Page 118 of The Games We Play
I clapped Dudley on both shoulders, leaning in close.
“You two hold down the bar for a minute?”
He didn’t miss a beat. “We’ve been holding it down for the last ten while you were running your mouth. What’s a few more?” His tone was serious, but the smirk he wore was anything but.
I grinned, snuffed out my cigarette in the nearest tray, and ducked around the back of the bar. My boots thudded against the worn wooden floor as I pushed through the thick press of bodies, making my way toward the bull in the far corner.
She was already there.
Penny.
Laughing with a group of girls, her smile wide and wild, her cheeks flushed from whiskey and heat. She tossed her hair over her shoulder like she knew damn well how magnetic she was.
Part of me wanted to make a scene. The jealous, reckless part, the part that still felt the sting of not having her the way I used to. I wanted every guy in the bar to know she wasn’t theirsto look at like that. She was mine, whether she admitted it yet or not.
I stalked over to the guy manning the controls and said, “I’m up next.”
He gave me a slow nod, then motioned toward the bull.
Stretching my neck side to side, I stepped onto the platform just as a buzzer split through the air, signaling the next rider. The crowd shifted, turning toward the mat like they knew something good was coming. I swung my leg over the cold, fake hide of the bull and settled into position. One hand gripped the rope. The other stayed loose, raised in the air.
Then I heard it.
Her laugh.
Somehow it cut through the music, through the crowd noise, slicing right into my chest. I didn’t look at her yet, I needed all my focus to be on me and this bull.
The operator flipped the switch, and the bull lurched beneath me. I clenched my jaw, shifting my weight.
I looked up and immediately found her in the crowd, a big mistake.
Penny stood near the edge, arms folded under her chest, head tilted, mouth parted like she was caught between amusement and something else. Something hotter. Her eyes locked with mine, and there it was.
Possession. Challenge. Hunger.
I brought my attention back. My hips rolled with the bull’s rhythm, every movement calculated, controlled. It shifted beneath me, jerking into a hard spin, the world blurring for a beat before snapping straight again. I stayed grounded, locked in.
Facing the crowd again, I winked at Penny and sent her a dimpled smirk before I let go.
Both hands shot into the air, fingers spread wide, a show of confidence that wasn’t entirely fake. It was strength, yeah, but it was also pure adrenaline. I clenched with my core, kept myself anchored with nothing but muscle and the burning need to impress her.
The bull kicked harder, more unpredictable now, testing my balance. I moved with it, riding each surge like it was second nature. Every twist of my torso, every snap of my hips, was a silent message. Every flex of my body was aimed ather.
Then the music changed, and I laughed.
“Save a Horse (Ride a Cowboy)” blasted through the speakers like the universe had a sense of humor. The crowd roared around me—cheering, whooping—but none of it touched me.
I was too focused on her.
As the bull slowed for a beat, prepping for its next jolt, I shifted my weight and flipped around, now riding backward. A collective gasp echoed from the crowd, just before the machine bucked again, hard. I leaned into it, pressing my back against the curve of the bull like I was daring it to throw me.
It did.
One brutal spin and I was airborne, landing hard on the mat with a thud that knocked the air right out of my lungs.
But hell, if it wasn’t worth it.
Applause erupted around me, and cheering voices filled the space. The rush still surged in my blood as I got to my feet, breath coming fast, heart slamming against my ribs. I threw my hands into the air and bowed, a slow grin spreading across my face.
