Vicki Lewis Thompson - Cowboy All Night

“I guess you’re right.” He lit the match with the butane and eased it toward the chicken. The brandy caught with a whoosh and fire leaped from the frying pan.

Everyone gave a little gasp—everyone except Aria and Herb. She watched the flames with a smile of satisfaction.

Herb picked up the fire extinguisher. “Shouldn’t you put the lid on the pan to smother that?”

“It’ll burn down in a minute,” Aria said.

Rosie gestured toward the flames. “See, Herb? This is why I never tried to make coq au vin.”

“For which I’m grateful.” He lowered the fire extinguisher as the fire gradually died.

Lexi stepped closer and peered into the frying pan. “That was cool.”

“I like a little drama in my cooking. Keeps things interesting.”

Brant filed that statement away as another clue to her personality. So far he’d pegged her as somewhat driven, a trait that he associated with his dad’s workaholic behavior. But unlike his father, she wasn’t a martyr. She’d found a creative outlet that gave her a joyful purpose.

That still didn’t leave room for him to approach her other than as the owner of the foal he’d agreed to train. He hadn’t come here expecting anything else. But he hadn’t pictured working with Aria, either. She was damn near irresistible and he’d have to resist. Somehow.

“That’s the showiest part.” Aria added the cooked onions and bacon to the pan. Then she poured some red wine over everything.

“I was wondering where the wine came in,” Lexi said. “Have you taught your students to make this?”

“Last Monday.”

“I didn’t realize a cooking class could be so exciting.” Lexi turned to Cade. “How about you and me signing up for some classes?”

“Sure, I’m game.”

“I’d love to have you.” Aria sprinkled in some herbs and more wine. “But just so you know, there’s no class this Monday. Camille always stays open on Memorial Day, so I’ll be making deliveries for her.” She put the lid on the frying pan. “That needs to simmer for about thirty minutes before I put in the mushrooms.”

“Hallelujah! Time to head for the watering hole.” Brant gestured toward the table. “After you, ma’am.”

“You go ahead. I need to sauté the mushrooms.”

“I’d offer to do it for you but sauté sounds like a square-dance move to me.”

“I could do it,” Lexi said, “but I hesitate to meddle with such an elaborate concoction.”

Rosie nodded. “Same here.”

“I’ll be done in a few minutes.” Aria dropped some butter into another frying pan.

Her comment had a familiar ring. His dad used to promise that the business call he had to make would only take a few minutes and then he’d be available to play catch, or go to a movie, or take a hike. Those promises had rarely panned out.

Maybe he should douse this flame of lust before it got him into trouble. “Your bubbly will be waiting for you.” He picked up her champagne flute along with his and walked over to the table.

“’Bout time you showed up.” Cade slid open a box of kitchen matches and dumped it in the middle of the table.

Rosie groaned. “Here we go.”

“Brant Ellison?” Cade looked up, his green eyes sparkling.

“Dear God, you’ve gone senile. You don’t recognize me anymore.”

“I recognize you just fine, and I hereby challenge you to an official Battle of the Sacred Flame.”

“A Battle of the Sacred Flame.” Lexi grinned. “I haven’t heard those fateful words in years. Takes me back.”

“Doesn’t it, though?” Rosie shook her head. “Ah, for the good old days filled with testosterone and the smell of sulfur. I’d love to know what bonehead started this activity but nobody will say.”

As Brant sat at the table and reached for the champagne bottle, he avoided looking at Herb. Rumor had it that Herb had taught Cade how to light a match this way. Then Cade had taught Damon Harrison, the second boy to arrive, and so on. The trick had spread like...well, wildfire. “What’s on the line?”

“I would say your reputation.” Cade folded his arms and smiled. “But you obviously don’t give a damn about that if you’d surrender to a butane lighter, so let’s make it interesting. First guy who fails to light a match will wash the other guy’s truck in the morning.”

Brant thought of his mud-spattered vehicle. Old Bessie hadn’t been near a hose and a bucket for at least a month. “Have you seen my truck?”

“Not up close, but it doesn’t matter. Judging from your recent performance, you’ll be washing my truck.”

“And if it’s a tie,” Lexi said, “you can both wash my truck.”

“My van could use a wash,” Aria said as she stirred the mushrooms. “I planned on driving out here in the morning, anyway, so I can see Linus.”

Brant perked up at that announcement. Logically she should have tomorrow morning free and he’d planned to ask her if she’d come to the ranch. Instead she’d volunteered to come back, so she was making the foal a priority. Good news for Linus.

“That works,” Lexi said. “I’ll share.”

“I like this bet now.” Rosie sipped her champagne. “Puts a different spin on things. Too bad Herb just washed our truck or I’d get in on it.”

Herb leaned forward. “I won’t tell you not to have this contest, but that’s a full box. I’d advise you to set a limit on the number of matches per contestant. You can’t be lighting matches while we eat.”

“Might be sort of festive,” Brant said. “Take a bite, light a match. Take a bite, light a match.”

“Might be sort of stupid.” Cade gazed across the table at him. “What do you think? Thirty?”

“Thirty it is.” Brant dug a quarter out of his jeans pocket and flipped it in the air. “Call it.”

“Heads.”

“And it’s tails, my friend. Which is a sign that my luck has turned.” Brant counted out thirty matches and leaned back in his chair. “Light ’er up, loser.”

“Wait.” Aria hurried over to the table. “I want to see this Battle of the Sacred Flame.”

“Then allow me to be your champion.” Brant stood and pulled out her chair.

“Hang on.” Cade paused, a match in his hand. “She only said she wanted to watch. She didn’t say anything about making you her champion.”

Brant shrugged. “Seems only right. You have a fair maiden rooting for you, so I should be able to—”

“I’m actually rooting for a tie,” Lexi said. “I want my truck washed.”

“That’s my stake in this, too.” Aria took her seat.

Oh, really? Brant reevaluated the situation. A woman who didn’t want to have anything to do with a man wouldn’t jump into a contest that might cause that man to wash her vehicle. Would she?

“Right on, girlfriend.” Lexi exchanged a high-five with her.

Brant decided to go with it. “Looks like we’re on our own, bro. No fair maidens cheering us on like in the good old days.”

“Just as well. This won’t take long.” Cade leaned forward and locked his gaze with Brant’s as he flicked the match with this thumbnail. It ignited. “And that’s how it’s done.” He blew it out and tossed it on the plate he’d been using for cheese. “You’re up.”

Brant didn’t care if he won or not. He never had cared. But early on he’d figured out that winning mattered to most guys, especially when it came to things like championship basketball games. So he’d pretended to be competitive as hell. Besides, Aria was sitting at the table, and while he didn’t personally mind if he lost, winning might be better with her watching.

So he concentrated more than he would have normally and lit match after match. Cade kept pace with him and eventually they each had only one left. Brant held his up. “Let’s go for the big finish. On the count of three, we’ll both light our match...or not.”