Page 26 of Tempted By the Broken Cowboy
“Yes.”
“What kind of bet?”
He looks around the strip club, his eyes wandering around until they light up as they land on something. I follow his line of sight. “I can’t believe this,” I mutter, dragging my fingers through my hair as I size up the mechanical bull.
“You do not want to challenge me to that,” I chuckle.
“You really think you can beat me?” he asks, voice low, teasing, eyes glinting with that damn confident sparkle I want to punch out of him.
“I don’t think,” I snap, shoulders back, chin high. “I know.”
“I like that confidence, which is why I am going to reward it if you win.”
“What do I get?”
“If you win, I will do whatever you want—let you launch Project Clean Up Beck. But if I win, you’re going to…” He trails off for a moment, his eyes lighting up a few seconds later when he figures it out. “Give me a lap dance and leave Iron Stallion for good.”
“What’s the lap dance for?!” I exclaim.
“We are in a strip club, sweetheart. I came here for a reason, and I’m not leaving without one.”
“Then I’ll pay for you to get one.”
“No, I want it from you. Deal or no deal?” he asks, holding his hand out.
I think about it and realize that if I win, I’ll have Beck in the palm of my hand doing what I want. If I lose, I’ll have to leave the ranch and give him a lap dance. The lap dance is a cheap trick on his end, but I don’t really care. My true fear is losing and having to leave Iron Stallion.
“What do you say, sweetheart? It’s either this or another eight weeks of what you experienced today, and trust me, I’ve got a lot more where that came from.”
Now he’s definitely threatening me, and there is only one way to shut him up.
“You have a deal,” I seal with a handshake.
I have to win. Beck might be a professional bareback rider, but I ain’t no city girl either. I know my way around a mechanical bull—I did grow up with a bareback rider for a brother, after all.
Beck laughs, that deep, mocking laugh that makes my chest tighten. “Bold. I like that. But you’re really going to regret it when I win.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I say, rolling my eyes—but inside, my stomach is fluttering with nerves and adrenaline. He’s not just Beck Morgan; he’s Beck Morgan on a mechanical bull, and I’m supposed to make him do whatever I want afterward if I win. Pressure much?
10
BECKETT
The whole place erupts in cheers, whistles, and a few groans as Quinn climbs the small set of steps toward the bull. She looks confident, her shoulders square like she’s been preparing for this moment all her life.
I lean back on my stool, glass of water in hand, watching her. I’m alone, Landon having wandered off, saying he wants no part in our squabble. I don’t blame him—even I would hate to be caught between my sister and my best friend.
The operator gives her a hand up, and she swings a leg over like she’s mounting a throne instead of a machine designed to make her eat dirt. My jaw ticks. This was supposed to scare her off. Embarrass her. Send her running back to her daddy’s cushionedworld. Instead, she settles onto that saddle with a smile that promises she’s about to make me eat my words.
The crowd starts chanting, “Bull! Bull! Bull!” But all I can hear is my own pulse, sharp and insistent.
She shoots me a glance over her shoulder—brief, deliberate, enough to make my chest tighten—and then she nods at the operator.
The machine bucks to life. The bull jerks beneath her, snapping from side to side. Quinn clamps down with her thighs like she means business. The crowd goes wild.
Hell. She looks steady. Too steady.
Her hair whips around her face, her laugh carrying over the roar of the bar, and I feel something hot and unwelcome burn low in my gut. She’s not just holding her own—she’s owning the damn room.
