I’ll be his.
Lydia’sbeenpracticallywaterboardingme with tequila all night, but I’m finally drunk enough to admit she was right. This is one of the best nights I’ve ever had.
Lane spins me around the dance floor, and I feel weightless—like every worry outside this bar doesn’t exist.
Somewhere between the laughter and the music, something shifts. This is what it’s supposed to feel like. Finding someplace I fit. These people. This way of life. Him.
Maybe it’s just the tequila muddling my brain, but the thought of leaving aches like a bruise beneath my ribs. An ache that has nothing to do with the handsome cowboy wrapped around my waist.
Lydia elbows her way through the crowd, dragging us toward a room in the back.
I spot the mechanical bull and shake my head. “Nope.No way.Not happening, Lyd.”
“Don’t be a chicken shit!” She grins. “You saw the guys at the rodeo. If they can do it, so can you.”
“That is nowhere near the same thing—“ Lane starts, but she shuts him up with a palm to the face and shoves me forward.
“You’ve got this, Sadie!”
Fuck. Me.
I stumble, laughing, but Lane steadies me. His voice is low and grounding as his eyes flick between mine. “You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.”
“I know,” I breathe, glancing over at the faux bull in the center of the ring before looking back at Lane. “But she’s not going to let it go. Might as well get it over with now.”
Shifting onto my tiptoes, I kiss him, not worrying who sees. I’m done hiding.
We’re telling Heath tomorrow.
And I want everyone to know that Lane Hartford ismine.
He squeezes my hand reassuringly before letting me go and going to stand with Lydia, who isn’t even trying to mask her excitement.
I climb up onto the bull, shifting in the seat. My thighs grip the sides tightly and I grab hold of the leather strap near the head.
“Give me a thumbs-up when you’re ready to go, sweetheart,” the operator calls.
I look over my shoulder to where Lane and Lydia are standing and my insides dip. The rest of our group has gathered around them. I should be looking for Lane, but my eyes betray me—finding Wesley instead, his gaze already locked on mine.
“Go Fuck Yourself” starts playing.How ironic.My hands shake as I tighten my grip on the leather strap. My eyes shift to the operator, I give him a thumbs up, and the bull starts moving.
It’s slow at first, subtly dipping and rolling in rhythm with the beat.
This is fine. Everything is fine.
I try to let my body relax and flow with the movement, feeling the music. My hips tilt and grind against the bull.
A few hoots and cheers ring out, but I can’t tell who. Can’t hold back the smile taking over my face.
All at once, my guard is down and the built-up tension reaches a climax. The once-slow pace of the song changes as the beat drops, and with it, the bull’s movement accelerates.
Subtle dips turn to sharp rolls. I grip tighter with my thighs, hips rolling to stay on, heat flashing through me with every twist. And somehow, I manage to keep my seat. The cheers in the background ring a little louder.
The speed increases more and more until the bull is spinning and bucking erratically and I’m thrown off into the inflatable ring.
I’m still grinning and breathless as Lane extends his hand to pull me up and help me over the side.
“Holy fuck! You looked incredible up there.” He grabs the sides of my face and pulls me in for a kiss.
