Page 6 of Cowboys & Hot Sauce (Festival of Hearts #5)

Burke

The sun had barely climbed above the horizon but sweat already beaded on my forehead as I hammered the final stake into the ground.

The dunking booth—my assigned responsibility for this year's Summer's End Festival—was almost ready.

I stepped back to survey my work, calculating the load-bearing capacity of the platform and confirming the trigger mechanism had the right tension.

Sweetwater's fairgrounds bustled with early morning activity as vendors and volunteers prepared for the day ahead.

The smell of funnel cake batter and grilling sausages already wafted through the air despite the early hour.

Nearby, carnival workers tested the Ferris wheel with loud mechanical groans that promised later delights.

"Looking good there, financial wizard."

I turned to find Rhett sauntering toward me, hands in his pockets and an easy smile on his face. My youngest brother had the irritating ability to look perfectly comfortable in any situation—even at eight in the morning in scorching Texas heat.

"Shouldn't you be manning the information booth?" I asked, adjusting my hat to block the rising sun.

"Nah, got Farrah Graham covering for me this morning." He sidled up beside me, eyeing the dunking booth with amusement. "So, word around the fairgrounds is that you and Scarlet Landry are quite the item."

I busied myself with checking the water level in the tank. "News travels fast."

"Like wildfire." Rhett leaned against the booth frame. "Especially when it involves the most buttoned-up Tate brother and Sweetwater's famous wild child. Gotta say, I'm impressed. Didn't think you had it in you."

"Had what in me?" I kept my voice neutral, though my pulse quickened. Scarlet would arrive any minute, and I wasn't sure I wanted Rhett interrogating me when she did.

"The guts to actually ask her out." He grinned. "How long have you been carrying a torch for her? Since high school, right? All those 'tutoring sessions'?"

Heat rose to my face that had nothing to do with the Texas sun. "It wasn't like that."

"Sure it wasn't," Rhett chuckled. "So how'd this finally happen? Last I heard, she was running that food truck all over Houston."

I ran a hand along the back of my neck, mentally rehearsing the story Scarlet and I had practiced.

"We ran into each other at the Cinco de Mayo festival in San Antonio about three months ago.

I was picking up equipment for Weston's dogs, and she had her food truck there.

We reconnected at the Riverwalk, spent the weekend catching up. "

"Three months?" Rhett whistled. "And you're just now letting the family know? That's cold, brother."

"We've been taking it slow," I said, focusing on adjusting the target arm. "With her in Houston and me here, it's mostly been video calls. Weekend visits when we can manage it."

Rhett eyed me skeptically. "Video calls, huh? You hate video calls. You wouldn't even FaceTime Grayson when he was asking about those tax forms last month."

"This is different," I muttered.

"I'll say." He pushed off from the booth and circled around me. "So what's the real story? Because something doesn't add up."

"Rhett—"

"Burke!"

I'd never been so grateful to hear Scarlet's voice.

She approached with a bright smile, carrying a large basket and a cardboard tray of coffee cups.

The morning sunlight caught in her strawberry blonde hair, which today was styled in a loose braid adorned with a colorful bandana.

She wore a vintage t-shirt knotted at the waist over high-waisted denim shorts and customized cowboy boots painted with flames matching her food truck.

"Saved by the bell," Rhett murmured with a knowing smirk.

Scarlet reached us, setting down her parcels on a nearby table. "Morning, boys. I come bearing gifts."

"Scarlet Landry," Rhett said, his charm cranking up several notches. "Looking as beautiful as ever."

She laughed, the sound carrying across the fairgrounds like wind chimes.

"And you're still full of it, Rhett Tate.

" She handed each of us a coffee cup. "One black for Burke, and a couple more with enough cream and sugar to make a dentist cry.

I do like to make the folks holding the drills work for their money. "

I couldn't help but smile.

"What's in the basket?" Rhett asked, peering at it with undisguised interest.

Scarlet opened it with a flourish. "Blueberry scones with lemon glaze, fresh strawberries, and homemade honey butter."

Inside were golden-brown scones, still warm judging by the steam rising from them, alongside a container of glistening strawberries and a small jar of what must be the honey butter.

"You made these?" I asked, accepting a scone she offered.

"Couldn't sleep last night," she admitted, a faint blush coloring her cheeks as her gaze met mine. "Too much excitement, I guess."

I nodded, understanding completely. I'd barely slept either, my mind calculating and recalculating every moment of the family dinner—the way she'd looked in that green dress, how natural it felt to stand beside her, the almost-moment in the kitchen when I'd nearly leaned in to kiss her.

"These are incredible," Rhett mumbled through a mouthful of scone. "Seriously, do you have another sister who's single and can cook like this?"

"Well, shoot." Rhett grabbed another scone, scattering crumbs down his shirt. "Guess I'll have to keep lookin'. Though I'm sure the right gal will come along when I'm good and ready." He winked. "Not all of us are in a hurry to settle down."

Scarlet twirled the end of her braid around her finger, stealing a glance my way. "You never know, Rhett. Sometimes the right person's been there all along, just waitin' for you to notice."

"Like you two?" Rhett nudged me with his elbow, nearly making me spill my coffee.

"Got to admit, never saw this comin', but it makes a weird kind of sense.

" He gave me a playful punch on the arm.

"Burke's been needin' someone to ruffle his feathers for years.

Lord knows I've tried, but seems he needed a prettier face for the job. "

Scarlet's eyes found mine, a silent question dancing in them. The tips of my ears burned as I adjusted my hat brim. "Don't you have an information booth to get back to? Pretty sure Farrah's not getting paid to cover your shift."

"Trying to get rid of me already?" Rhett grinned but gathered a coffee and another scone. "Fine, I know when I'm third-wheeling. But this dunking booth needs a victim, and as one of the committee chairs, I officially volunteer you, brother."

"What?" I protested.

"First dunking of the day," Rhett called over his shoulder as he walked away. "Do it for your girlfriend!"

When he was out of earshot, I turned to Scarlet. "Sorry about him."

"Don't be," she said, arranging the remaining scones on a paper plate. "He's sweet. Besides, we pulled it off, right? He believes we're together."

"Right," I agreed, ignoring the unbalanced feeling in my chest at the reminder this was all pretend. "He believes it."

Scarlet glanced at the booth. "How can I help get this baby in working order?"

For the next hour, we worked side by side, filling the tank with water, testing the seat mechanism, and setting up a small table for ticket sales.

The proceeds would go to Sweetwater's volunteer fire department, a cause close to my heart since they'd saved our barn during a lightning strike five years ago.

I found myself watching Scarlet from the corner of my eye as we worked. The way she hummed under her breath, the graceful movements of her hands, the determined set of her mouth when she concentrated— All of it made it impossible to look away.

"What?" she asked, catching me watching her.

"Nothing," I said quickly. "Just... thanks for helping."

She smiled, reaching out to adjust my hat where it had slipped lower over my eyes. "That's what girlfriends do, right?"

Her fingers brushed my forehead, sending a warmth spreading through me like sunshine through a barn window. I fought the urge to catch her hand in mine.

"Right," I replied.

We continued setting up, falling into a comfortable rhythm that felt strangely natural.

Every so often, our hands would brush or our shoulders would touch, and each contact made me as unsteady as a fresh-broken colt.

I wondered if she felt it too, or if I was imagining the lingering touches, the way her eyes sometimes held mine a moment too long.

"There," she said finally, stepping back to admire our work. "One dunking booth, ready to soak the most eligible bachelor in Sweetwater."

"I'm hardly that," I protested.

"Oh please," she scoffed. "Smart, handsome, responsible... any girl would be lucky to have you." Her cheeks flushed slightly. "I mean, that's what MeeMaw always said about you Tate boys."

Before I could respond, a small crowd began to gather near the booth.

The festival was officially open for the day, and apparently, word had spread about the first dunking victim.

I spotted Mrs. Thornton and Mrs. Dalton from the church whispering behind their hands, their eyes darting between Scarlet and me.

"Looks like you've got fans," Scarlet teased.

"More like they're hoping to see me embarrassed," I muttered.

"Well then," she said, pitching her voice louder, "we shouldn't disappoint them."

She slipped her arm through mine in a gesture that looked perfectly natural, though it made my pulse quicken. "Ladies and gentlemen," she called, "who wants to see Burke Tate get dunked?"

A cheer went up from the growing crowd.

"Three balls for five dollars," she continued, "all proceeds to our brave volunteer firefighters!"

Before I knew it, a line had formed. Scarlet slipped behind the ticket table, her eyes dancing with mischief as she sold ticket after ticket. I resigned myself to my fate and climbed the ladder to the seat above the tank.