Not when the stakes were so high.
But, as I opened the door to my oven, a nasty, burnt smell filled the air. I gasped in horror, finding the top of my pie black as Ms. Gentry’s dress. It had burned! After everything I’d done. After all the prep. It just didn’t make sense.
Cursing under my breath, I quickly grasped a pair of potholders and reached for my pie. It was hot. Scorching hot. And my speed had made me careless with the potholders. Flinging the pie onto the table, I shoved my burnt finger in my mouth and whimpered in disappointment.
My pie was ruined. Wrecked. A disaster.
So much for that perfect score.
“Oh, no! What happened? Did it burn?” Sarah gasped in horror at my pie still steaming on the tabletop as she turned from checking on her own in the little oven next to mine. With a slight shrug of her shoulders, she made a disappointed sigh. “I should’ve warned you not to leave your post. I had the feeling something bad would happen. That’s what happens when we get careless.”
Something about her condescending tone set my hackles off. But I had no time to address it. Ms. Gentry was in front of the tables again, fixing all of us with a firm frown.
“Just a few minutes remaining, ladies. Please bring your pies to the judging table for your marks.”
With adrenaline racing through my veins, I snatched a fork from my supply bag and quickly began scraping off the burnt top of my pie. Maybe the awful flavor hadn’t reached all the way down to the crust. If I could salvage what was left of it, I might still get a decent score.
I did what I could to save it. It was like a pie ICU. I could practically hear the vital monitors beeping in the background, warning me of impending death if I didn’t move quickly. An artful swirl of whipped cream on the top was the last touch I could think of to distract from the mess I’d made on top of my beautiful pie. With a nervous smile, I delivered the dish to the judging table and stood back to watch the boys eat.
“How’d you do?” Geminia appeared at my elbow, still sporting some flour on her nose and cheeks.
I dragged the tips of my fingers down over my face. “Somehow, I scorched it. I don’t even know how it happened. I was so careful with my timer. Now, I’m just hoping I took off enough of the burnt part so they don’t give me last place.”
A little line appeared between her eyes as she frowned. “Did you set the right temp?”
“Yes, of course.” I gestured over my shoulder at the oven. “Three hundred and twenty-five, just like the recipe said...”
But when my eyes landed on the oven that was still on, it didn’t say three hundred and twenty-five degrees. It was at four fifty. Way higher than on my mom’s recipe card.
“Uh, oh.” Geminia was frowning at the oven, too. “I sense sabotage...and it smells like a burnt pie.”
Rage broiled in my stomach. It was no wonder Sarah’s comments had set me off. She’d messed with my oven. She’d burned my pie. And now, she was going to win the competition with her nauseating little heart-covered cinnamon apple pie. It was so wrong, I almost wanted to vomit right then and there.
“She can’t do this.” I took a step forward, as the guys began to taste the first pie. “It isn’t right.”
Geminia’s hand wrapped around my wrist, gently pulling me back. “You can’t do this here, Charlotte.”
I resisted her tug and took another step in Sarah’s direction. “Why? Everyone lets her get away with everything. She needs to fess up for once.”
“You know Ms. Gentry wouldn’t approve and you’d lose even more points.” I looked back at her and her brown eyes drilled into mine with compassion. “Come on, let’s bide our time and get our own kind of revenge. What do you say?”
As crazy mad as Sarah’s deception made me feel, it was nice to have Geminia unquestioningly backing me. The girls I’d hung out with this year had always taken Sarah’s side. Now, I didn’t feel so alone.
“Right. You’re right. Some other time.”
I crossed my arms and glared at the back of Sarah’s perfect head of hair. The boys were digging into her pie and making clear sounds of enjoyment as they jotted down numbers on their score sheets.
Mine was next.
Suddenly, that sheep washing was sounding a little more appealing.
Hunter gave me a little thumbs-up as the pie was moved in front of them. I was thankful for my best friend’s enthusiasm, but things had only gotten worse since I’d dropped off the baked good for judging. The whipped cream I’d added last minute had broken down into a melted pool of milky water, thanks to the residual heat of the pie.
It was a literal hot mess.
I watched Hunter’s face as he dipped his fork into the pie and took a bite. The slight clenching of his eyes when it touched his tongue was all it took to tell me I was a goner. The other guys didn’t hold in their disgust as well. Graham spit out his bite into a nearby napkin and Rhett swallowed down the lump before hastily gulping from his water bottle.
“Interesting taste.” Hunter worked the bite around his mouth, wincing a tad. I could tell he was trying to avoid my gaze, even as he endured this torture for my sake. “Really unique.”
“Yeah, if you like eating campfire ashes for dessert,” Graham said, pushing the pie away. “That one sucked.”
Rhett grunted his agreement.
Ms. Gentry clapped her hands sharply. She’d been presiding over the judging like an eagle perched on a tree, waiting for an innocent mouse to show itself. “Gentlemen, please. The rest of the pies.”
Whelp, that was it.
I dropped into a nearby chair and cradled my head in defeat until the judging was finished. Luckily, I wasn’t the only one who hadn’t made a culinary splash. A couple of the pies were under-baked and the crying girl at the end had used ten times the amount of salt the recipe called for, which left the judges gagging. When the score sheets were finally passed out, I’d landed solidly in fourth place. Sarah had taken first.
No surprise there.
“It wasn’t that bad, Charlotte.” Hunter knelt on the floor next to my chair where I was still having a pity party. He squeezed my knee and waited until I had the strength to lift my gaze to his.
“It was like eating a campfire,” I said in a monotone voice, frowning at him.
Humor twinkled in his eye as he tried to hold back a smile. “I happen to like campfires.”
“You like sitting around a campfire. You don’t like eating them.”
His lips twitched in another smile. “Maybe. But I’d eat it if you made it. You know that.”
I did know that. Hunter really was the best.
“Listen, we’re getting together tonight at Harry’s after the 4H events are done.” He settled back on the heels of his boots, his eyes shining with excitement.
“The bar?” I went to rub my eyes, then stopped when I remembered all the makeup Lexi had put on me. “They let kids in?”
“They’re opening it up for all ages tonight. No alcohol. Just a bunch of fair kids and good food. They’ve even got a mechanical bull. I can show you how to ride.”
I laughed and pushed him playfully. “Whatever. I’m sure I’m a natural. I’ll probably beat your ride. You’ll be taking lessons from me.”
“That’s a bet I’m willing to take.” He smiled and then his hazel eyes searched my face. “So, you’re in?”
“Yeah, I suppose I could use the distraction.” I rubbed my palms on the top of my thighs. “And I’m sure Lexi and Beth won’t want to miss a chance to hook me up with a cowboy. It’s their mission in life to make me die of embarrassment.”
The excitement faded from his face. He opened his mouth to say something, then snapped it shut. With a shrug, he stood back up and took a step backwards.
“Right. Okay. See you there.”
“Sure.”
“Good.”
His stiff and sudden retreat wasn’t like the Hunter I was used to. There was no warm smile. No teasing shove, like we would’ve done as kids. My gut tw
isted with uncertainty. What was happening between us? Why couldn’t he just tell me what was wrong?
With every step he took further away, it seemed to suck the warmth out the room. A shiver ran through me. I kept my eyes glued to his retreating figure until my Mom, Lexi, and Beth surrounded me, demanding to know what had happened to my pie. By the time I could look for him again, he was gone.
And that pit had returned to my stomach.
Chapter Eleven
I thought things couldn’t get any more country than the 4H fair.
I was wrong.
Harry’s Bar and Grill was like the holy land of everything cowboy, farm hand, and country rolled together. Wooden shiplap covered the walls and dozens of framed posters of old Western movies hung from mounted deer antlers. Twangy country music boomed through the speakers, while the smell of fried greasy food was thick in the air.
Some people had already started up a line dance on the wooden dance floor. Several families ate with their young 4Hers over in the dining section, but a majority of the customers were high schoolers hanging near the bar sipping Cokes and munching on baskets of peanuts. That included Sarah, who was already surrounded by a flock of boys as she sat on a barstool and crossed her bare, shapely legs with just the right amount of flirtation.
I was so not ready to face that tonight.
“Did we just teleport to Texas?” Beth wondered aloud beside me.
With her black Call of Duty t-shirt and track pants with the white stripe up the side, she looked totally out of place. Lexi wasn’t doing much better. She might have wrestled up a pair of red cowgirl boots to wear to tonight’s event, but the perfect upsweep of her hair into a high ponytail and sparkly highlighter on her cheekbones made her look much too high-maintenance to be hanging out in a scene like this.
“I’ve always wanted to go to Texas,” Lexi said, rubbing her hands excitedly. “Come on, let’s go order a Shirley Temple.”
“I’ll catch up with you in a bit,” I said, waving at them. They could head toward the piranha in heels if they wanted. I had other places to be. “I want to find Hunter first.”
We’d left off in such a weird place at the fair today, I’d been itching to see him face-to-face again to make sure we were okay. I wasn’t sure what was up with him lately. Or, why we couldn’t just settle back into our friendship roles as easily as I’d hoped.
Maybe I hadn’t given him enough time to adjust to being back home. I was sure it was hard, moving around all the time. I’d lived in one place all my life, so I couldn’t relate. But I knew that after a few more days, all these growing pains would be gone, and everything would go back to the way it was.
It wasn’t hard to find Hunter, even in the crowded bar. It was kind of like I had a sixth sense when it came to him. As I’d suspected, I found him leaning against the barrier to the mechanical bull, one of his round-toed boots resting on the bottom rung, and laughing as a guy was thrown from the bull to the thick mat-covered floor.
My feet came to a stop several feet away from him, my heart beginning to race. He’d worn a black pearl-snap shirt that was tucked into the top of his jeans. The material stretched across his muscular back, reminding me once again of the bulk Hunter had put on this last year. It looked good on him.
But more distracting than that was the way he laughed. I’d heard that laugh a million times before, but it had never made my gut twist with need the way it did now. He really did have a great laugh. And the soft way his lips curled as he smiled could make a girl swoon. I wondered if I touched his cheek, if the beginnings of his scruffy beard would feel rough like sandpaper or soft, like feather down—
“Who’s up next?” someone called as the mechanical bull wound down.
The question broke me from my stupor and suddenly all the blood rushed to my face. Thank goodness Hunter hadn’t caught me staring at him like that. He would’ve known each and every forbidden thought running through my head.
And I would’ve had to die.
“I’ll go next,” I said, raising my hand high in the air. Maybe the best thing to do was violently shake these impulses out of my head.
Hunter turned around, his eyes lighting up when they landed on me. “Hey, Char. You here to dominate like you promised?”
“Always,” I said, scrunching up my face. That powerful need in my stomach hadn’t gone away yet. Hunter’s hazel eyes slowly trailing over my body wasn’t helping things, either.
“Nice outfit.” His gaze darted back up to my eyes, warmth glinting in them. “I like the boots, too.”
I smiled at him. The lacy cream dress and leggings had been hand-selected by Lexi herself. She’d maintained that this was still a Rodeo Queen event and that she had to dress me. I’d gotten her to tone down the eyeshadow and height of my hair by promising to wear my mom’s old tan cowgirl boots. For the first time in a long time, when I’d looked in the mirror tonight, I felt really good about myself. No more worries about bleating sheep and burnt pies and evil frenemies.
For once, it felt like I could actually relax.
“Thanks.” I came up beside him and leaned on the railing. “Tonight was a good excuse to get dressed up for once. Think I fit in?”
“Well, you definitely look like a cowgirl.” His gaze slid down to my boots again and his nostrils widened as he took a deep breath. “A really...sexy cowgirl.”
I just about fell over the railing. A sexy cowgirl? Hunter had never said anything like that to me before tonight. He couldn’t have been serious. No, it was definitely a joke. He was probably just hoping to mess with me. To get into my head before the competition.
Righting myself, I laughed softly and pushed him playfully on the shoulder. “You’re trying to get me all flustered before I beat you on this beast,” I said, nodding toward the bull.
He chuckled softly and rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks reddening. “Ha...yeah. That’s the strategy. Is it working yet?”
I leaned toward him and poked his chest with my index finger. “It’s never going to work. You can’t get to me, Hunter McNally.”
“That’s too bad, Charlotte Hale.” He captured my finger with his hand and held it tight, his gaze searing into mine. Emotions churned in his hazel eyes. “But...at least I tried.”
My teasing smile melted from my face as that need in my stomach came roaring back, stronger than ever. The feel of his fingers wrapped around mine was sending electric shocks down my arms. I bit my bottom lip, unsure whether to pull away or melt into him.
The tiny twitch of his lips into a frown made me wonder if he knew about the tug-o-war raging in my head. I was surprised he didn’t run away scared. Or at the very least, give me a serious lecture about the sanctity of friendship. I could’ve used that right about now. Something to pound some sense into me.
“Come on up, little lady, we’re ready,” the man standing by the controls said, capturing my attention.
Hunter dropped my hand suddenly and stepped away, as if he’d been caught doing something wrong. I glanced back over at him, but his gaze was firmly glued to the floor, his brow heavy with thought.
Maybe he really did know what I’d been thinking.
Somebody needed to muzzle my hormonal brain.
“All right, I’m coming,” I said, turning away from Hunter.
Anything was better than standing there, wondering just how awkward I was making things for him. Hustling a little more than necessary, I walked down through the gate and climbed onto the thick mats surrounding the bull.
The strange-looking animal had been covered in dark tan leather, with soft, white horns, and was missing any legs. The leather was a bit worn and the seat rubbed smooth from repeated use. My hands shook a bit as I grabbed the rope behind the bull’s neck and pulled myself up. It was nerve-wracking enough to try this with a dozen people watching along the railing. I couldn’t imagine how Hunter felt for a rodeo competition.
“Charlotte, you’ve just got to last eight seconds,” Hunter called. I looked o
ver to see him leaning far over the railing, pointing at the bull. “Hold the rope with your right hand. Grip hard with your knees. Rock in the opposite direction of its movements. You can do this!”
A spattering of cheers followed his notes of encouragement. I shot him a beaming smile and then nodded to the bull man. “Okay. I’m ready. Let’s do this.”
My heart had morphed into a hollow tin cup shaking a rock around. It pulsed erratically, beating against my chest. The machine inside the bull began to whirl, causing it to move slowly in a circle. My knees clenched tighter on its thick girth, keeping me steady. I started to rock against it, just like Hunter had instructed.
Time seemed to slow. The bull’s movements became more unpredictable and my arm strained with the effort it took to hold on tight. Loose curls fell into my face, but I did my best to ignore them. All I could do was focus on the motion of the bull and the sound of the crowd cheering. For all I knew, I’d been on there an hour already. Every muscle in my body protested, my eyes dizzy from the spinning. When a shrill alarm finally sounded, the bull began to wind down and I could finally see again.
“That a girl!” Hunter hopped over the railing to come toward me. He grabbed my waist on both sides and lifted me off the bull with impressive strength, setting me gently on the mat beside him. “Eight seconds. You’re a pro!”
“That was only eight seconds?” My breath came in and out in excited puffs. “It felt like a lifetime.”
He grinned down at me. “It’s the only scientifically proven way to slow time. How’d you like it?”
So many emotions came bubbling out of me at once. I bounced on my toes and threw my arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug as my stomach dipped. “That was so amazing! I understand now why you like it so much.”
He chuckled low and wrapped his arms firmly around my back, pulling me tighter. “I’m glad, Char. I really am.”
“It’s your turn.” I pulled back and pinned him with a smile. “I did my eight seconds. Now, your turn to impress me, cowboy.”
Dare You to Resist the Bull Rider (Rock Valley High Book 4) Page 9
