Page 18 of Some Cowboys Brave the Flames

Their conversation continued, and she moved to get out the ingredients to make her favorite dinner recipe. Fried chicken took time to master—especially when one wanted to copy the big restaurants. She’d come about as close as anyone, and today, she was going to show Ash how to do it.

He was still speaking to her brothers when she had to clear her throat to drag him away from his conversation. Ash glancedin her direction. “I guess that’s my cue.” He pushed away from the table, and her brothers did the same. Daniel and Mason grabbed their hats and headed for the door, leaving her alone with Ash.

Her heart hammered with nervous energy. Not surprising, he noticed.

Ash leaned his forearms against the countertop and gazed at her, making her nerves even worse. “What’s the matter with you?”

She snorted, and he lifted a bemused brow. Her eyes darted to the doorway before she leaned forward so her face was inches from his. “Did you tell them?”

“Tell… who… what?” Still the amusement could be read in his face. He knew exactly what she was talking about, and he was toying with her!

Charlie rolled her eyes. “Just tell me. Do they know?” When he didn’t respond, she groaned. “About the day at the park.”

“Oh,” he said exaggeratedly. His voice was too loud as he continued. “You want to know if your brothers know about the guy who wanted to have his way with you.”

She gasped and pressed both hands over his face, nearly jumping onto the counter to do so. “Sh!”

Ash laughed, pulling back so she couldn’t reach him. “No. I didn’t breathe a word.”

Charlie glowered at him. “You might as well have with how loud you’re talking.”

He only shrugged. Then his eyes swept over the food she had set out, and his brows lifted. “No way. You’re going to teach me how to make your fried chicken?”

The excitement in his voice momentarily threw her off guard. It wasn’t a surprise that he’d had her fried chicken. Over the years, she’d made it often enough. Usually, her brothers requested it for their birthdays. Then she reminded herself thatshe wasn’t here to impress him or make him happy. She was doing him a favor—a favor he had asked for to impress his girlfriend.

That thought left a sour taste in her mouth.

“You know,” Ash murmured, still taking in the spices and ingredients. “I almost did—tell them, I mean.”

Her eyes cut to his so sharply she saw stars. “What?” she hissed under her breath.

“Yeah. I thought they should know. But then I figured maybe I don’t have to.”

“No,” she agreed. “You really don’t.”

He lifted his gaze to her and resumed his relaxed form on the counter. “Since you’re helping me with this cooking thing, maybe I can help you with something.”

She didn’t know how to respond to that. What kind of favor? It wasn’t like he could be her bodyguard.

“Self-defense,” he said like he’d heard her thoughts. “I can’t be there to protect you all the time. Neither can your brothers. But you have to learn how to be more careful. And that means you should learn how to protect yourself.”

A snort slipped from her lips, and she shook her head. “My brothers would never go for that. And what makes you think I can do any damage? I’m barely over five feet.”

Ash seemed to size her up, leaning a little farther over the counter so he could take her in fully. The scrutiny made her feel far more vulnerable than she had any right to be. He nodded as if answering a question he’d posed to himself. “You’d be fine. I could teach you some moves that would guarantee to give you a head start if the worst were to happen.”

She considered what he was saying. If she’d had lessons, would her confidence in turning down that guy at the park have made a difference? Probably. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea. Rather than tell Ash that, she motioned to the spices. “These arewhat we’re going to mix into the batter for the chicken. I’m going to have you measure them out and put them in that bowl over there.”

They worked quietly for the first little bit. She nearly thought he wouldn’t say anything else for the rest of their lesson, but then he shattered the wall between them when he murmured, “How often do you think about it?” His question was soft, and there was absolutely no context.

Instinct told her she already knew before she asked, “About what?”

He gave her a look—one that said he was trying to be patient with her.

She swallowed hard and turned away from him, acting as if she didn’t see it.

“That kiss, Charlie.” If she wasn’t mistaken, she might have thought his voice cracked when he’d said it.

Charlie froze, her fingers gripping the dial on the stove. She could barely breathe. Hadn’t they agreed to never speak of it again? Or had that been in her imagination? Without turning, she whispered, “Sometimes.” Immediately, she grimaced. She hadn’t wanted to admit to it, and yet the words came out of their own accord.

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