Some Like It Hot (Sweetrock Cowboy Romance Book 1) (4 page)

Across the way, Nick was flirting with a brunette who Sam had noticed hovering by his crockpot several times that day. Not that she was counting. Apparently, he’d gotten over her rejection pretty quick.

She threw the towel into the sink. Her booth was clean enough and suddenly she couldn’t wait to get away from the fairgrounds. Tonight, the faster and further she got away from Nick Bradford, the better.

* * *

N
ick’s eyes
drifted over Evelyn’s shoulder as she rambled on. Nick wasn’t paying any attention to what the brunette said. He was more interested in Sam, who was vigorously scrubbing down her tables. Sam was chewing her bottom lip, a habit he’d noticed she had when she was thinking. His thoughts alternated between wondering what she was thinking so hard about and wishing it was his lip that her teeth were nibbling on.

Damn, that girl could get him all riled up! Had she really thought he was trying to get some chili cooking secret out of her?

“So what about it, Nicky?”

Nick brought his attention back to Evelyn. She was cute, he supposed. But he wasn’t interested. Not since…his eyes drifted back over to Sam, her jet black hair gleamed in the sun. Though he couldn’t see her eyes, he wondered if they would be light gray like the first time he’d met her, or if he would see that slate blue tinge they’d had when they had been dancing.

“Nicky?”

His eyes flicked back to Evelyn. “Sorry. What?”

“You wanna go have a beer at The Bull Sheep?”

“Oh.” Nick sucked in a breath. He’d noticed Evelyn had come by his booth several times, but it hadn’t dawned on him that she’d been working up the nerve to ask him out. He just assumed she liked his chili. Dang, he hated the feeling of getting turned down, and he didn’t want to be the one to inflict that on Evelyn, but he really didn’t want to go drinking with her. He had a big mess to clean up here. “Sorry, Evelyn, but I got a lot to do here, and then I have to work at the restaurant…”

“Okay, no biggie.” She sauntered off, giving Nick a clear view of Sam’s booth. But Sam was gone, her booth sparkling clean. The other chili contestants had closed up shop for the day, and it was time for Nick to do the same.

Looking around his own tent, he realized it was quite messy compared to Sam’s. How did she keep all her stuff so organized? And why had she seemed so surprised that he kept track of his purchases by the wad of money in his pocket? He’d seen her jotting stuff down in a little notebook throughout the day. Was she recording her sales?

His eyes drifted to the board at the end of the row. Tomorrow morning, they would post the name of the leader. That went by voting, though, not sales. No matter how many bowls of chili you sold, if people didn’t like it, they wouldn’t vote. And the votes were the only thing that counted toward the grand prize, so who cared about keeping track of sales?

Of course, he could use the money from the sales since he was flat broke, but that alone wouldn’t be enough to get his restaurant out of foreclosure.

Thoughts of losing the family restaurant reminded him that he should be focusing on the chili contest and not the cute cook across the aisle. She’d practically ruined his cooking the entire day. He couldn’t stop sneaking glances over at her, noticing how the apron hugged her thin waist or how tight her jeans fit when she bent over to grab something out of one of her coolers.

He couldn’t forget the way she’d felt in his arms the previous night, all soft and sensuous. He’d never had such a strong reaction to a woman before…too bad this one seemed to want to have nothing to do with him. It was embarrassing the way he was making a fool of himself over her. Even Cash had noticed. He’d ridden him pretty hard about the thing on the dance floor the night before and even today he’d joked that Nick was so distracted by Sam that his chili had no heat.

Was that true?

Nick dipped a spoon into the last crockpot that hadn’t been cleaned. The tangy taste of spices and savory browned meat mixed with the acid of the tomatoes was nearly perfect. Nearly. It could use a little more heat, though. Here in Montana, most people liked their chili hot and spicy—the hotter, the better. He’d better make sure he had enough ghost peppers to ratchet up the heat.

He rummaged around in the vegetable bin, looked in several plastic grocery bags and then finally in the cooler where he found the hot peppers. Only one ghost pepper left. He better get to the store and buy some more.

It was already past six, and the other tents were closed up. Technically he couldn’t sell any more chili tonight, and there was no one in the aisle anyway. Everyone had wandered off to watch the rodeo. He quickly wiped down the table in the front and then closed his flap, walked to the parking lot and got into his Ford F150 then drove toward town.

Sweetrock had two supermarkets, one a big chain market and the other family-owned for the last hundred years. Nick liked to frequent and support the family owned market, Dickinson’s.

Dickinson’s was a lot smaller than the chain store, but it had everything Nick needed and they prided themselves on stocking local food whenever possible. The cool, air-conditioned temperature was a welcome respite from the heat as Nick stepped inside, greeting a few of his friends and neighbors as he did. His eyes fell on Beulah in the checkout lane, a pile of produce on the counter in front of her.

“Hey, Beulah. You need me to carry these bags out for you?” Nick asked.

Beulah scowled at him. “I don’t need any help from any young whippersnappers. I can handle my own groceries. Been doing it for almost eighty years. I’m just picking up some things for the chili cook-off tomorrow to make my chili before I head out to The Chuckwagon. Are you on in the kitchen tonight?”

Nick nodded. Now that his parents were gone, he rarely left the restaurant preferring to be there as much as possible, just in case he was needed. He'd hardly even gone out for drinks—other than last night—in months.

Cooking was Nick’s passion, though, so he didn’t mind being in the kitchen. He was known for his perfectly seared steaks, trail grub dishes and giant burgers. He took pride in his food and people came from all over to eat it. At least they used to…lately, it seemed only the regulars stopped in. If he didn’t need the ten thousand dollars from the chili contest so desperately, he never would have spent so much time away from the restaurant.

His eyes fell on the ghost peppers in Beulah’s pile, and he remembered why he was there.

She noticed him looking. “If you’re after ghost peppers for the chili, you better hurry. There’s only one left.”

Nick’s chest tightened. He’d better hurry on up, then. He turned toward the pepper aisle, addressing Beulah over his shoulder. “Thanks, Beul. See you at the restaurant.”

He knew just where the peppers were. Last aisle on the right just around the corner from the onions. He skidded around the corner, his eyes homing in on that one ghost pepper sitting in the bin all by itself.

He reached his hand out toward the pepper. At the same time, a much smaller and daintier hand reached for the same pepper.

Nick’s hand closed over the pepper as he looked down at the other hand’s owner.

“Sam?”

His hand was still wrapped around the pepper. Hers hovered uncertainly in the air. He’d gotten there first, but somehow the victory didn’t seem very sweet.

She withdrew her hand and frowned at him. “Nick. Figures you would be here after the same pepper. I’ll just have to have them restock.”

Nick pulled the shiny red pepper out of the bin and held it in the palm of his hand. “They don’t have any extra stock out back here. Everything’s fresh. If there’s no more in the bin at this time of night, then this is the last one.”

“What do you mean?” Nick’s heart melted at the desperate look of disappointment in her eyes. He’d do just about anything to make that look go away.

But why was she so disappointed? Surely, the contest wasn’t that important to her. He’d figured she’d entered on some kind of lark. Something to occupy her time before she went back to Boston.

He looked down at the pepper in his hand. “There won’t be any more until tomorrow afternoon.”

“I already checked the big grocery store, and they don’t even carry them.” Sam’s voice drooped in defeat.

Nick almost gave her the pepper, but then thoughts of his sister and niece flashed through his mind. He needed to win the chili contest for them. After what Rena’s jerk of an ex had done to her, they deserved it. He was all Rena and Amy had now, and he couldn’t let them down any more than he already had by not being able to save the restaurant.

The pink foreclosure notice flashed through his mind. He needed this win a lot more than Sam did. But the devastated look on her face twisted his heart. He couldn’t give the pepper to Sam but maybe…

He snapped the pepper in half. “I guess we’ll just have to share it.”

Maybe only having half a ghost pepper would make his chili less hot, but with the way Sam was smiling at him, he couldn’t help but feel that he’d done the right thing. And even if giving her half the pepper meant he’d jeopardized his chances of winning the chili contest, the way she made him feel right now made it totally worth it.

S
am tightened
her apron and glanced at the scoreboard. She was tied for first place with Nick. She glanced over at his tent. The morning sun sparked off the messy array of stainless steel canisters and spice containers scattered on his tables. Then she looked at the half of the ghost pepper on her cutting board. The small red pepper packed a powerful punch, but would half be enough to boost up the heat of her chili?

She wouldn’t even have that if it wasn’t for Nick’s generosity. She looked over again and their eyes locked. She held up the pepper and mouthed a ‘thanks’, earning her a bright smile that kicked at her heart.

Their gaze held for a few seconds until someone stepped up to Nick’s booth, blocking her view. Soon there would be lots of other customers looking to eat chili. Sam better get cooking if she wanted a fresh batch to offer them.

Her phone erupted in song, and she looked down at where it lay on the table. Her mother. She let it go to voicemail. She felt bad about avoiding their calls, but talking to her parents meant lying, and she hated lying. Besides, she didn’t have time now. She had to get cooking.

Soon she was lost in the mindless task of chopping, cooking, and combining. Pinto beans, garlic, oregano, tomato sauce, cumin, chili powder, ground beef, salt, habanero pepper, and jalapeños. These were all part of her grandmother’s recipe. Then she chopped up her half of the ghost pepper and added a little bit to the pot, saving the rest for future batches.

No sooner was she done than the customers started to arrive. There were more today than the day before, and she was kept busy ladling out the chili to which she added a wedge of lime, sprinkled shredded cheese, and a biscuit.

When the crowds finally thinned enough for her to glance over into Nick’s tent, she was upset to see that it looked like things weren’t going as well for him as they were for her.

Nick stood in his tent, his hair shaggy from rubbing his hand through it, his apron stained, five o’clock shadow on his chin. Sam’s fingertips tingled wondering how it would feel to brush them against that stubble. Better yet, how would it feel if the stubble was brushed against her own lips…her neck…her thighs. Better not be having those kinds of thoughts. They would only distract her, and she had much more important goals than a one-night stand with a cowboy, even if he was hotter than the ghost pepper she’d just added to the chili.

Across the way, Nick was opening one tin after another, looking inside and then tossing the tin back on the table. Obviously, he was looking for something, but the disorganized mess that was his work area made it hard for him to find it. From the looks of things, he was becoming distraught. Sam’s heart pinched for him. If his area weren’t such a mess, it would be a lot easier for him to get his cooking done. She could easily clean that area up and organize it for him in a few minutes. In fact, she should do that now. It was the least she could do considering how he’d shared the pepper with her. And if she missed selling a few bowls of chili—well, then, so be it.

She peeled off her food prep gloves and started over, but before she got out of her tent, a curly-haired blonde stormed up to Nick. Sam hesitated. She couldn’t hear what they were saying but it looked like they were arguing about something.

Maybe now wasn’t a good time?

Customers started lining up again, and Sam absently served chili while she watched the argument across the aisle. She could tell they were upset. Their faces were inches apart, their hands gesturing rapidly. Then Nick backed off, scrubbed a hand over his face then put both hands gently on the girl’s shoulders. Sam couldn’t hear what he was saying, but whatever it was must have placated her. Then he kissed her forehead.

Wait a minute, was that Nick’s girlfriend?

While Sam tried to process that, a little girl of about seven or eight ran into the booth. She had blonde hair just like the woman and bore a striking resemblance to Nick, who whirled her up in the air with ease, spinning her around, then tickling her side before putting the giggling girl gently down again.

Nick had a kid? Was he married? Obviously, he cared very much for the child, but what the hell did he think he was pulling?

What a jerk! Here he was practically kissing her the other night on the dance floor and asking her out last night and the whole time he was involved with someone?

And to think she was going to help him organize his cooking area. No matter that he’d shared the stupid pepper with her—she didn’t want to have anything to do with him now.

Thoughts of another blonde came to mind. Lizette. The woman that Eddie had dumped her for and who had also had gotten her fired from her job. Why was it always a blonde? Probably for the best that she hadn't
actually
kissed Nick.

Sam’s eyes drifted to the scoreboard. This morning she hadn’t minded that they were tied, especially since Nick had shared the pepper with her. The peace offering had dampened her urge to win. But now that it was clear that he was trying to play her, she was going to pull out all the stops to beat him. She had to do something to give herself an edge. Something that would draw more customers to her booth and give her more chili sales and, therefore, more chances for votes.

Sam reached for her purse and her grandmother’s recipe, had a panicky moment when it wasn’t there, then remembered it was in her back pocket. Pulling it out, she squinted through the chili-smeared plastic to study the ingredients. She’d shown the recipe to Tessa, who had been shocked that she carried the original around. Tessa had suggested typing it up, making copies, and putting the original in a safe place, but Sam didn’t want more than one copy floating around. She wanted to keep the only copy strictly in her possession where no one else could get ahold of it.

Over in his booth, Nick now had his arm around the perky blonde. His eyes locked on Sam’s, then dropped to the recipe in her hand. Her back stiffened, and she shoved it into her back pocket. No way did she want him getting his eyes on that.

She might have softened toward Nick Bradford this morning, but that was gone now. Obviously, he’d just been cozying up to her to find out her secrets. Well, now it was ‘game on’. She’d smoke him in the contest, and then she’d take the grand prize and the side-bet money with no qualms.

But what was she going to do to attract more customers? She watched as a middle-aged couple stopped at Nick’s booth. The husband filled his bowl to the brim with chili, but the wife only took a small portion. She was more interested in the corn bread. Made sense. Sam had seen at her own booth that the men preferred big bowls of meat-laden chili while the women liked the cornbread better. From her extensive restaurant experience, she knew that men and women usually preferred different types of foods.

Suddenly, Sam knew exactly what to do to get more customers.