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by Jenn Alexander

  It was one uneven sear, she told herself. She had to let it go and move on.

  Except that it wasn’t one uneven sear.

  “Rowan, this tenderloin is overcooked and dry. Start it again.”

  Daniel’s voice had an even harder edge this time.

  “Yes, chef,” she managed to say around the shame that sat thick and painful in the back of her throat. She set another pork tenderloin on the grill, watching it studiously, determined not to overcook it.

  Except that her over-attention to the pork tenderloin resulted in her sending out an undercooked sirloin.

  And as she tried not to undercook it again when she redid the order, she wound up overcooking the damn thing.

  She knew how to cook meat. She hadn’t landed such a prestigious position by accident. But based on the evening’s performance, nobody would ever have guessed that. Rowan lived and breathed food. Cooking was the one thing she was truly passionate about in her life. It was more than a career path for her; it was a life path.

  And yet the further she got into the weeds, the harder it was to get back out.

  Order after order came back to her: mistake after mistake.

  Daniel’s anger grew.

  She barely made it through the evening, and when the night was over, she felt the weight of the shame settle heavy onto her chest.

  “What the hell was that tonight?” he asked, cornering her as she wiped down her station.

  She could only manage to shrug and shake her head. There were no words. The embarrassment strangled her, making it impossible to think, to speak, to breathe.

  “I know you’re better than that,” Daniel said, his words low and cold. “I’ve seen you cook better than that. Which is the only reason I’m not firing you right now. You had more food come back than go out tonight. I don’t know what the hell is going on with you, but you need to get it together. We’re done for the week. You’ve got a couple of days to regroup. Come back and get it right. Don’t fuck it up again.”

  “Yes, chef,” she managed.

  Daniel exhaled in frustration, then left her to clean her station.

  She scrubbed down the grill, but she couldn’t scrub away the harsh sting of failure.

  She wouldn’t get another chance. She had to be perfect next time.

  There was no room for error.

  ❊ ❊ ❊

  Kate sat in the tub, surrounded by bubbles with a glass of wine beside her, and tried to relax. She had drawn the bath about ten minutes earlier, but the stress of the day had yet to wash off of her. She took another drink of wine, and waited for some semblance of relaxation to sink in.

  The ranch had lost one of their bigger buyers. It wasn’t anything she had done, and she couldn’t have done anything differently, but that didn’t mean she didn’t feel the weight of failure land square on her shoulders. They’d made a good bit of money at a nearby community market over the weekend, and so at least they had that, but it wasn’t enough to carry the loss of this client, not with the added expenses they had this year.

  Kate wished she was more business-minded. She had grown up on the ranch and knew how the day-to-day operations were run. She could easily transition into those without any break in operations, but she had never been responsible for the business part, and her dad was checked out, uninterested in helping.

  She frowned, feeling her stress spike again at the thought of her dad.

  Tomorrow was the Fourth of July, and Kate was leaving him home by himself. Not that he wanted to do anything for the Fourth of July. She’d asked him, and he said he wanted to spend the night in, yet she felt guilty leaving him alone on the holiday. And at the same time, she didn’t feel that guilty, given how snappy he had been with her recently. She couldn’t do anything right.

  Sell the ranch, he kept pushing.

  Except she knew he didn’t want that.

  She didn’t want that.

  Selling the ranch was simply not an option.

  She shook her head as though she could shake out the thoughts. She was tired of all the stress, of constantly feeling like she was on the brink of losing everything.

  Her phone buzzed from beside the tub, and she reached for it, welcoming the distraction. She felt her mood shift the instant she read Rowan’s name on the screen.

  So we’re doing the tubing tomorrow, right? Rowan asked.

  Kate smiled at her phone like a teenager. We’d better be. It’s the best part of the festival.

  So I should bring a bathing suit then?

  She swallowed. She maybe hadn’t thought this through, because her stomach tightened at just the thought of Rowan in a bathing suit.

  Yeah. And a towel, she answered, as though her mind was not screaming warning bells.

  She squeezed her eyes shut. She needed her life to stop feeling like a high-wire act. One misstep . . .

  I’m looking forward to seeing you tomorrow, Rowan wrote.

  Kate read the message and relaxed into the warm bathwater.

  She was looking forward to that as well, dangerous or not.

  Chapter Eleven

  Rowan hadn’t been so nervous for a date in as long as she could remember. Maybe when she was in high school, but she doubted even then. She had dated plenty, but she couldn’t remember another time when she’d really cared about the outcome. She’d always kept things fun— low risk, low stakes. With Kate, though . . . Kate was special. She wanted it to work with Kate. And that terrified her.

  Rowan carefully styled her hair and changed her outfit no less than five times before finally settling on a pair of cut-off jeans and a black-band tank top.

  Then she waited for Kate, who had offered to drive, to swing by and pick her up.

  At the gentle knock on her door, she stood, quickly straightening her clothes and hair before going to open the door. She grabbed her keys and her bag with her towel and slipped out quickly, not wanting Kate to see that she had done some sorting, but the bulk of her belongings remained scattered in half-unpacked boxes.

  She pulled the door closed quickly and smiled up at Kate, who stood there looking impossibly pretty, dressed in a soft, sleeveless yellow sundress that fell just above her knees, exposing her long legs. She still wore her cowboy boots, which came up to her mid-calf, and Rowan decided the boots were maybe the sexiest thing she had ever seen.

  “Wow.” Rowan’s gaze traced over every curve. “You look amazing.”

  Kate’s cheeks turned a soft rose shade.

  “Thank you,” she said. “So do you.”

  Rowan smiled at the sincerity in Kate’s voice. They headed down the stairs, and Kate opened the passenger door of her truck for Rowan who climbed in, excited for the day ahead.

  “Are you prepared to eat a lot of fried food?” Kate asked.

  “Oh, I’m ready.” She had heard rumors of Texas’s deep-fried creations, and she was eager to try out the most inventive and purely indulgent deep-fried goody she could find.

  Kate laughed. “You say that now.”

  Kate pulled into the crowded parking lot and was lucky enough to find a lone parking spot near the back. Rowan looked out at the crowd of people all making their way to the main pavilion and saw the white tops of the food vendor tents.

  “Wow,” she said.

  “Fourth of July is kind of a big deal here,” Kate answered.

  “I see that.”

  She followed Kate into the crowd. The day was sticky with a heat that clung to her skin. The sun sat high and fat in the sky, shining down on the festival. There were children with elaborate face paint in strollers and seated on parents’ shoulders, holding tight to balloons and stuffed animals. The smell of fried food, sugar, and grilled meats carried through the area, and she heard the bass thump of the live band playing in the distance. It was almost overwhelming, the cacophony that assaulted her senses.

  “So, where do we go for this river tubing?” she asked, still trying to get her bearing.

  Kate laughed and took her hand, leadi
ng her through the crowd toward the river, where she saw a couple of booths with bright green rubber inner tubes stacked to the side.

  “We sign a waiver, rent the tube, and then get on the river,” Kate explained. “A little ways down, we’ll get off and a shuttle will pick up the tubes and bring us back here.”

  Rowan nodded, taking it all in.

  “Surely you must have tubing in Oregon,” Kate said.

  “Our rivers move,” Rowan answered.

  Kate’s laughter was warm and bright, and it melted Rowan, even more than the hot sun.

  After she and Kate signed their waivers and paid their fee, they carried their inner tubes down to the river.

  Kate pulled the sundress off over her head and kicked off her boots so that she was standing in her bikini, ready for the river. Rowan was completely unprepared for the visual, and she swallowed hard while taking in Kate’s soft curves, the smooth expanse of her tight stomach, the swell of her breasts, only barely covered by the soft green fabric . . .

  “God,” Rowan said under her breath, trying to pull her thoughts out of the gutter.

  Kate arched an eyebrow at her with a knowing smile on her face, which made Rowan’s face burn red.

  “So not fair,” Rowan said. “I can’t be expected to think when you’re standing there in . . . that.”

  Kate stepped closer and teased the bottom of Rowan’s tank top, her fingers just barely brushing across her stomach, making it clench tightly.

  “You might not want to tube in this,” Kate said.

  Rowan nodded, but seeing Kate standing in front of her, toned and soft and perfect, she felt suddenly self-conscious.

  “Turn around,” she said.

  Kate met her gaze, her eyes soft with concern and confusion.

  Rowan gave a small, self-deprecating smile and a shrug.

  Kate arched an eyebrow but said nothing, turning around to let Rowan change.

  She pulled off her shirt and shorts, then wrapped her arms around herself to cover her too-round stomach. She had bikini shorts on, covering her thighs, but she wished she’d thought to bring an extra tank top to cover her stomach. She wasn’t typically self-conscious about her body anymore, but Kate stood there looking impossibly perfect, and Rowan couldn’t help but wonder if she could measure up.

  “Ready?” Rowan asked, starting toward the water before Kate could say anything.

  “Hey,” Kate said.

  Rowan stopped and reluctantly turned.

  Kate’s gaze was gentle as it traced across her body, sending goosebumps across her skin.

  “You are so incredibly beautiful.” Kate stepped over to her and gently unwrapped her arms. Kate’s thumb brushed over Rowan’s stomach, and she closed her eyes against the soft touch.

  Rowan didn’t feel beautiful, but Kate sounded sincere, and some of her self-consciousness eased.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, automatically. “I’m just a little self-conscious about my body.”

  “You don’t need to be,” Kate promised. “You have a great body.”

  Rowan smiled at Kate’s words.

  “In fact,” Kate continued, leaning in and speaking into her ear, “I have all sorts of things that I’d like to do to your body.”

  Rowan’s breath caught. She didn’t get to ask a follow-up question because Kate moved away, picked up her inner tube, and headed for the water, leaving her standing there trying to collect herself.

  “You’re evil, Kate Landreth,” she said, racing to catch up and get her tube in the water.

  Kate just grinned, sat down in her tube, and kicked herself away from the river’s edge.

  Rowan shook her head, but laughed and got into her own tube.

  The water was wonderfully cool against the heat of the day. Rowan sat with her feet and hands dangling in the water, and floated down the river alongside Kate.

  And just like that, she got it. River tubing made sense, and she realized she’d been missing out. The sun was hot as it beat down on them, but no longer unbearably so, with their feet dangling in the cool river. Kate held tight to Rowan’s tube so that they didn’t drift apart. They got to relax as they drifted slowly downstream, listening to the music and laughter from the festival.

  “Maybe I misjudged Texas,” Rowan said as they floated lazily.

  Kate looked over, green eyes shining as her mouth curved up into a smile. “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah. I expected flat, hot, and boring. Turns out it’s only two of those things.”

  Kate laughed and splashed her. She yelped as the water hit her stomach.

  “I’m glad we’re not boring you to death here,” Kate said.

  Rowan took in Kate’s impossibly long legs and her slightly tanned skin dusted with a few freckles.

  “I’m definitely not bored,” she said, her voice low.

  Kate held her gaze, and the heat between them burned hotter than the Texas sun.

  “Tubing the Comal, south of Austin, is even better,” Kate said after a long moment. “I think you’d like it.”

  “Take me there one day?”

  Kate nodded.

  “I should make a Texas bucket list,” Rowan said. “A grand list of all of the places to see and things to do. Then we can do them together.”

  “It’s going to be a long list,” Kate answered. “It’s a big state. There’s a lot you need to see. It might take a while.”

  Rowan nodded as if she was thinking it over. “I might be okay with that.”

  ❊ ❊ ❊

  Rowan and Kate walked hand in hand through the crowds of people as the sun began to set, taking in the music and looking at the various Texas trinkets sold by the craft vendors— candles, knitted clothes, little garden creatures, kitchen plaques.

  Rowan traced her fingers over a wooden cutting board in the shape of Texas. “What is it with Texans and loving the shape of their state so much?”

  Kate just shrugged. “We’re proud of our state.”

  Rowan bit her tongue from making a sarcastic remark about that overinflated Texas pride she saw everywhere. “I guess I can understand that, but I don’t have Oregon-shaped items lying around my place, and I love Oregon.”

  “You’re missing out.” Kate nudged Rowan with her elbow. “A missed opportunity to represent.”

  Rowan rolled her eyes, but she pulled out her wallet. “I’ll buy it.”

  Kate laughed. “Really? You want a Texas-shaped cutting board?”

  “As a chef I can never have too many cutting boards.” And she hoped that maybe some of that Texas pride would begin to wear off on her.

  “You’d better be careful,” Kate said. “You’re going to be a full-blown Texan before you know it.”

  “I don’t know that I’d go that far.” Rowan held up a hand to stop Kate. She finished paying, collected the bag with her new cutting board, and took Kate’s hand again. “I’ll take the cowboy hat and the cutting board, but I’m not going to deck out my apartment with a million of those metal stars, and I’ll be damned if I ever hang a wall plaque with a picture of a gun on it.”

  Kate cringed, and Rowan immediately knew why.

  “Oh my God, don’t tell me you have one of those!” Rowan cried in shock and surprise.

  “To be fair,” Kate began, “that wasn’t my choice; it was Daddy’s. But guns are a big deal on the ranch. You’ve got to know how to shoot to protect the cattle, calves especially, from animals like coyotes. I grew up around guns. They’ve always been a part of my life.”

  She fell silent, thinking about Kate— sweet, gentle Kate— holding a gun. The image didn’t compute, and it didn’t sit well with her.

  “I’d never own a weapon that is intended for anything other than hunting,” Kate said. “And I don’t love that everyone and his dog can buy a gun. But as ranchers there are times we need them.”

  Rowan felt the differences between herself and Kate as if they were a physical distance between them. She cared about Kate, she was attracted to Kate, and yet she di
dn’t understand Kate’s world at all. Oregon felt like another world. She hadn’t expected everything and everyone to be so different.

  Kate closed the distance by slipping her hand into Rowan’s. “I like that we’re so different,” she said, as though reading Rowan’s mind.

  “Yeah?”

  Kate nodded. “You see the world in a way that is so new to me. Everything I grew up with— all the mundane, boring day-to-day stuff— it’s all new when I get to see it with you. Showing you Texas feels special.”

  Rowan couldn’t find words around the sudden emotion that caught in her throat; instead, she leaned in and kissed Kate’s cheek.

  “What was that for?” Kate asked.

  She just shrugged and kept walking.

  When they came to the fried food vendor, she stopped in her tracks, staring at the long menu with a mix of awe and horror. Kate hadn’t been lying when she said that Texas offered deep-fried everything. The sign boasted deep-fried pickles, deep-fried cheesecake, deep-fried ice cream, deep-fried Oreos, deep-fried Oreos stuffed inside of a chocolate chip cookie . . . If you could dream it, it was on the list. Even if you couldn’t dream it, it was on the list.

  “How does one deep fry Kool-Aid?” Rowan asked, staring at the menu board and shaking her head slowly back and forth.

  “Easy,” Kate said, as though deep-frying Kool-Aid was the most natural thing in the world. “They freeze the Kool-Aid into cubes, batter it, fry it, and toss it in some sugar.”

  “But . . .” Rowan started, losing the words before they could come out of her mouth. “As a chef, I can’t tell if I’m appalled or intrigued.”

  “Well, you’ll have to try it then.”

  “Oh absolutely. Trying deep-fried everything is at the top of this Texas bucket list of mine.”

  Kate laughed. “That’s the spirit!”

  Rowan looked around at the crowd, scoping out the tables and the lineup. “Why don’t you grab us a table, and I’ll go order a couple of deep-fried creations?”

  “On it,” Kate said, and she headed off into the crowd to find an open space at the picnic tables.