Cowboy Firefighter Christmas Kiss

by Kim Redford

  Jennifer smiled at the camera. “And in other news…”

  Storm clicked off the television before she turned around with a frown on her face. “That’s not the best picture of Fernando. He’s way more handsome.”

  “He looked very handsome,” Ivy said. “It’s a photo you gave me for Instagram.”

  “Maybe I could find a better one.”

  “I hope I’m not liable for that six-pickup pileup,” Slade said with a big sigh. “But I’m glad to know Fernando is still safe and sound.”

  “If we catch the rustlers, liability may be their problem.” Ivy did her best to soothe Slade.

  “The pileup is a shame,” Lula Mae said. “But nobody was hurt and truck dings can be fixed. The important thing is Fernando got across that big divided highway in one piece. He is a smart one.”

  “And fast.” Storm smiled at everyone. “But I’m worried about that red rope.”

  “He’ll lose it soon enough,” Slade said. “It’ll either come loose or he’ll scrape it off on a tree branch or remove it some other way.”

  “I hope it’s right away.”

  “Yeah. Me, too.” Slade agreed. “Now I’m thinking we have another problem.”

  “What?” Ivy asked.

  “After that kind of TV publicity, how many people do you think are going to descend on the county for our Christmas events? Can we even handle them?”

  “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Lula Mae said. “For now, it looks like your chili is boiling and that’s our first order of business tonight.”

  “Right.” Slade grabbed a large, long-handled, stainless spoon. “Let’s start messing up the best chili in North Texas.”

  “We’re not going to mess it up unless you’ve already done it,” Ivy said, pointing at her open book. “It says right here that the ladies started making their chili with a gallon can of store-bought chili.”

  “And I told you there’s no way I’ll go near store bought. We use my chili or we don’t do this at all.”

  “Okay.” She tossed a frown at his back. “If that’s the way you want it, I guess that’s what we’ll have to do.”

  “No point in trying to change his mind,” Lula Mae said. “He’s been hardheaded since he was born.”

  “I thought that was me.” Storm pointed at her chest, giggling.

  “You, too.” Lula Mae grinned at her granddaughter. “Runs in the family.”

  “That’s the truth of it,” Slade replied. “Now, can we get on with this mess? I sincerely doubt it’ll be edible by the time we’re through with it. I mean, you ought to listen to a cook, not an author, when you want good chili.”

  “You might as well give it up and get on with it. You’re not the only hard head in the room.” Lula Mae laughed as she walked over and peered into the pot. “It looks about right to add the new ingredients.”

  “Let me help.” Storm ran over to the countertop and started touching one item after another that had been set there.

  “Best not get in between Ivy and her culinary creation,” Slade said, glancing at the row of products.

  “You can help.” Ivy stepped up beside Storm and picked up a can of beer. She pulled the tab and slowly poured it into the chili while he stirred the whole time.

  “Waste of good beer,” Slade said.

  “Let’s just wait and see.” Ivy checked the next ingredient in the book, then set it on the countertop out of the way. She measured and added a half a cup of Worcestershire sauce and four tablespoons of liquid smoke to the chili.

  Slade keep stirring the pot, looking interested but skeptical.

  “Okay.” Ivy picked up the book again and turned to the page marked with a sticky note. “Next comes two cans of chili beans and eight ounces of chopped jalapeño peppers.”

  “I’ve got those ready to go.” Lula Mae picked up the ingredients from the countertop and dumped them into the pot with a chuckle.

  Ivy checked her book again to make sure she put everything into the chili in the right order. She didn’t know if it’d make a difference to go out of order, but she was taking no chances. She spooned six teaspoons each of chili powder and Cajun seasoning into the mix, feeling moist heat on her face from the chili. “Smells good.”

  “So far so good,” Slade said as he returned to stirring the mixture.

  “Okay, I’m putting in the last ingredient.” Ivy closed the book and tucked it under her chin. She pulled open a gallon bag of cooked hamburger meat, leaned over, and dumped it in the pot. But as she did so, the book slipped from under her chin and headed for the pot.

  Slade tried to catch it, but he was too slow.

  The paperback hit the edge of the pot, slid down the side, and landed next to the flames where it promptly caught fire.

  “Oh no!” Ivy cried out, reaching out to save her book.

  Slade pushed her hand aside. “That book’s not worth getting burned over.”

  “But it’s my signed copy of The Red-Hot Chili Cook-Off.”

  “I don’t care if it’s gilded in gold.” He used his spoon to knock the flaming paperback onto the floor.

  “Don’t put out the fire with water. It’ll ruin the pages.” She watched in horror as the pretty, colorful cover turned black while the edges curled up.

  “It’s burning to a crisp. What’s a little water?” Slade said. “Besides, it’s about to burn down the kitchen.”

  “Can’t we save it?”

  “What do you think?” He stomped on the book with his boot, breaking the spine and crushing the pages.

  “That’s one hot chili recipe,” Lula Mae said with a chuckle.

  “Not my fault.” Slade looked at the mess, then glanced at Ivy. “Sorry about your book, but I had to put out the fire.”

  “You didn’t have to stomp it to pieces.” She bent down and reverently picked up the broken remains.

  “I’ll buy you a new one.”

  “Signed copies aren’t easy to come by.”

  “Where does the author live? I’ll go get her to sign a new book.”

  “I’m sure her address isn’t public knowledge, or everybody would be at her door wanting signatures.”

  “Uncle Slade,” Storm hollered. “Chili’s about to boil over.”

  He wheeled around, grabbed a spoon, and started stirring fast as he turned off the flame. “That was close. At this rate, we’re going to trash the whole kitchen.”

  “It’s just one little accident,” Ivy said, gently holding the remains of the book. “Could I get a baggie for it?”

  Slade glanced at her. “Trash is over there.”

  “Never.”

  “Do you want to bury it on the ranch?” Storm asked. “We can all go to the funeral and you can say a few words about what a good book it was.”

  “Thanks,” Ivy said, smiling. “For now, I think I’ll just take it home.”

  “Here’s a baggie.” Lula Mae handed her a small zippered, transparent bag.

  “I guess that size is all I need since there’s not too much left of my book.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  “I’m not attending any funeral for a book.” Slade stirred the chili harder. “It’s bad enough I had to make the chili.”

  Ivy held the bag protectively to her chest as she walked over and looked into the big pot. “Wasn’t there another ingredient?”

  “Uh…uh, maybe,” Storm mumbled as she backed away.

  Ivy looked over and saw chocolate staining her mouth. “The chocolate bar! You’re eating the secret ingredient.”

  “I got hungry,” Storm said as she pushed what was left of the bar with a fingertip toward Ivy. “And it’s a big bar—supersize. I only ate a little bit.”

  “I’ll stuff your Christmas stocking with candy bars,” Slade said, chuckling. “I doubt we need
any chocolate in the chili.”

  “I told you, it said right in the book that chocolate is the secret ingredient. We’ve got to have it. Hopefully, this will be enough. If not, Slade, you’ll have to raid Christmas stockings or presents.”

  “I think it’ll do.” He stepped back and motioned to the pot. “Go ahead and add the secret ingredient that isn’t so secret anymore.”

  “All our lips are sealed,” she said.

  “How can it be secret if it was printed in thousands of books?” Storm asked, appearing puzzled.

  Ivy paused in the process of ripping off the candy wrapper. “Good point. It’s a secret in the book, but not here.” She walked up to the pot, looked down at the red mixture, and sniffed the pungent scent. “Smells good.” She quickly broke off sections of chocolate, tossed them into the pot, and stirred the chili, watching dark swirls disappear as the chocolate blended into the red.

  “Who’s going to try it first?” Lula Mae asked. “Any volunteers?”

  “Not me,” Storm said. “I’m full of chocolate.”

  “It’s Ivy’s masterpiece.” Slade glanced down at the chili, shaking his head. “She ought to do the honors.”

  “I’ll be happy to be first,” Ivy said. “After all, a book gave its life for this chili, so somebody ought to be appreciative.”

  “Do you want a bowl?” Lula Mae asked.

  “She won’t need a bowl,” Slade said. “Get her a spoon. One bite will do it.”

  Storm opened a drawer, pulled out a teaspoon, and handed it to her. “Good luck.”

  “Thanks.” Ivy set her book down well away from the stove, then walked over. Had she been foolish to insist on following a recipe out of a novel? No. She trusted the author. She dipped her spoon into the chili, filled it, raised it to her mouth, and hesitated, feeling eyes on her. She glanced over. Slade, Lula Mae, and Storm leaned forward, earnest expressions on their faces.

  “You don’t have to do it.” Slade held up a hand as if to stop her. “We can throw out the whole mess.”

  “It’s not that the added ingredients are bad,” Lula Mae said. “It’s just an odd combination.”

  “We know the chocolate’s good.” Storm gave an encouraging thumbs-up.

  Ivy blew on the chili, started to just touch it with the tip of her tongue, then decided to go all the way. She plunged the spoon into her mouth and pulled it out completely clean. Taste hit her—hot, smoky, spicy with a back burn as it slid down her throat. She started to smile, then it turned into a full-out grin.

  “What?” Slade asked. “Is it good or are you teasing us?”

  Lula Mae set out a tray and put four bowls, three spoons, four napkins, and four bottles of water on it. “Let’s retire to the dining room. From the look on Ivy’s face, we may very well have a winner. I’ll be the first to admit I’m wrong if that’s the way it turns out.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Slade said. “If that author is a better cook than me, I’ll—”

  “Eat your hat, Uncle Slade?” Storm giggled as she sniffed the big pot of chili. “I hope it’s good, so we didn’t waste the chocolate.”

  He quietly filled the bowls, then carried the tray into the dining room with everyone following him.

  When they were seated around the table, Ivy dipped her spoon into her big bowl of chili, hesitating as she waited for their verdict. She watched as first Lula Mae took a bite. Slade followed her. Storm came last.

  “It’s great!” Storm dug into the chili in her bowl.

  Lula Mae nodded in agreement. “You’ve got a winner.”

  “I agree,” Slade said, grinning.

  “Do you admit now that authors make good cooks?” Ivy smiled at him, enjoying her victory and teasing him.

  “I wouldn’t go quite that far, but this is a good chili recipe.”

  “It’s so different than our recipe,” Lula Mae said thoughtfully. “But that’s the great thing about chili. There are about as many favorite recipes as there are people in the state of Texas.”

  “True,” Slade said, agreeing.

  “Does this mean y’all don’t have any objections to making and serving this chili at Wildcat Hall?” Ivy looked around the group again.

  “Not a one,” Lula Mae said. “In fact, it’s smart if we have one chili here at the Chuckwagon and you serve another at the Hall.”

  “As much as I hate to admit I was wrong, I was, so I’m on board, too.” Slade tapped the edge of his bowl with his spoon. “I like cooking new recipes. It’s fun, like tonight. I just may start coming up with new chili recipes for the Chuckwagon.”

  “Count me in,” Lula Mae said. “New projects keep us young.”

  Storm frowned around the group. “Stay young all you want, but I’m telling you it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”

  As everyone laughed, Ivy glanced around the group, feeling her heart grow warm as she sat in the midst of this family. They were special, like the chili recipe…with just the right amount of unique ingredients.

  “Enjoy it while you can.” Lula Mae reached over and squeezed her granddaughter’s hand. “Growing up isn’t all it’s cracked up to be either, but it does have its compensations.”

  Ivy met Slade’s gaze, and they silently communicated just how strong and wonderful that compensation could be in a couple’s life.

  Storm set down her spoon. “I’ve decided it’s the secret ingredient that makes this chili special. And it’s a good thing I ate those pieces of chocolate, or it would have thrown off the whole recipe.”

  “In that case,” Ivy said, chuckling, “we’ll need you to eat a few pieces of chocolate from every bar before we add it to the chili.”

  “Just what I had in mind.” And Storm gave a big grin.

  Chapter 31

  Slade sat on a stool at the end of the bar in Wildcat Hall. Christmas was only four days away. He was trying to think if he’d forgotten anything vital. Of course, Fernando wasn’t back, so that was a worry, but if he was still on foot, he couldn’t have made it yet—not at five miles a day. Slade was surprised the bull hadn’t been caught by all the cowboys and cowgirls looking for him, but perhaps they’d tried and hadn’t known how to handle him. Maybe that was his good bloodline, because he had to be super smart to get away from the kidnappers in the first place. In any case, Slade kept his phone with him at all times just in case somebody called him about Fernando.

  He just hoped against hope Fernando somehow made it safely back by Christmas, or a little girl named Storm was going to be devastated in a way that no amount of gifts could fix. For that matter, thousands of folks rooting for Fernando, checking Ivy’s map of sightings every day and leaving lots of hearts on Instagram as the big bull made his way across North Texas, would be deeply disappointed, too. They all needed—and wanted—a Christmas miracle.

  He’d spoken with Mr. Reynolds and learned he was a straight-talking, no-nonsense rancher. Slade had turned down the generous offer of one of the calves come fall as a stud fee. He’d simply explained that it was Christmas come early and to enjoy the new cattle bloodline. They’d parted ways friends and vowed to keep in touch. Fernando was proving that he had a way of bringing folks together during this special time of year.

  Ivy’s book chili had been an instant success. Now it was a popular staple, along with the Settelmeyer corn fritters and Christmas cookies. They were great cooks, and Slade was glad they were picking up the slack, because he could only be in one place at a time. Everything was coming together just fine—so well, in fact, that it worried him. They hadn’t even been plagued by cattle rustlers, so maybe the extra security made the difference. Still, he figured at some point, something had to break. He only hoped he was there when it happened so he could pick up the pieces.

  He didn’t want to go there tonight. All the long months of planning were coming together, and starting tomorrow he’d b
e up way before dawn to begin the cattle drive. They’d received permission, since mostly just dirt roads or ranch roads were allowed for cattle anymore, to drive three hundred head of cows, no calves or bulls, up Wildcat Road the five miles from Steele Trap to Steele Trap II. It’d take all day, but they could do it.

  He needed to be at his best for the cattle drive. Everybody did. A lot was at stake and a lot was invested in it. People were coming from all over to watch and participate. Fernando had fired their imaginations, and they wanted to be part of the trail drive, along with the other Wildcat Bluff County Christmas events. If everything went well, they would all come out winners. Anything else was unacceptable. But for now, he just wanted to be with Ivy until he walked her home.

  He watched her work the bar with Alicia, looking like she’d always been there. She’d adapted so quickly that he was still a little surprised that she’d picked up the business and endeared herself to so many people so fast. Yet that was the way of his Ivy—his was the important word. And he belonged to her. He’d known it the first time he saw her and the feeling had only increased every day since that first moment.

  He wanted to pop the question—the big one—to her. But was it too soon? Was she ready? Would it scare her clear back to Houston? He’d get no complaints from his family, because they adored her, along with their friends and the community at large. What he really wanted so badly that he ached from it was to build a life with her that stretched into an endless future filled with love, laughter, and bassinets.

  Should he get a ring? He didn’t know what to get, because she didn’t wear much jewelry. He’d hate to get the wrong style. He could ask Sydney, since she was sporting a pretty, sparkly ring on her left hand—or maybe he should ask Dune, since he’d gotten it for Slade’s sister. Still, he wanted this to be personal, something they did together. Maybe he ought to just get her a Christmas present, but again, he hadn’t a clue what to get her. If she was a cowgirl, he’d know what to buy. Maybe he should consult with Morning Glory, since she was the de facto good-taste guru in Wildcat Bluff. Plus, she got people, so she understood their wants and needs in a way he’d never be able to do, not in the way he could handle horses and cattle or a good recipe. He guessed everybody had their special gifts, including Ivy, with her ability to create websites and draw people to her.