"Not on the Menu...?"

" The Tale of Aunt Faye’s Speacial Pot of Hillbilly Luck, The neon sign at the Honky-Tonk saloon buzzed like an angry hornet, but inside, the mood was thick with tension and the smell of charred brisket. Vicky sat at the head of the table, in her pink cowboy hat tilted low, staring down a massive, steaming iron cauldron in the center of the table.

"You're sure this is it, Vicky?" Did Duke asked: smoke trailing from his cigarette as his hand rested instinctively near his belt.

"I'd recognize that smell anywhere, Duke," Did Vicky Say: her eyes locked on the bubbling mystery. "It’s The Pot of Hillbilly Luck. My Aunt Faye only makes it for the family reunion, and someone just cleared out her cellar to get it."

"Then we take it back," Jim murmured, his long dark hair framing a face carved from stone. He adjusted his homemade beaded Necklace, his eyes scanning the rowdy bar.

Before Pablo could dig his fork into a nearby steak, the saloon doors flew open. A rival gang of outlaw food-truck bandits marched in, looking for the very cauldron sitting on Vicky's table.

"That recipe belongs to the open road now, sweetheart," the lead bandit sneered.

Darrick smirked, tossing his blonde braid over his muscular shoulder. "You want the luck? You gotta go through the muscles."

What followed was total chaos. Jim leaped over the table, using a plate of loaded baked potatoes as a projectile weapon. Calvin grabbed two wooden chairs, shattering them against the bandits with effortless brawler charm. Duke caught a stray fist without dropping his cigarette, delivering a swift roundhouse Kick with his snake skin cowboy boot with the Spur "high ho silver away!" he said with his deep voice as deep as Thors to the leader's chest, while Pablo quietly and efficiently cleared the flank.

Through the flying glasses and shattered tables, Vicky didn't flinch. As a rogue bandit lunged toward her, Duke pulled her back into his sleevless shirt chest, shielding her with pure, protective romance. "Duke said I got you, darlin'," he whispered, his heart hammering against her back.

With the bandits successfully thrown out into the dirt, the saloon fell quiet. The table was a mess of spilled beer and scattered salad, but the cauldron remained untouched.

Vicky smiled, looking at her bruised, breathless, and incredibly handsome crew. She dipped a ladle into the cauldron and took a bite of the legendary, un-replicable combination of smoked meats, wild ramps, and secret spices and other secret resapeas.

"Well?" Jim asked, How does it taste wiping a splash of barbecue sauce from his tattooed neck.

Vicky grinned, her eyes sparkling. "It’s just like the family reunion. Absolutely delicious but not like my Aunty's."

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