Vicki Thompson – Cowboy All Night (страница 7)

She studied the pieces of chicken as they gradually turned a golden brown. “I’m ready to pour the brandy. Do you have the match?”

“Right here.” He held up the long match he’d found in a can by the fireplace. “And some extras, although I won’t need them.”

“And something to strike it on?”

“I’ll use my thumbnail.” When she frowned at him he felt the need to defend the practice. “It’s something my brothers and I taught ourselves when we lived here. I’m good at it. We all are.”

“And let me add that I disapproved back then and I still do,” Rosie said. “But they’re convinced it makes them manly.”

“Which it absolutely does,” Brant said. “Whenever I strike a match with my thumbnail, I grow extra chest hair.” He glanced over his shoulder at Cade. “Right, bro?”

“Yep, and my pecs get bigger, not to mention my—”

“That’s enough,” Rosie said. “We don’t need to hear about that.”

“I do,” Lexi said. “I had no idea. Cade, strike those matches any time you get the urge. I’ll buy you a few extra boxes.”

Brant laughed. “Let’s just say that a cowboy who can strike a match with his thumbnail gets respect. Ask anyone.” He paused. “Except Mom. She doesn’t get it.”

“Neither do I,” Aria said. “But strike that match however you care to.” She doused the chicken with brandy. “Just do it now.”

Naturally the first match wouldn’t cooperate. The second one wasn’t any better. “Guess I’m out of practice. Hang on a sec—”

“Here you go.” Herb appeared at his side with a butane lighter.

“Uh, no.” Aria looked panicked. “Just a match, please.”

“Then light the match with the butane,” Herb said.

Brant hesitated. “Let me have one more try.” From the corner of his eye he saw Cade smirking. There would be payback for this.

“Do it this way, son. The brandy’s waiting.”

“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.