Page 92 of Wingwoman
“This is fucking nuts,” I muttered to myself.
“This is nothing,” an older woman said beside me.
I blinked, startled that she was talking to me. Hell, I was startled thatanyonewas talking to me while the living god, Josh Gabriel was about to ride a mechanical bull before their very eyes.
“It’s only Sunday. You should see how rowdy they get on the Friday nights he comes in.” She leaned on the bar, fiddling with her pint glass, filled to the brim with something amber and frothy on top.
“He comes here a lot?” I asked.
She gave a nod, her gray streaked ponytail bouncing. “Oh yeah. Though… he usually doesn’t take off his shirt for the ride.” The lines around her brown eyes deepened as she assessed me. “Something tells me that might be a show only meant for your eyes.”
I snorted. “Hardly.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” I followed her gaze to where she inclined her chin toward the roped off stage.
Sure enough, Josh’s gaze was fixed on me as he held one hand in the air. The bull wasn’t going too fast yet. And I watched as his body curved and moved like fluid despite the jerking motions of the mechanical bull. Smoother than any dancer I’d ever seen live.
“Would be a shame to miss that show, huh?” The woman asked.
Josh winked at me, his tongue slipping across his bottom lip.
Heat flushed through my body like I’d just slammed a shot of whiskey. Quickly, I dropped my gaze to my barely touched wine glass. I hadn’t planned on drinking tonight after my killer hangover yesterday, but it had felt rude to not order something at a bar.
“How long has he been coming here?” I asked.
“Oh, Josh started coming here long before he was legally allowed to. But ‘round these parts,” she paused to shrug, “we don’t much care as long as everyone’s safe. And I always kept an eye on him. Usually allowed him a sip of whatever new beer I had on tap. Especially back when he was a kid. Rules are a bit stricter now though. Pretty sad story that boy’s got. For the most part, Josh just wanted an escape from that shitty dad of his and I was happy to offer him that.”
“Oh,” I said, realization dawning on me. “You own this place?”
“For the last thirty years,” she said, then offered me her hand. “I’m Rhonda.”
“Hope. Josh’s… friend.”
“Mm-hm.”
I could have pressed the issue more. Insisted that we were, in fact,just friends. But then, that would sort of defeat the purpose of this whole night out. Defeat the six-week contract to act as his muse. I was supposed to be leading the public to believe we were together… wasn’t I?
With a tap of her palm to the bar, Rhonda picked up her beer and gave me a polite nod of her head. “Well, it was nice to meet you, Hope. I’m sure I’ll see you ‘round here again.”
“I’m sure you will. It was nice to meet you, Rhonda.”
With her beer in hand, she disappeared into the sea of people, leaving me in a crowded bar alone with only a glass of wine and Josh Gabriel’s shirt to keep me company.
I stole a quick glance at Josh. The bull was going really fast now and his focus was no longer on me, flirting, but he stared down at his hand, gripping the handle at the bull’s shoulders.
I tilted my head and pressed my nose into his shirt inhaling deeply. Man he smelled good. Clean and crisp and yet smoky. Like fresh laundry laid out to dry next to a campfire.
“Holy shit,” a voice screeched beside me. “That’s Josh Gabriel’s shirt, isn’t it?!”
Uh oh. My first reaction was to panic over getting caught smelling his shirt. But when I looked up and found Turquoise Thong Girl… or rather, Teal Thong Girl… and her entourage of twenty-something sorority friends staring at the shirt in my hands, I realized they didn’t give a shit about me or that I was smelling his shirt like a psycho. They only cared about the fact that I held legendary Josh Gabriel’s shirt in my hands.
“She must have caught it when he threw it toward the crowd!” the redhead beside her said.
“He didn’t throw it into the crowd. He asked me to hold it for hi—”
“Yeah, right. You expect us to believe Josh Gabriel is here withyou?” Teal Thong Girl said cattily, trying to yank the shirt from my hands.
Luckily, I held onto it, like subconsciously I was ready for her to do that. “Iamhere with Josh.” I gave the shirt another yank, which made her stumble on her wobbly high heels.
