Every.Hard.Edge.
“I’m going to go get us something to drink.” He kisses my cheek. “Stay right here with Millie, Jess, and Ruka. Don’t move.”
“I won’t go anywhere. Promise.” I stand on my tiptoes to give him a quick peck, and I can taste the saltiness of sweat on my lips. “I’ll settle for a soda.”
“I’ll be right back. Don’t move,” he warns again. “If you do, I’m going to spank your ass when I get home.”
Arousal tingles through my body, and Oklahoma jerks me closer to him by tugging on my belt loop.
I love it when he does that.
He growls. It’s low and throaty, his eyes shining as bright as rubies set on fire. “Don’t tempt me, Sugar.”
“What if tempting you is what I want to do?” I run my finger down his chest, doing my best to break his control around all these people.
Burn it to the Groundby Nickelback comes on, and everyone shouts in excitement, breaking the intense moment between us.
With a gentle shove from him, I’m in line again, finding the step they are on. I stumble a few times as I try to remember the line dance to this song, and I finally get it about halfway in.
“Ladies and Gentlemen. I have been made aware there is rodeo royalty in the house!” The bartender announces and rings the bell, the music stopping mid-step.
Oklahoma has two drinks in his hands, and his eyes are closed, clearly annoyed by being found out. He doesn’t talk about his rodeo days much, not after his partner Cal died.
If I’ve learned one thing about my mate, he doesn’t like attention when he doesn’t want it. He likes to lie low and mind his business.
I slither through the crowd. “Excuse me. Sorry, excuse me,” I say repeatedly, weaving my way towards Oklahoma.
My boots stick to the beer-ridden floor, and one guy tries to grab my arm to ask me to dance, but Oklahoma is there, towering over him, his eyes crimson with the promise of violence.
“Whoa.” The drunk man sways on his feet. “Cool contacts.” He raises his arms in surrender and backs away. “She’s yours. Got it.”
Oklahoma doesn’t take his eyes off the guy until he finally turns around and finds another woman to dance with.
“Everyone! Please give a warm welcome to one of our own, Oklahoma Richards! The man who holds five championship titles and dozens of records. No other cowboys have been able to breakoneof those records. If you want to see him on the bull, make some noise!”
Oklahoma stretches his neck to the right, then left, his hands tightening on the drinks he has in his hold. I take them from him before they shatter, setting them on a nearby table littered with empty bottles and glasses.
The entire place screams in excitement. People stomp their boots, heightening the pressure for Oklahoma to perform for them.
I know he doesn’t want to. He never wants to do anything rodeo-related again.
“Ok-la-homa. Ok-la-homa,” the crowd chants.
Ruka must see the discontent on Oklahoma’s face because he comes up and grips his shoulder—a sign of support. “Hey, you don’t have to do anything. We can leave right now. They will be bummed for all of two seconds before they forget all about you.”
“No, it’s okay,” my mate relents. “It’s fine. Old memories have to be laid to rest at some point, right?”
He’s right, but just because pain is finally at rest doesn’t mean it has to be relived. He takes my hand and leads me to the other room where the mechanical bull is, Ruka following behind me along with the others.
When we pass people, I watch in fascination as they peer up at Oklahoma. They look at him like he is a celebrity, like they can’t believe they get to see him. It hits me he is much more popular than he gives himself credit for. He’s a big name in a small town, and people are going to want to see what he does best.
“Ruka, stay close to Nariko, please. Don’t leave her side in this crowd.”
Ruka wraps his arm around my shoulder, pulling me to his side. “I won’t. Promise.”
“Everyone, please welcome to the bull, Oklahoma Richards!” The announcer sings into the microphone, and everyone cheers.
People gather in close. Shoulders bump shoulders as people try to push others out of the way for a better view. Me, Ruka, and the girls are up front, grabbing the silver rail that separates the mechanical bull from the audience.
