when the festival did.