Playing With Fire (Tangled in Texas #2) - Alison Bliss Page 0,20

from the Moose Lodge were dressed as meat market butchers and called themselves the “Blazin’ Butts.”

I couldn’t help but laugh.

Since it was Friday night, the early start gave each group a chance to perfect their homemade dish before judgment day because each team’s chili would be judged by a panel of pre-selected officials in a blind taste test on Saturday afternoon. I had to work the next day, so I wouldn’t be able to attend, but it didn’t matter. Throughout the entire weekend, they sold samples to the masses to earn money for their local club’s individual fundraisers. Which meant we could be unofficial taste-testers while donating money to great local causes.

We started at the first chili vendor and worked our way down the line, purchasing small sample cups from each and comparing one’s flavor, texture, and heat level to the next. The degrees in temperature ranged from sweet to spicy to holy-crap-I-think-they-slipped-me-a-habanero, and they all tasted amazingly different. Who knew there were so many different ways to make chili?

As we reached the last vendor, I froze in my tracks. Apparently, the firefighters had a booth and their long line brimmed with an overabundance of female customers. The firemen’s team name was “Too Hot To Handle” and they were serving chili in their bunker gear. While they wore pants, suspenders, boots, and even their helmets, the brawny men all seemed to be conveniently missing their shirts. And the ladies didn’t seem to mind.

That’s when I recognized a familiar face behind the counter.

Mandy stood on the far side of the booth, beneath the tent, wearing the same shirtless outfit as the men, although a bikini top had been added to her ensemble. Not that the two little black triangles covered much more than her suspenders did.

She stood in front of a folding table lined with several stainless steel chafing dishes and used a ladle to transfer chili into small Styrofoam cups on a tray. She glanced up and smiled, then motioned for us to come around and join her inside the tent.

Bobbie Jo led the way through the hoards of half-naked firemen, while I followed closely behind her, carefully dodging muscular chests and bulging biceps. “Hey, Mandy,” Bobbie Jo said as we approached. “Where’s Cowboy? I figured he’d be here with you guys.”

“He was here earlier, but he left. Said something about having a few women to entertain,” Mandy responded with a wide grin. “By now, I’m pretty sure he’s a little…preoccupied, if you know what I mean.” She shrugged her brows a few times and then gave us a sly wink.

I mentally rolled my eyes.

A few women? My God! How many women does one man need? Then I remembered it was Cowboy we were talking about. Sadly enough, I really wasn’t all that shocked.

Folding my arms, I huffed out an irritated breath.

“Oh, sorry,” Mandy said, cringing as she stared back at me. “Anna, right? So you and Cowboy, huh?”

I choked on my saliva. “Um…w-what?”

Bobbie Jo laughed at my reaction, but Mandy seemed almost surprised by it. “Oh. When I saw you two at the library, you looked rather cozy, and then he mentioned he’d taken you home, so I assumed…”

All the blood in my body rushed to my cheeks. “Oh, God no.” I shook my head, denying the ridiculous charge. “We’re just…friends.”

Mandy didn’t look convinced. In fact, she smiled, as if she were under the distinct impression Cowboy couldn’t possibly be “just friends” with anyone of the female persuasion.

“Heads up,” a man called out. “Hot stuff coming through…and I’m not referring to the chili, ladies.”

I turned to see a beefy fireman carrying a steaming pot toward me. Realizing I stood directly in his path, I muttered a quiet apology and scooted closer to Mandy’s table to let him pass.

He veered around us and stopped at the end of the table, poured the bubbling chili into a metal pan, then covered it with a lid. The moment he glanced up, his eyes suddenly widened. “Oh, shit!”

Everyone around us stopped in their tracks and looked in our direction. Correction: my direction. Their mouths gaped open and their eyes bugged out. I blinked back at them, oblivious as to what caused their reactions, until one of the men pointed just to the right of me and shouted, “Fire!”

I wheeled around and gasped at the sight before me.

A pile of scorched napkins lay scattered across the tabletop while orange flames danced across them like a wanton stripper. Unable to move, I stood there, staring