Page 116 of The Games We Play
“Oh my God,” I groaned with a laugh, shaking my head. “You’re incorrigible.”
“If I had my way, though,” she said slyly, “I’d like to see that cute bartender hop up on the bull.”
My head whipped toward her, eyes wide. “Wait… Mac?”
She burst into laughter and waved her hand. “Oh, no, no. The one with all the piercings.”
“Dudley?”
“Yes!” she exclaimed, pointing a finger at me, delight lighting up her entire face. “That one’s too handsome for his own good.”
I couldn’t help it—I laughed so hard my eyes watered.
“Unbelievable,” I said, shaking my head, but feeling lighter than I had when I walked in.
35
MAC
The bar was packed. Wall-to-wall bodies, sweat and laughter clinging to the air like cheap perfume. In all my years working here, I’d never seen anything like it. Penny’s fundraiser wasn’t just a success it was making fucking history.
Leave it to Penny Hudson to pull off an event like this with barely any lead time.
She’d pitched the idea to me a few nights ago, in her kitchen. I’d tried to resist, but she had a way of making no sound like yes. One look from her—those big, stubborn eyes—and I was done for.
She ran it by her boss the next day, and the board jumped at the chance. They wanted it done fast, to take advantage of the tourist spillover from the neighboring cities’ rodeo season.
Penny handled every detail. I sat at her dining table one morning, coffee in hand, and watched her work her magic. She demolished every half-formed idea I offered with something sharper, smarter, better. Her brow was furrowed in concentration, tongue tucked between her lips as her fingersflew across the keyboard like lightning. I’d never been so turned on by logistics.
Now, here I was bartending her masterpiece.
I was damn good at my job. I’d slung drinks on the Vegas Strip, but nothing could’ve prepared me for the crowd crammed into the bar tonight. This small town had never seen action like this.
The mechanical bull was the main event, of course. Against my better judgment, I’d let her rent the damn thing. But I had to admit—it was genius. That, and the themed drink menu we came up with.
Penny even made sure Jolie, Dudley, and I had custom shirts for the night. Mine readRide of Your Life. I’d snipped the sides clean off, exposing every inch of ink down my ribs and the sharp cut of my torso. Paired it with dark bootcut jeans, my well-worn cowboy boots, and a cigarette tucked behind one ear.
Somehow, she even roped in Logan, Boone, and Rhodes to help work the floor. Better yet, she had them walking aroundshirtless, cowboy hats on, passing out shots like they were straight out of a raunchy fantasy.
If one more woman tried to climb Boone like a tree, I wouldn’t be surprised if he made a sign that said,Happily Taken and She’s Over Thereand pointed it directly at Aspen.
Speaking of, Aspen, Theo, and Ellie were parked at the bar, laughing and drinking while the guys navigated the crowd like cattle through a gate.
Women were slipping dollar bills into the waistbands of their jeans as they passed, putting on a show.
Somehow, in all this madness, all I could think about was Penny.
Tonight, she had her hair down, her own cowboy hat tipped low as she moved through the bar with the kind of casual confidence that could kill a man. Her shirt—if you could evencall it that—was cropped high enough to drive me insane, and her boots hit just below the knee, hugging her long, toned legs like a damn dream.
I was fucking putty.
Every step she took, every glance she tossed my way, every teasing wink. It was a slow, torturous game she was playing. And I was her willing victim.
“Some of these women aresavages,” Rhodes muttered, stepping up to the service counter and dropping his tray like it had personally offended him.
The speakers pumped out a steady country beat that pulsed through the old wooden walls, vibrating beneath our boots.
I grabbed the red tip bucket from behind the bar and held it out toward Rhodes with a grin. “Come on, pay up. The library thanks you for your service.”
