Page 74 of Cadence
Grabbing her hand, he pulls her through the crowd, leading her to the inflatable fence as he vaults over and hauls himself onto the machine. The thing starts to spin in lazy circles, and he grips the rope with one hand like he’s in a goddamn rodeo.
Beau and I reach Paige’s side, leaning on the barrier, my beer bottle hanging between my fingers.
“Ten bucks says he makes it eight seconds,” Beau says and nudges me.
“Six,” I counter, holding my hand out. We shake, then watch Eli’s limbs flail in four different directions.
“I take five,” Paige says, a coy smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.
She holds out her hand, and I look down before sliding mine into hers just as Eli’s limbs pinwheel and he’s launched clean off the bull. Gasping, her head whips up to watch him land flat on his back with a dramatic groan.
“It’s fine,” Eli calls out, winded. “Don’t need a spine anyway.”
The crowd whoops, and Beau heckles something to Eli from behind cupped hands as he pushes to his feet.
But all I feel is Paige’s hand still wrapped in mine. My thumb brushes the inside of her wrist without meaning to, soft and slow, the touch so gentle it’s like I didn’t do it at all. She blinks, eyes darting to mine, her smile flickering, caught in the middle of a game we’re not supposed to be playing this close to the guys.
“Think I won,” she whispers, stepping closer.
I swallow, fingers itching to hold more than her wrist as Eli appears from the other side of the blow-up fence, grinning from ear to ear. “Who’s next?”
Paige jerks back, breaking our hands apart. She clears her throat and shakes out her fingers, looking up at Eli. “I’ll go.”
Eyebrow lifting, I rear back in surprise. “Can you even ride that thing?”
“Looks pretty easy.” She glances behind her, then back at me, blue eyes shining under the dim light. “Just squeeze my thighs and hold on tight, right?”
The words land straight in my gut, hot and unintentional, but completely lethal. Eli splutters, coughing into his arm, while Beau snorts into his beer with smug amusement. Paige’s eyes go round, her head whipping between the three of us as she realizes what she just said.
“Wait— I didn’t—”
“Uh-huh.”
“Oh, fuck you,” she groans, laughing, half-mortified, half-amused, ducking her head and bringing her drink to her lips.
My eyes are drawn to the curve of her mouth as it circles the straw. A flush spreads down her throat, and her legs press together as she shifts her weight, and all I can picture is her in my lap instead of that bull. Thighs tight, trembling, and so fucking perfect.
“Don’t tempt me,” I mutter.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
She watches me, tilting her head, chewing the inside of her cheek before Eli steps forward, grabbing the nearest cowboy hat off the wall and plopping it on her head. “Show us what you’ve got, then.”
Running a finger along the brim, she tosses me one last look over her shoulder before rounding the barrier and swinging a legover the bull. One hand grips the rope, the other hovering over her thigh.
A small crowd closes in, the girl with the long auburn hair and eyes so blue they look like the ocean on a clear day pulling everyone into her spell. I’m no different, locked on her without a choice or reason.
Paige sits tall, thighs squeezing tight just like she said, confidence rolling off of her in waves. When it jerks beneath her, she doesn’t flinch, riding with it, hips rolling in a slow, fluid rhythm that should be illegal in public. Controlled. Certain. Pure seduction disguised as balance.
My breath catches. I don’t cheer, don’t blink, just watch.
She glances at me for a split second as she finds the beat, syncing to the bull’s lurch and sway. Her hair flies as it picks up speed, hand reaching up to catch the cowboy hat, holding it in place as laughter spills out from her like it’s been trapped in there too long.
And God, that laugh. It hits me straight in the chest every damn time, taking something vital with it. And when she looks at me again, eyes locking mid-ride, I forget how to breathe entirely.
I lift my beer, hiding the hitch of my lips, and just like that, she falters. A flash of surprise crosses her face before the bull bucks hard, and she loses her grip. In a blur of legs and denim, she tumbles backward onto the mat, laughter still tearing from her throat as she lands in a sprawl, hat long gone, hair fanned out like wildfire.
