Page 67 of Breaking Emily's Rules
Stone gave him a dirty look and Jimmy lifted a shoulder.
“Three years, and she’s finally back up and running. Good ol’ Bertha.”
“Bertha?” Stone asked.
“The mechanical bull in the corner.” I had been on Bertha once. I’d made it four seconds before being thrown off. The record was ninety, held by none other than Jimmy. Bertha was fierce. Bertha was ruthless.
And Bertha would be mine tonight.
I climbed off the stool and rubbed my hands together. “I think I’m up for another chance at her.”
“Tonight?” Jimmy asked. “But you’re not exactly dressed—and the last time you tried—”
I waved him off and kept walking toward the back of the bar. “I can’t let a little thing like what I’m wearing stop me. I’ve let too many things stop me in the past. Oh, it’s too fast. Oh, I might fall. Oh, what if I break a nail?”
“What if you break your arm?” Stone was at my elbow.
I stopped in my tracks and turned to him, pointing to his chest. “This is one of the many things you don’t know about me. I have strong bones. I drink lots of milk. And I won’t break an arm.”
“You’ve had two tequila shots tonight, so this isn’t a good idea. You have trouble with your balance on a good day.”
Maybe, just maybe I could win Bertha over tonight. I could feel it in my bones. Tonight was my night. Because things couldn’t possibly get any worse. It was all uphill from here, and Bertha would see me through. We’d do this together. Two women who’d been through the ringer. Broken, even, but put back together again better than ever.
The only thing I had to do was figure out how to, uh, straddle the beast and keep my dignity. This would be tricky but, with a little luck, I could manage. Maybe make it to twenty seconds this time.
Because tonight, anything was possible.
CHAPTER16
Stone
Stone was relievedto find mats all around this beast everyone called Bertha. No stranger to mechanical bulls, he’d ridden one in Texas five years ago for sixty seconds and beat the evening’s high score. But he hadn’t been drinking.
He wasn’t even sure why he was here, except he’d felt out of sorts all day, gone back to his father’s house and packed up more stuff. He’d finally become sick of staring at the same four walls, Winston following him from room to room with moony eyes. Yeah, Stone got it. Winston missed Dad and Stone was a piss-poor substitute.
At eight, he made the decision to wander into the bar on the chance he might find her here because, let’s face it, with her there was never a dull moment. This example being much of what he’d come to expect from her. Times ten.
Her hair was limp and straight tonight, and she wore a skin tight black dress riding up her thighs. That dress made him sweat. The dress got an A plus, if he were grading. Which he wasn’t. Instead, somehow, he found himself in the rather ridiculous position of trying to talk Emily out of riding a bull named Bertha.
Who the hell named a bull Bertha?
Emily now waited in line for her turn with the bull, which he would refuse to call Bertha. Rider after rider, all men, were thrown off within a few seconds. Stone stayed right behind her. If he couldn’t stop her, at least he’d be nearby for damage control. He only wished he had a first aid kit with him. Something told him this wouldn’t be pretty.
“You sure about this?”
“Oh, yeah, Airman.” She saluted, he was sure, simply because she knew how much it annoyed him. “You just stand back and watch.”
“Listen, let me tell you a few quick things about falling. There’s a right way and a wrong way. If you fall to the—”
“Oh, look, it’s my turn!”
He resisted the urge to throw her over his shoulder and haul her out of there because she was a grown woman. A grown woman with a great ass, and he might as well enjoy the show like everyone else would be doing.
With no small wonder, Emily kicked off her high-heeled shoes and climbed the bull, while simultaneously pulling down the dress that wanted to ride up her legs to her ass. This did seem to take a certain amount of dexterity and surprised him. However, straddling the bull was another story altogether.
One deliciously curvy leg came down on either side, the dress riding up high. Stone tried not to salivate, but, man, it had been a long time, and he’d had that exact leg recently pressed up against him. The leg looked even better than it had felt. He needed to seriously reconsider this nice guy scenario and go ahead and take Emily up on her offer.
That dress was now up to her cheeky ass, sitting tight and covering just enough. Emily kept pulling it down in the front, which made it ride slightly up the back. Every time it did, one of the men in the small group surrounding the bull groaned a little.
