Page 50 of Call it Reckless

Her perfectly plucked eyebrows lowered, and I knew I was in for a butt-stomping scolding.

“Yes, you do. For starters, you’re smart as hell. I mean, you have a freakin’ engineering degree. You’re also a kickass mechanic and a smart businesswoman and entrepreneur. And,” she paused to grin, “you have exquisite taste in best friends, who happens to know you’re loyal as hell, hardworking, and the best friend a girl could ever ask for.”

Her eyes held mine until I finally broke into a grin. “Well, there is all that.”

“Then let’s go show the town.”

I fingered the necklace around my neck. I had to admit, the addition was a nice touch. I reached for my black leather jacket. “You’re right. Let’s go.”

It was only eight o’clock when we reached Fergusson’s Bar, but already, it was hopping. I had to drive around the block to find a place to park. Ferg’s, as I’d learned the locals called it, was one of the new arrivals since I’d left. It was owned by Cheyenne Fergusson, one of a set of triplets I remembered from high school.

The music thumped louder as we opened the door. Instantly, I loved the feel of the place. Several long strings of globe lights draped between metal pipes that hung from the wood ceiling. A mirror behind the bar reflected large beer taps and a huge assortment of alcohol bottles. A small dance floor with a raised platform for a band was to my left.

I glanced around, looking for Emalee and Cam, but the only thing my eyes landed on was a familiar broad-shouldered, cropped-hair figure. He was sitting with the same officer who’d come to my house the first night I was in town and a couple of other guys I didn’t recognize. As if he felt my stare, his head swiveled, and his blue eyes caught and held mine.

After a few seconds, he offered me a fast nod and turned back to his buddies.

“Oh, my god! Is that what I think it is?”

I’d barely turned around before Paige grabbed my arm and tugged me toward a corner where a small crowd was gathered around a mechanical bull. We watched as one guy was thrown in a matter of seconds, followed by another who lasted even less time.

“Bri, we have to try that!”

I laughed at her wide-eyed expression. It was like she was exploring a foreign culture, which, I guessed, to her, it was. But I’d seen them around a few other bars. “It’s harder than it looks.”

“No way. They’re already drunk. See, they can’t even walk.” She grabbed my arm. “Let’s try it.”

I shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”

She tossed her blonde hair over her shoulder. “I bet I can kick its ass.”

I covered my grin with my hand. She’d soon learn.

A hoot came from another corner of a room, where a bunch of guys who looked to be around college age sat around a table. One of them grinned, drained half of his beer glass, and walked with a swagger toward the bull arena while his friends followed, clapping and cheering him on. As he passed us, he aimed a double-take at Paige. He grinned at her and flexed his arm.

“If I last eight seconds, you gonna let me buy you a drink?”

Her laughter rang out as she gave him a bold wink. “Sweetheart, if you’re only an eight-second man, you’re not man enough for me.”

His friends hooted and smacked him on the back, teasing him about getting burned. The guy grinned and pretended to bow and yield to her.

We watched as he climbed boldly onto the back of the bucking hunk of leather-covered metal shaped like a bull. He held the strap in one hand, raised the other, and gave a quick nod to the attendant. He had great form for the first three seconds or so, and then a slight spin, and off he flew over the head of the bull, bouncing on the inflatable mattress that surrounded the machine.

“Oh,” the operator said, cringing, “there’s gonna be a price to pay for those five seconds.”

To his credit, the guy got up laughing.

“Come on, Bri, let’s show them how to do it.”

She ditched her heels and made a beeline for the operator, who suddenly looked a lot less bored as she approached. He hurried to help her climb onto the beast and offered a few instructions.

“You going to try it?” Reid’s voice drawled from behind me.

I didn’t bother looking at him. “Of course. It looks like fun. You’re not averse to a little fun, are you, Deputy?”

He brushed my arm as he stood beside me with a chuckle. That merest touch still managed to put my senses on high alert. He smelled good, the kind of scent I wouldn’t mind lingering on my pillows.

Wait. Where the hell did that thought come from?

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