Page 14 of Cowboys & Hot Sauce
"These are perfect," Scarlet declared. "MeeMaw will definitely be convinced."
"Yeah," I replied, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in my chest. The numbers weren't adding up between what we were pretending and what I was feeling.
We walked back toward her food truck, the photos tucked safely in Scarlet's pocket. I was about to ask her if we could talk about what had just happened when a familiar, honeyed voice cut through the crowd.
"Well, if it isn't Scarlet Landry and Burke Tate."
Bethany Sue Walker approached, her bleached blonde hair perfectly styled despite the heat. Beside her walked Mayor Davidson, looking uncomfortable.
"Bethany Sue," Scarlet acknowledged, her voice cooling several degrees. "Mayor."
"We were just discussing the opportunities for culinary innovation in Sweetwater," Bethany Sue said, her smile fixed firmly in place. "The Mayor's quite interested in tomorrow's competition, aren't you, Mayor?"
"Indeed," Davidson nodded. "Got my antacids ready and everything."
Bethany Sue laughed lightly. "I was sharing my vision for elevating the dining experience in town. Quality establishments that honor tradition while embracing contemporary tastes." Her gaze flicked to Scarlet. "The kind of place that would make folks proud to call Sweetwater home."
I felt Scarlet stiffen beside me.
"Lurline hasn't sold to you yet," I pointed out.
"It's just a matter of timing," Bethany Sue replied, her gaze fixed on Scarlet. "I believe in committing fully to one's community." She adjusted her pearl earring. "Stability is so important in business, don't you think?"
"I think Scarlet's commitment speaks for itself," I said, stepping slightly forward. "Her food truck's been successful across three counties, and her sauce development shows real entrepreneurial spirit."
Bethany Sue's smile remained unchanged. "How supportive. Though I wonder—" she glanced between us, "—how long various... arrangements... will last once the festival winds down." She turned to the Mayor. "Shall we continue our tour?"
As they walked away, I turned to Scarlet, whose eyes had narrowed to blue slits.
"Don't let her get to you," I said quietly.
"She thinks she has it all figured out," Scarlet muttered. "That I'll just give up and leave again."
"Then prove her wrong," I said, taking her hand. "We've got a competition to win and a restaurant to save."
She looked up at me, determination replacing the hurt in her eyes. "You really think we can do it?"
"I know we can," I assured her, even as a small voice in my head reminded me that "we" was temporary—a weekend arrangement that would end once Scarlet had what she needed.
But as we walked back to the food truck, her hand still in mine and the memory of our kiss fresh in my mind, I couldn't help hoping that some pretenses could become reality.
Chapter Five
Scarlet
"The secret's in the finish," I explained to Burke as I gave my signature Texas Tornado blend one last stir. "You want heat that builds, not just a flame that hits your tongue and disappears. That's the difference between a good pepper kick and one worth remembering."
The preliminary judging for the hot sauce competition was set to begin in thirty minutes, and my hands wouldn't stop fidgeting. My food truck had been transformed into a proper tasting booth—sample cups arranged in colorful concentric circles, tasting notes printed on handmade cards, and bottles of my Texas Tornado gleaming under the string lights I'd hung outside. Outside, Burke had helped me set up a red-and-orange canopy decorated with paper flames and a hand-painted sign that matched my truck's logo.
"How many votes do you need to make it to the finals?" Burke asked, methodically arranging crackers and water cups at the end of my display.
"It's not about a specific number," I said, wiping my hands on my apron. "The two concoctions with the highest public votes move on to tomorrow's final judging."
Burke nodded, his gaze scanning the competition area where three other booths were being set up. "So we're looking at a twenty-five percent chance if voting is random, but significantly higher given the quality of your creation."
I couldn't help grinning. Leave it to Burke to calculate the odds while I was over here trying not to spill anything on my lucky boots.
"It's not just about the flavor," I admitted, lowering my voice. "Presentation matters. First impressions. Getting people excited before they even taste it." I nodded toward Bethany Sue's spot across the way, where she was arranging delicate porcelain spoons beside her "Haute Heat" sauce.
