Page 9 of Some Cowboys Brave the Flames

He reached out and plucked the strap that wrapped around her neck. His skin brushed against hers briefly before he released it. “An apron. You got one for me?”

She lifted her brows with amusement. “You want an apron?”

He shrugged.

Charlie snickered. “I think you’ll be fine. But if you really want one, I’m sure there’s one hanging in the pantry.” She motioned, only moderately surprised when he immediately moved in that direction. When he emerged, she let out a laugh.

Kiss the Cookwas sprawled across his chest. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s time to get started,” she said, ignoring his question. “We’re making rangoons. Right there are the wraps. And we have cream cheese, chives, bacon, and imitation crab mix if you want to try out something more traditional.” Shecould feel his eyes on her as she got down to business. If she could get through this lesson without him talking about their past, then she’d call that a win.

“Did you ever tell anyone?”

She froze at his whispered question. Then her head snapped up, and she looked over to the door. If any of her brothers overheard what he’d said, she’d be in so much trouble. Her eyes darted to Ash. “Of course not,” she hissed. “Who do you think I am?” She should be offended by his assumption. And yet she couldn’t blame him for wondering.

Ash shifted at her side, and she ignored the way his closeness added to the tension of his pointed question. They didn’t speak of anything besides the food for a good twenty minutes. But then he got a call and excused himself. It was short, and when he returned, she asked. “Work?”

He glanced over to her briefly. “Yes. I’m going to be on call next weekend.”

She nodded, her mouth forming a tight line.

“What’s that look for?” he asked.

Charlie glanced at him with surprise, then shook her head. “Nothing.”

“That wasn’t nothing,” he pressed. “I know nothing, but the look you just gave me? I’d say it bordered on disgust.”

Charlie placed her hands on her hips. “You really wanna know?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t,” he said, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Fine. I think your job is dumb.”

His brows shot up, and for a moment she thought he might get mad. Then he threw back his head and laughed. “You don’t beat around the bush, do you? Wanna tell me why?”

She continued to frown, her eyes drifting to the rangoons in the pan of hot oil. “Any job that puts a life in danger isn’t worth doing.”

Ash tilted his head and stared at her, his expression more contemplative. “Don’t you think you should be able to do something you love?”

She pressed her lips together hard until they tingled, then met his gaze once more. “I think that it’s selfish to believe that a person’s job only affects themselves. You have a girlfriend. If something were to happen to you, I’m sure she’d be devastated.”

He frowned at her. Good. She’d struck a nerve. He needed to think about others—about the people in his life who would suffer if something went wrong. But he didn’t agree with her. Nor did he argue. Instead, Ash changed the subject. “Are you seeing anyone?”

Charlie shook her head, a flush spreading across her cheeks. No one compared to him, and that meant she didn’t usually accept a second invitation for a date. “Want to tell me about her?” she asked, referring to his girlfriend.

Ash’s eyes narrowed momentarily, then he nodded. “Like I’ve said. She enjoys food—and cooking. She’s quiet but strong. The blue in her eyes could make a sane man go crazy and a crazy man turn sane.”

She bit back a smile at his last statement. “She sounds lovely.”

“She is. But she’ll never admit it. I think she doesn’t believe she’ll ever be good enough.”

His words struck a chord. Charlie knew exactly what that felt like. She could relate on so many levels to that one statement—and she hated it. She wanted to dislike whoever had stolen Ash’s heart, but knowing she was just as insecure as she was made it difficult.

“It’s nice to see that you’ve honed your cooking skills. I seem to recall you getting into it when you were fourteen. Do you think you’d like to make something more of it?”

She shrugged. “It’s great, but I’m not sure if I’d ever be good enough to run a restaurant or anything.” Then she tossed him a pointed look. “If I did, you could bet that it’d be safer than smoke jumping.”

He chuckled. “I dunno. Those knives can be pretty sharp.” He reached across her and picked up a steak knife. His hand brushed against her arm, but he didn’t seem to notice.

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