Page 2 of Rodeo Rivals
“Uh, nah,” Wyatt said as he scrubbed the back of his neck, knowing full well those three were going to hit the bar scene pretty hard. That couldn’t be his thing tonight. He needed rest before riding. “Another time.”
“I’m going to hold you to that,” Seth said as he clapped Wyatt on the back.
The two walked into the hotel together, but when Wyatt headed for the check-in counter, Seth veered off to his room.
Wyatt had to calm the jitters. If he thought too much about tomorrow, he’d psych himself out. One beer wouldn’t hurt, so he drove over to the Double Wide, a local watering hole, that no one on the rodeo circuit knew about—or shouldn’t. It wasn’t flashy or trendy, so why would anyone go there? By taking his own truck, he knew he wouldn’t drink too much. He just needed to take the edge off.
Walking in, he appreciated the colorful Christmas lights strung back and forth across the ceiling, giving the dimly lit bar a festive glow. Odd, considering it was August and nowhere near the holiday season, but who was he to judge? For all he knew, they’d just celebrated Christmas in July and hadn’t removed the decorations yet.
As he slid onto an empty stool at the bar, he smirked at the massive horns and taxidermic raccoon behind the bar. Old-school hubcaps lined the walls of the narrow drinking establishment. It truly couldn’t be larger than a double-wide. Behind him were several booths, with a few couples enjoying cocktails.
Just beyond the bar, in the far back of the one-room establishment, was a lone pool table. A woman wearing acid wash jeans with a matching vest bent over the felt as she slid her long cue back and forth before taking her shot. It wasn’t an unpleasant view at all.
“What can I get you?” the bartender asked, drawing his attention away from the woman with the apple-bottom derriere.
While a Lynchburg Lemonade was on the tip of his tongue, he decided it wasn’t that kind of night. With too many of those, he’d be abandoning his truck in the parking lot. That was against his plan, so he’d better stick to something light.
“You got any IPAs?” he asked.
The spiky-haired bartender arched a brow. “We’ve got Bud Light, Miller Lite, Coors Light, Amstel Light, and Blue Moon on tap. Corona, Guinness, Angry Orchard, and all those in bottles.”
Nodding, he glanced down the bar again to see the fancy handles on their tap. Or if he were honest with himself, it was to get another look at the woman in acid wash. She had dark hair tied back in a poofy ponytail that almost resembled a mohawk of sorts. In the low light, he couldn’t quite make it out, but it looked like she had a tree tattooed on her shoulder and down her bicep.
Clearing his throat, realizing the bartender was waiting on him, he brought his focus back to her. “Blue Moon is fine. Thanks.”
With a nod, the woman shifted down the bar, grabbed a pint glass, and put it beneath the spout. As he watched, his gaze found its way back to the woman popping her hip and curling her fingers around the cue as she studied the pool table.
Hot damn.
Wyatt had had his fair share of buckle bunnies in the past. The scantily clad women with their breasts on display and their asses hanging out of booty shorts vying for his attention didn’t hold a candle to this enchantress. It was obvious the women who wore cowboy boots as a fashion statement rather than out of necessity missed a meal or two, but not the billiards beauty. She was thick in all the right places. The brief glances of her face in the twinkle of Christmas lights mesmerized him. He needed to meet her.
The bartender cleared her throat as she served his drink. Wyatt tore his gaze from the unknown woman and reached for his wallet.
“Thank you,” he said as he offered her a twenty-dollar bill.
He should be ashamed of himself for ogling her so openly, but he couldn’t seem to muster the shame. A woman as gorgeous as that deserved all of his attention and more.
Taking a sip of his beer, he waited for his chance. He wanted to get closer so he could fully assess the situation. The captivating woman seemed to keep her distance from her opponent but openly smiled and batted her lashes at him—flirting. If he got date vibes from them, he’d leave it alone, but on the off chance it was just a game, Wyatt would definitely pick up a cue and shoot his shot. He wasn’t all that good at pool, but he could hold his own.
3
McKayla
This guy was a hack. McKayla had to bite her lip to keep from laughing right in his face. He knew nothing about playing pool. Seriously. The easiest fifty bucks she’d ever earned. As she sipped her Kentucky Mule, which was basically a Moscow Mule, but instead of vodka she had bourbon, she considered goading her opponent into upping the bet. Could his ego handle being beaten by a girl?
Snickering to herself when he missed his shot, she placed her glass down on the small ledge meant for such things. “Aw. You were so close,” she said with an exaggerated pout.
Her opponent stared at the stained green felt table and ruffled his own hair. “This table has got to be crooked or something. I never play this badly.”
Of course not. It had to be the table and not his lack of skill. He’d already blamed and switched his stick three times. Why couldn’t it be something else?
Nodding, McKayla moved around him as she eyed her next shot. “It’s possible,” she agreed as she bent over the table.
The curved cue slid over her thumb like butter as she tapped the scuffed white ball, sending it between two striped ones. Standing back, she did her best not to appear too smug as the eleven dropped into a corner pocket and the fifteen found its way to a side pocket.
All that remained was the eight ball. She’d set herself up nice and pretty as she scooted around again, putting distance between herself and the guy she played against. She never knew how men would react to being hustled by a woman.
It was a dangerous game for sure. Especially in dark, seedy bars like this one. She needed to be careful.
