Page 162 of Boots, Bucket Lists & Bad Ideas
She’s the reason I’m up here. That surge of protectiveness bubbles up fierce. That’s what I’ve always done. Protect her. She might not know it, but I’d do anything to keep her safe.
Anything.
Including this.
The bull jerks beneath me, and that’s when I realize I’m sittin’ crooked. My body shifts sideways, unbalanced, and in that split second, my groin gives a sharp reminder of the ant bites. The pain spikes, sudden and brutal, and I fall off like a sack of wet laundry.
“Shit,” one brother curses.
“Ouch,” another one chimes in.
“What the hell?”
I can’t register who says what, as my body hits the padded ground and knocks the air from my lungs.
Shit is right.
I hear the laughter. It might grate me more if I weren’t seeing double.
“Get back on,” Bronx taunts.
Why does his voice stand out so distinctly?
“Don’t tell me that’s all you’ve got.”
I glare at him. “You think I’m done?”
He shrugs, a grin plastered on his face. “I think the bull’s done with you, but sure, give it another shot.”
I don’t glance at Jade. I can’t.
With a grunt, I grab the saddle again and climb back onto the bull. A wave of discomfort hits.
My brain’s already shouting at me to get off, but there’s no way I’m retreating now.
“Ten bucks says he doesn’t make it five seconds.” Bronx slaps a bill on the table, a quick, confident motion.
Dean counters, tossing a larger bill with a smirk, “Twenty bucks says less than three seconds. I saw the bite marks on his balls and there ain’t no way he’s staying on.”
“He didn’t see my balls!”
I’m going to be the walking target for every ball and cock joke within a hundred-mile radius.
I take a deep breath. This time, I’m staying on. And I do, for all of four seconds before I rush to meet the ground. The impact rattles my teeth.
For a moment, I think I’m just gonna die right here. My whole body aches, but nothing’s more painful than the burning sensation between my legs.
My brothers erupt in laughter. The sting between my legs is enough to make me swear off ever doing anything remotely fun again.
I sit up, groaning as I clutch my crotch.
My brothers are losing it.
Dean’s doubled over. “You still got ants in your pants?”
I glare at him through gritted teeth.
“Shut up,” I mutter, trying to stand.
