Chapter one
Bridget
“Seriously, Suzie? What the fuck are we doing here?” My eyes widen, whether in morbid curiosity or total horror, I don’t know.
“Come on Bridge, it’ll be fun. Loosen up. Drop the stiff lawyer act and just relax.”
My best friend could not possibly be more opposite from me in every conceivable way. I’m five ten in flats, ‘long and lean’ as my mother would describe me, with hair that can best be described as straw-like. As in yellow and straight. I work as a corporate attorney and am perfectly content to spend my evenings at home with my pet hedgehog Winston.
Suzie is petite, barely coming up to my shoulder. She’s got curves that make men drool and curly hair that women pay big money to replicate in the salon. She’s a tattoo artist and firmly believes in letting herself enjoy anything and anyone that crosses her path.
Despite our differences, she’s my ride or die. The one person I know will always be there for me and only ever wants the best for me. Even if, right now, we are at odds over what exactly isbestfor me.
“There.That’swhy we’re here, babes.” Suzie spins me around dramatically so that my eyes land on the main attraction — apparently. A mechanical bull is in the center of the room, surrounded by scantily dressed women, and men wearing more plaid than I’ve seen in years.
“No way. No freaking way. Dream on!” I start to step back, but Suzie grabs my hands and drags me forward.
“No arguing. That was the deal, remember? You promised I could either tattoo you or take you out for a night where I make all the decisions for you. And since I don’t see any ink on that perfect body of yours…”
Damn it. She’s right. This is my own fault. Well, mine and two very nice bottles of merlot. After one too many awful dates with men I’d met either through work or online dating, I swore to Suzie I was done. Content to live a quiet, single, solitary life. What’s so bad about becoming a spinster at thirty-eight, anyway? I don’t want kids, never have. So, who needs a man? That’s what vibrators are for.
Yeah, Suzie wasn’t buying it, either. My best friend was horrified by my proclamation, and somehow strong-armed me into making this deal. I could have refused, but then she reminded me of the time when we were kids and I accidentally pushed her off the slide and she broke her wrist. I owed her, and this is how she chose to have me repay her. By either allowing her to give me my first tattoo, which the little sneakknewI would never go for given my phobia of needles, or by spending one night where she would be in charge of everything. And I do mean everything, from what I’m wearing, to what we’re doing.
Which brings us back to this moment. My jeans are so tight I’m surprised I can move, my hair has been braided into some intricate thing that baffles me, and the shirt she put me in…let’s just say it leaves little to the imagination. And now I’m standing in front of a terrifying-looking contraption that I’m certain will cause injury.
Suddenly the tattoo isn’t looking so bad.
“Don’t be silly, you’ll be fine. Come on, you’re next.” Suzie pushes me through the gate and I stumble onto the inflatable mat that surrounds the bull. People are cheering, or are they laughing? Damned if I can tell the difference. This is like high school all over again, only instead of walking out onto the football field with my cheerleading skirt tucked into my panties, I’m about to voluntarily (sort of) climb onto a freaking mechanical bull. When did I turn into a thirty-something country girl who doesn’t even need a bra instead of the sophisticated lawyer who can afford the fancy bras from Victoria’s Secret?
“Okay, come on, Bridget. You can do this.” Muttering under my breath does absolutely nothing to quell the nerves, and everything to increase my self-consciousness. Especially when I hear a low chuckle from nearby that definitely sounds jeering and not supportive. Fuck, I’m really doing this, I guess. I clamber up onto the bull, and my only hope is that I don’t make a complete fool of myself.
Things start out okay. I can hear Suzie whooping and hollering my name as the machine starts to move. Somehow, I manage to rock back and forth, keeping one hand in the air like I was instructed to do. Then it speeds up. What the fuck? My eyes dart wildly around, trying to find the person in control, when I see my evil best friend cozied up to the guy in front of the controls. I yell out her name, but she either doesn’t hear me or chooses not to because the bitch turns it up even more. There’s no way I can stay on.
My sad, pathetic, lonely life flashes before my eyes as I grip the bull with two hands as tightly as I can. There’s only one way this ends in my mind, and that’s with injury and mortification.
Good thing I don’t plan on ever coming here again. Or speaking to my best friend ever again.
Damn you, Suzie.
Chapter two
Topher
I’ve had my eyes on the beautiful blonde ever since she walked in. It was obvious that a country bar was not her scene, but her beauty overrode my senses. I couldn’t look away if I tried. Which is why when she climbed onto the fucking mechanical bull, I made my way closer. But now I feel my frown deepening. Is no one else seeing this? That woman is not having a good time.
I use the entirety of my six-foot, six-inch frame to shoulder my way through the half-drunk crowd over to the opening in the flimsy barrier that surrounds the mechanical bull. God, the day my friend Rich put this damn thing in his bar, I told him it would be trouble. He just laughed and said I shouldn’t worry so much.
But the look on the blonde’s face right now tells me I was right to worry. Her lithe body is starting to slip, and I know what’s coming.
“Ah, fuck it.” I step onto the inflated mats just in time for her to lose her grip and come flying off the bull with a shriek, sending her straight into my arms.
“Easy there, cowgirl, I got you.” My lips are close to her ear, and she’s pressed up against me fully, her hands clutching my shoulders. I can feel her heart racing and hear her rapid breathing. She’s freaking out. Don’t ask me how I know, but I do. She’s headed for a panic attack, and I know if it were me, I wouldn’t want to be surrounded by the idiots in this bar when it happens. I move quickly and swing her up into my arms and carry her out of the bull pen. I don’t stop moving until we’re in Rich’s back office, and I settle down on the couch, still holding blondie in my arms. Only then does she lean back and look at me with a mixture of relief, confusion, and nerves.
Shit, did I really just carry a complete stranger out of the bar without their consent? My mama would fuckin’ kill me if she knew.
“Hey, I’m sorry, lady, you just looked like you needed to get out of there and somewhere quiet. I’m real sorry I didn’t ask first.” I gently lift her out of my arms and set her on the couch beside me, registering an odd sense of loss when she’s no longer touching me.
“That’s…that’s okay,” she stammers out. This close, I can see her eyes are a shade of light blue that reminds me of springtime.
