Page 19 of Rodeo Rivals
McKayla whirled on her heel to find him standing behind her, holding a bottle of beer.
She glared at him. This was supposed to be a fun night out—time to unwind before she got back in the all-mans’ club that was the rodeo. In the sea of strangers, why did the biggest jackasses in the PRCA keep finding her? Did she have a fucking beacon or something? Why couldn’t they just let her enjoy herself? They had to be everywhere, killing her vibe.
He lowered his head and kicked his feet at the dirt on the ground like a child who had gotten caught with his hand in the cookie jar. It was oddly adorable and sweet. It changed nothing. He was still a dick. Though she fought the urge to smile at him.
Ugh. Did he have to be cute? The drinks weren’t that strong, were they? She still had all her faculties. Didn’t she?
“I shouldn’t have said what I said.” He lifted his gaze to meet hers. “It wasn’t right. I shouldn’t have taken my poor performance out on you. I’m sorry.”
Eyes wide, mouth agape, she stared at him dumbfounded. A man in the rodeo apologized? Had hell frozen over?
Clearing her throat, she blinked a few times and collected herself.
“It wasn’t that bad of a performance,” she offered honestly.
He got a check. It probably wasn’t for much. Nevertheless, there were people who’d done a hell of a lot worse. Then again, from what she’d gathered, he isn’t accustomed to finishing as low as he had. Coming back from an injury was always dicey.
“We got off on the wrong foot,” he said.
She laughed. “Well, to be fair, I think we did alright the first time we met.” She sipped at her drink and enjoyed the fruity, watered-down cocktail that hid the flavor of alcohol.
Tilting his head back, he chuckled. “Fair.”
“I accept your apology.” She did a brief curtsy. “Heat of the moment and all that.”
His head bobbed up and down. “So, we’re good?”
It wasn’t like Wyatt went after her like Seth. They were different. She could give him the benefit of the doubt. He was pretty decent in bed, after all. That counted for something.
“Mm-hmm,” she affirmed with a dip of her chin.
“Then would you like to dance?”
15
Wyatt
Step right. Step left. Tap. Go forward and then back. Hell. Wyatt was out of practice. He hadn’t line-danced in a dog’s age. It made him feel old beside McKayla, who was in-step with perfect timing and rhythm. All he could do was not fall on his ass. She was a rock star beside him.
Seriously, though. What couldn’t this woman do? He’d never met a more talented, marvelous person in his life. She hustled pool like a shark, rode rough stock like a champ, danced one hell of a two-step, and fucked like the Energizer Bunny.
What the hell was he even doing? Besides doing his best to keep up with Shaboozey’s “A Bar Song (Tipsy).”
Not for nothing, though, he could go for some hard alcohol.
When the song ended, he leaned down toward her ear. “What do you say? Double shot of whiskey?”
She eyed him skeptically, making him wonder if he had made the right move. Had he crossed theirone night onlyboundary?
Duh. Yeah! This was the third time they’d bumped into each other. That rule went out the window.
As the next tune keyed up, she nodded. “Why the hell not?”
That was good enough for him. Curling his fingers into a fist, he placed it on his hip and offered her his elbow.
Snickering, she slid her hand through, and off they went to find a bar to get some libations.
McKayla
