His gaze swept over my messy room and I know I saw a blip of longing in his eyes. This used to be a summer treat for us. Playing video games in my room or sneaking out to the backyard in the middle of the night just to talk beneath the stars. I’d lost count of the number of times we’d stayed up way too late together. But when he shook his head slightly and smiled sadly at me, the excitement I felt at reviving those old times faded away.
“I really shouldn’t, Char.”
My shoulders drooped. “Why? Got something big going on in the morning?”
He shook his head. “No. I’m not meeting with the Oakie boys ’til nine to train at the arena and then it’s your pie contest.”
“Then, what?” I gave him a half-smile. “You worried I’ll keep you up all night and you won’t get enough beauty sleep?”
His chest rose and fell with a heavy breath as he frowned painfully at me. “I just...shouldn’t. It’s your bedroom. And your parents are sleeping.”
I threw my head back and laughed. He’d been in my room a million times before—both with my parents asleep and awake. It was no different now.
“You’re not serious, right?” I wiped the tears out of my eyes. “Hunter, come on. It’s just me.”
“Yeah...just you.”
As I waited for him to come to his senses and climb through the window, my gaze searched his hesitant expression. The light from my bedroom had fallen on his face in a way that highlighted the sharper angle of his cheekbones and jawline. It also revealed a faint white scar that I hadn’t noticed before. It ran perpendicular to his lips and stopped just short of his chin. Had he gotten it from a bull like Marshmallow?
I had the sudden and crazy desire to reach out and run my finger gently over the scar and then trace the cupid’s bow of his lips, just like the wood grain on the windowsill. But instead, I kept my hands firmly where they were. That was not best friend behavior. Neither was the slight burst of warmth in my stomach as he gave me a soft smile.
“Maybe another night, okay?”
I nodded and met his gaze, glad to be thinking about something other than that scar and its very close proximity to his lips. “Sure. I’m holding you to it.”
“Good.” His eyes twinkled as he wagged his eyebrows. “By the way, can’t wait to try your pie tomorrow. Ms. Gentry asked me and a couple of the rodeo guys to be judges for the contest. Pretty sure I’m going to go into a sugar coma, but it’ll be worth it.”
I squealed as quietly as I could. This was perfect. Hunter loved my mom’s brown sugar pie. With my best friend as one of the judges, there was no way I could lose. Sarah was going to eat my dust.
“I’ll see you tomorrow for the contest, then,” I said, shooting him a smile.
He shoved off the windowsill and returned my smile. “Night, Char.”
Watching him walk off into the darkening night was kind of like watching a hero walk off at the end of a movie. I rested my cheek in my hand and leaned my elbow on the sill, trying to keep him in view for as long as possible, until he was gone.
For the first time, I was kind of looking forward to this competition.
If Sarah thought she could treat me like trash and flirt with my best friend, then she had another thing coming.
I couldn’t wait to win this thing.
Chapter Ten
“You’ve got this in the bag, baby. Or should I say, in the pie?”
Mom giggled as we sat on fold-up chairs in the arts and craft building at the fairgrounds waiting for the competition to begin. They’d set up a massive make-shift kitchen with electric ovens and white rectangular tables for the contestants to use to prepare their recipes. At my feet lay three cloth bags filled with the ingredients I would need to create my winning pie. I’d watched Mom make it enough times; I was pretty confident I could nail it.
Sarah should’ve been sweating in her over-priced gladiator sandals.
“Why didn’t I bring my portable curling iron?” Lexi asked, fussing over the curls she was currently strategically placing around my face. She’d decided a bun was the best look for baking. With a maniacal glint in her eyes, she held up a fancy bobby pin with a star on the end and stabbed it into the bun.
“Ow, take it easy.” I jerked away from her forceful hand. “It’s not good to bleed into a brown sugar pie.”
She bit her bottom lip and aimed a can of hairspray at my hair, totally ignoring my pleas. “Almost done...there. You’re picture perfect. Want to see?”
I swatted away her handheld mirror. There was no way I was going to look at the damage Lexi had done. As soon as this was all over, my plan was to run to the nearest bathroom and scrub off the hundred layers of makeup she’d pasted on me.
“I’m good, thanks. We all done here?”
“Done.” She clasped her hands together and looked at me all starry-eyed. “You look like a real rodeo queen, Charlotte. Doesn’t she, Beth?”
Beth looked up from the game on her phone just long enough to give me a quick, appraising look. “She looks good.”
I suppose for Beth that was high praise. Still, I wasn’t exactly thrilled about this makeover. Lexi could be pretty heavy-handed with the eyeliner and brow gel. But it was too late to go back now.
“I think you did amazing, Lexi.” Mom put an arm around me as Lexi beamed. “Our Charlotte is going to win. Now get up there and go bake us a pie.”
It looked like most of the other contestants were already in their places. I scooped up my bags and headed toward an empty table at the end. Geminia gave me a wink from three tables away as she pulled a frilly pink apron over her head. I smiled back and then started getting my supplies ready.
Butter. Eggs. Sugar. Check, check, and check. Plus, all the other little ingredients to make my masterpiece. The last thing I had to do was get my mixer in place. This was so much easier than sheep washing. In fact, I never wanted to see a sheep for as long as I lived, if I could help it.
I plugged my mixer into the power strip and went to test it, when a hand touched me gently on my waist. A familiar scent of cologne filled my nose as someone came up behind me and leaned close to whisper in my opposite ear.
“Good luck out there, Char Char.”
Hunter’s warm breath on the side of my neck sent an alarming cascade of electricity down my back. I looked over to see his lips curving in a reassuring smile. He’d worn an army green baseball cap and flannel shirt that brought out the green in his hazel eyes. The fabric around his generous bicep strained as he leaned his left arm on the table and his eyes did an agonizingly slow sweep over me.
I had the feeling he was assessing Lexi’s latest makeover. Thankfully, there was no disapproval in his gaze when his gaze finally made contact with mine again. He kept his expression basically neutral, although I didn’t miss the slight tension around his eyes, as if he were trying hard not to let his emotions show. Despite that, his sudden closeness and the sensation of his chest brushing against my left side made my legs feel wobbly. I clung to my mixer, hoping I wouldn’t just fall to the floor and embarrass myself—again.
“I’m not sure if you know this, but I don’t need luck,” I said, swallowing hard and then pointing a shaking finger at the stained and yellowed three by five notecard on the table beside me. “I have my mom’s famous recipe. It’s guaranteed to win.”
“Can’t wait.” He nodded approvingly and then licked his lips, drawing my eyes straight to the shapely curve of his mouth.
Shoot. Why was I always doing that? I needed to get a grip.
Hunter didn’t seem to notice my discomfort. He gave my waist a gentle squeeze before dropping his hand. “Don’t tell anyone, Char Char, but I’m rooting for you.”
I giggled nervously as he walked away, warmth blossoming in my stomach. Apparently, my nerves about this contest were getting to me. It was a good thing I was already set up and ready to rock this thing. But as I went to test my mixer, it wouldn’t start.
“What the...?”
It had definitely worke
d at home before we packed it up. I followed the cord down to the ground and found it laying uselessly next to the power strip.
“Oops, was that yours?” Sarah plopped a bag of flour heavily on the table next to me, sending a white poof into the air. Her dark eyes glittered as she gave me a sugar-sweet smile. “I would’ve asked before I unplugged it, but you were too busy colluding with the judges. I guess that’s what you have to resort to when you’re in dead last place.”
I ground my teeth and narrowed my eyes at her before reaching down to plug my mixer back in. Sarah couldn’t talk about colluding. She had been the one shamelessly flirting with Hunter just last night. It was nice to know it had gotten her absolutely nowhere. Apparently, Hunter was smarter than that. He could see through her fake eyelashes and plumping lip gloss.
And yes, I was in dead last. Ms. Gentry’s nervous-nelly son had passed out score sheets this morning. No surprise to anyone that Sarah had dominated the little sheep-washing demonstration from yesterday. Perfect points for poise and helpfulness. The only thing that gave me a little pleasure was seeing Geminia’s score coming in right after Sarah’s. But I was going to have a lot of ground to make up for if I wanted to stand a chance in this competition.
And that all started with this brown sugar pie.
“Thank you, everyone, for attending.” Ms. Gentry stood in front of the tables to address the dozen or so people who’d come to watch. She wore a floor-length black dress that was only slightly different from her previous two. I imagined her closet was full of them. One after another. A closet full of disapproving darkness that would swallow you up just for looking at it wrong. “We’ve got seven young ladies here, creating seven different recipes. I’m sure today’s winner will prove to be worthy of the Rodeo Queen title. Our prestigious judges are saddled up and ready for a feast. Ladies, you have two hours, so let the baking begin.”
Hunter sat at a rectangular table facing the contestants. Graham was on the other side, with a big, burly guy wearing a permanent scowl in-between them that Ms. Gentry introduced as Rhett. Hunter grinned at me and then rubbed his belly as the contestants began to rush to open their ingredients. I returned his smile and then redirected my attention to the recipe. No more getting distracted by boys.
First up was the crust. I could handle that. I’d mastered the art of crushing graham crackers in preschool.
This was going to be easy.
The butter, brown sugar, and graham cracker crumbs all combined together to make a gorgeous crust that came out of the oven smelling like heaven. After that, I poured the batter that I’d carefully mixed into the shell and then popped it back into the heat for another half hour. When I’d said Mom’s recipe was foolproof and quick, I hadn’t been lying. Even better, it gave me time to check on the competition.
It seemed that I’d picked one of the simpler recipes to make for the contest. A girl at the other end of the row was wrestling with a rolling pin and looked about ready to burst into tears. Geminia had flour all over her face and hair. Two other contestants hadn’t even finished making their filling. Only Sarah looked as cool as a cucumber, carefully placing hearts on top of her apple pie that she’d cut out of the pie dough, not a speck of flour or dough on her frilly black apron.
Perfect, once again.
“Done so soon, Lottie?” Sarah asked, her dark eyes glinting as she glanced up and caught me watching her.
I grinned and lifted myself up to sit on the clean table. At least I had speediness on my side. “Perfection doesn’t have to take all day. That’s why I only spend five minutes in front of the mirror each morning.”
The slight disapproving purse of her lips was almost funny. That was, until she looked up at me and smirked, murder in her eyes. “Do you also put your makeup on in the dark? Because that might explain why you look like a drag queen today. You really should let me teach you how to do your eyeshadow someday. I’d be happy to help.”
Heat filled my cheeks. I wrapped my arms around my waist, trying not to give in to the desire to wilt under her insults. Sarah was a master at mental sabotage. She’d spoken just loud enough for me to hear her clearly, but not loud enough to alert Ms. Gentry standing only two tables over. Not that Ms. Gentry would do anything if she found out. I had the feeling she was a grown-up version of mean girls like Sarah Claiborne. She’d probably take her side.
There was no use sticking around to take her verbal assault. Sliding off the table, I wandered around the perimeter of the arts and craft building to eventually join my mom, Lexi, and Beth still sitting in folding chairs in the audience. Lexi and Mom were engaged in a very animated discussion about the art of hair teasing. Beth had her air pods on and was still glued to her phone.
“Done, baby?” Mom asked as I took the seat next to her.
I shook my head. “Not yet. Ten more minutes and it’ll be ready to come out of the oven. The timer’s on my phone. I won’t miss it.”
She patted my knee. “You did great up there. I watched you beat those eggs like a pro. Maybe someday, you’ll want to join me in the kitchen at the diner.”
I scrunched my nose and held up my hands. “Do you seriously not remember the time I nearly burned down the diner making toast?”
Her blue eyes narrowed as her eyes glazed over with memory. “Oh. Yeah.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” I said with a laugh. “First, the competition. Then, maybe...possibly...in a few years...I’ll think about helping in the kitchen again.”
She laughed and nodded in agreement, tweaking my cheek gently.
Lexi popped up from the other side of her. “Come on, Char. We’ve got ten minutes for Operation Cowboy. That’s plenty of time to accomplish a little flirting. Let’s go.”
“Operation Cowboy?” I stared at my mom, wide-eyed, as Lexi pulled me from my chair with surprising force for someone so small. I was hoping for a little motherly intervention, but she just smiled knowingly, then looked away. So much for that. “F-f-flirting? I’m not sure I’m ready.”
“Sure you are.” She nodded and set her jaw like a mini-Joan of Arc, then led us toward the judges’ table. “Last night we laid the plans. Now, we act. I’ll help. I’ll be your wing-woman. There’s Graham. Let’s do this.”
Before I could dig my Sketchers into the fading linoleum tile, we’d arrived. All three guys looked incredibly bored. Hunter cradled his cheek with his right hand, his elbow propped up on the table as his eyes drooped. Rhett snored softly, using his massive arms as a pillow. And Graham played with his phone, grinning at something he was typing.
“Hi, Graham.” Lexi dropped her hand from my arm and stood in front of him, tapping the toe of her flip flop on the ground until he dragged his eyes away from his screen to look up at her. “How’s it going?”
“Good.” I didn’t miss the slight hesitation in his eyes before he covered it up with an oily smooth grin. “How you ladies doing?”
“Oh, we’re good.”
She elbowed me hard in the rib. I gasped, drawing Graham’s dark gaze to my face. Right then and there, I decided that Lexi was officially evil. With a slight whimper and an apologetic smile, I nodded at him.
“Good. We’re doing good. Really good. Perfectly good.”
His brow furrowed slightly. “Right...”
So much for Operation Cowboy. This was Operation Humiliation. I didn’t know how to flirt. That was Lexi’s territory. She could flirt with a brick and get its phone number. I was hopeless.
Still, Lexi wasn’t giving up easily. As the silence stretched awkwardly between us, she gave me a heated glare that could’ve fried an egg on my face.
“So...Graham...what events do you ride in for the rodeo?” I asked, shrugging at her. My question seemed to cool her off slightly. She glanced expectantly at Graham, a soft smile on her face.
“Bull and bronc,” he said, perking up enough to abandon his phone for a second on the table.
I bit my lower lip. “Sounds dangerous.”
He chuckl
ed and cocked his head to one side. “I prefer the dangerous events. They’re the big prize winners. I leave the sissy events to the pansies like Rhett here.”
Rhett grunted in his sleep and Graham’s grin grew a bit wider.
“Maybe that’s because you couldn’t hit the broadside of a barn with a rope if you tried,” Hunter shot back. I hadn’t even realized he’d woken up from his stupor, but he was alert now and fixing Graham with a glare.
Graham returned it with a withering stare of his own and then a dismissive grunt. Turning toward us in his seat, just enough to block Hunter from his view, he picked his cell off the table and handed it to me.
“Why don’t you put your number in there, beautiful?” he asked, turning back on the oozing charm with very little effort. “Maybe we could hang sometime.”
I ran my fingers over the edge of his phone, a hard pit forming in my stomach. A glance up at Lexi’s barely contained smile told me Operation Cowboy was succeeding. But a look down the table at Hunter made the pit turn into a gnawing mass. He was staring straight ahead, rage simmering in his eyes, the muscles in his jaw clenched tight. His fingers curled into white-knuckled fists as he crossed his arms over his chest.
Hunter obviously didn’t like this guy. And if Hunter didn’t like him, there was a good reason for it. But Lexi had her heart set on finding me a cowboy to help with the competition. And maybe having a little extra motivation to win, besides stomping Sarah, couldn’t hurt after all.
My gut was pulling me in two different directions. It was impossible to make a decision. But then my alarm went off on the cell phone in my pocket, erasing all thoughts about putting my number into strange boys’ phones.
“That’s my pie,” I said, sliding Graham’s cell back onto the table.
Hurrying toward the oven, I bit the inside of my cheek in excitement. In all probability, it still had a few minutes to go. I’d set the timer early just to make sure I didn’t over cook it. Brown sugar pies were easy to burn. If my toast disaster at the diner had taught me anything, it was to always set the oven for a shorter time. I wouldn’t make that mistake again.
Dare You to Resist the Bull Rider (Rock Valley High Book 4) Page 8
