Page 35 of Wild and Unruly
He aims his bag and tosses it, landing just on the edge of the board and earning one point.
“Ah,” he says, shrugging and backing away from our ramp. The other guy throws it, and it sinks right into the hole. I blink in shock.
“Wow.” I clear my throat and take my place, rolling the bag in my hands and letting my arm roll back, launching the bag at their board and…missing by a foot. I frown at the bag on the ground, and the other team gathers the bags, handing them back to us.
The woman steps up to her place and launches the bag herself. It hits our board too high, then slowly slides down and, poof, disappears into the hole.
I stare in disbelief as I hear them cheering over the other teams playing, the music in the background doing nothing to disguise their glee.
I feel Stetson step up behind me, his hands on my hips, and his lips hit my ear when he asks, “How competitive are you?”
“Very,” I answer, a little bit of fire in my words.
He squeezes my hip and says, “Good.”
After a few more rounds, we finally start getting good at this game. It’s not hard at all, but we’re both determined to get better and better. As a joke, Stetson starts to hold my hips when I throw, laughing about keeping me from falling over.
More drinks arrive, and I note he switched to water so he can drive us home. If I wasn’t already into him, he was proving himself over and over on this date. It was probably the best first date I’d ever been on.
I was always too awkward to really date, too loud, couldn’t stop talking, and put my foot in my mouth several times during the dates—just plain weird. But with him, I felt confident, I felt relaxed, and I felt free to be myself.
Maybe it was the fact that we’d already been intimate with each other, or maybe it was just him.
The thought both terrifies and excites me. It makes me thrilled to be here with him, hopeful for the future, but also scared that I’m going to mess it up.
I really feel inclined not to mess it up.
“Your turn, Bo!” Stetson says, smiling broadly at me, and fora second, I just stare at him. His smile falters a little, and he steps up to me, wrapping his hand around my waist. “What is it?”
I shake my head, that twitch to my lips not leaving my mouth. “No one has ever called me Bo before.”
“Really?” He frowns, his eyes glancing between my own. “What did they call you?”
I laugh and shrug, shaking my head. “Bonnie.” Mason had sometimes called me Bobo growing up, but I wasn’t about to say that out loud.
Finally, I manage to keep my mouth shut.
“Well.” He clears his throat, his head angled down to look at me as he pulls me in closer. I let my hands rest on his arms. “Bonnie is a beautiful name. But I kinda like Bo.”
I bite my lip, looking up at him. “I kinda like Stetson.”
His gaze softens, and he bends down, taking my lips for his own, and I feel my heart give a terrifying little flutter.
13
stetson
Over the nextcouple of days, I don’t get to see Bonnie much at all as she’s busy working on interviews, riding out into the mountains with Dani and CT, taking photos, and generally just doing her job. I do my best to stay out of her way, even though those shy little grins she sends me throughout the day have me wishing I could rip her into a stall and pull her against me.
Which I swear, I only do once.
But I happened to have been cleaning the stall when she walked by unaware that the natural sway of her hips and the swing of her ponytail were about to drive me half insane.
I’d reached out, my gloved hand clasping her arm as she read something off of her phone and she squeaked, tripping over her shoes and landing in my arms where I held her upright.
“Stetson!” Her whispered shout made me smile, and I leaned against the stalls. “What are you doing?”
“What are you doing?” I accused playfully, nodding to the alleyway. “I see you walking around, flaunting it out in front of me.”
