Page 24 of The Cowboy and the Stray

"Shit, shit, shit," I muttered, fumbling for the tongs, the spatula, anything to save my ill-fated breakfast. So much for eggs and dignity.

A second later, the fire alarm went off.

The shriek was ear-piercing. I swatted at the air, trying to wave the smoke away. I could barely see through the thick haze, the bitter tang stinging my eyes. The bacon was charred beyond hope, the eggs stuck and blackened, and the biscuits, black briquettes, smelling faintly of ash. A disaster of epic proportions. Gordon Ramsay would’ve just left. If I had anywhere to go, I would've too.

Footsteps thundered from the direction of the back porch and from upstairs at the same time. Panic, urgency, all aimed straight at me. I was still batting at the smoke when Reid crashed through the door, shirtless and wild-eyed, carrying a flannel shirt. His relief at the lack of a real emergency was short-lived.

"Is that breakfast?" he asked, staring at the smoking ruin of my efforts.

I could only gape at him.

The door banged again, this time admitting Gray. He tripped over a chair, landing in a heap before scrambling back to his feet. He looked around, assessing the situation with quick, thoughtful eyes. "Thought it was a fire," he said, running a hand through his hair. "Guess I was half-right."

Eli was next, running downstairs with his shirt half-buttoned. He wielded a fire extinguisher like a gunslinger, eyes alight with excitement.

"Stand back!" he declared, brandishing the extinguisher with a wicked grin. "I got this!"

He squeezed the trigger, sending a foamy white stream straight at the stove, the counters, and the floor.

And there, through the smoke and chaos, was Calder. Arms crossed, one eyebrow raised, and a suspicious glint of amusement in his dark brown gaze. Please let the floor open up and swallow me now. Now he'd throw me out for sure.

Midge shoved past them all, grabbing the towel from my hands, moving with calm efficiency. She fanned the back door, the cross breeze sweeping the smoke out in a sooty rush. The alarm stopped its screaming, leaving a ringing in my ears.

"What happened?" Calder asked, sounding more curious than concerned.

"I tried to cook," I said, despairing at the charred remains of my good intentions covered in foam. "It got a little out of hand." Understatement of the year.

The others stared at me, at the disaster I'd made. I wanted to melt into the floor, to evaporate like the smoke that had filled the room.

Tears threatened. A prickly heat crawled up my neck. Why did I think I could pull this off? Why did I think anything would change? I would always be this, wouldn't I? The girl who burned everything she touched. Including breakfast.

Midge patted my shoulder, her hand warm and steady. "Ain't nothing we can't salvage. Buck up now." Bless her for not just hitting me with the towel.

It was just barely enough to keep the tears at bay.

"Thought we were under attack," Eli said, deflating now that the excitement was over. "Man, that was loud."

Gray nodded. "And dangerous."

"Sorry to disappoint," I said, my laugh shaky and raw.

Reid tugged on his shirt, a smile quirking at the corners of his mouth. "What're you talking about? That was the most excitement we've had in weeks."

Midge gave the mess a once-over, arms crossed and expression skeptical. "All right, troops," she ordered. "Let's see what we can do with this."

Towels, rags, and spatulas were distributed. Eli dumped the extinguisher in favor of a washcloth. Reid commandeered a spatula and scraped burned bits into the trash.

Calder handed me a damp cloth, his eyes holding a warmth that almost undid me.

I ducked my head and scrubbed the counter. "I was trying to help," I admitted, keeping my voice low so the others wouldn't catch. "Looks like I'm better at disasters."

"Looks like you're one of us, then," he said, clapping me on the back before getting back to work. Somehow, that made it okay.

The air cleared. The floor got less sticky. My mortification eased a fraction. When things were finally looking almost normal, Buck strode into the kitchen, eyes full of mischief. He sniffed the air, hitching up his belt. "Smells like the war," he announced, grabbing a seat and loading his plate without missing a beat. Didn't seem to matter that the food was covered in foam and inedible.

I almost laughed. Almost cried. Maybe both.

"Oh shut up, Buck," Midge snapped, but there was no heat in it. No heat in anything but the burned food and the scorching in my chest.