Logan.
Because Mr. Backwards Hathadto have a hot name.
Laughing, I slide my hand into his. “Really? We’re shaking hands now?”
He laughs it off and nods his head in gesture for me to join him at a vacant high-top table. Butterflies swarm my stomach as I slide onto the barstool, and I take a moment to rake my gaze over his body. He’s wearing an olive green Henley with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, dark denim jeans, brown boots, and a black baseball hat. His light brown hair is curling even more at the nape of his neck after dancing, and his green eyes seem even richer under the warm lighting of the bar. He’s ruggedly handsome, and if I didn’t know better, I would swear he’d been pulled straight out of one of my favorite small town romances. The kind where the guy lives on a ranch and has five brothers, and you have no choice but to devour the entire series because you know each brother is going to get his own story.
“See something you like?” he asks, and my eyes flick up to his.
Heat rises to my cheeks as I blush. “I think so,” I murmur. I’m not sure if the answer is for him or for me.
“What can I do to sway that answer to a yes?”
This freaking man. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who comes across as confident as he does. He could so easily sound like a cocky asshole, but there’s something about his tone, the dimple that makes itself known when he smiles, and the warmth behind those forest-green eyes that makes me feel like he’s being nothing but genuine.
“I’ll grab us a few drinks while you think about it,” he says, sliding off the stool and heading toward the bar. He returns a few minutes later with two bottles of water and passes one to me. The fact that he made it a point to get me abottleof water and not just a glass surprises me. It’s like he’s trying to prove that I’m safe with him, that he has no ill intentions. “So, what did you come up with?” he asks.
“I do,” I say softly.
“What?” His brows furrow at my answer.
“I do see something I like,” I repeat. “You don’t have to do anything to sway my answer. Nothing more than what you’re already doing.”
He smiles and pulls his hat off, runs his hand back through his hair, then slips it back on. Silence settles between us for a few moments, but it’s not weighted with discomfort. I twist the cap off my water and take a slow drink, trying not to spill any. The last thing I need is to embarrass myself in front of him more than I already did earlier. His eyes dip to my mouth, and a smirk pulls at the corner of his lips as he watches me.
When I set the bottle down and raise a brow at him, he clears his throat and looks away, tipping his chin up to gesture at something on the other side of the room. I turn to look over my shoulder, and a laugh bursts free from my chest.
“C’mon, let’s go check it out.” He tosses his empty bottle in a nearby trash can, then walks around to me, holding his hand out. My eyes meet his as I slip my hand into his, letting him help me down off the barstool.
He releases my hand and moves his to my lower back, gently guiding me as we walk toward the mechanical bull.
“You’re insane if you think I’m getting on that thing,” I say with a laugh as we reach the small crowd surrounding the bull.
Our conversations have been easy and lighthearted, nothing more than surface-level small talk, but it feels good. I almost forgot what it’s like to be around someone who doesn’t know about my past, and it gives me a sense of freedom that I didn’t realize I was missing. Every person in my life knows my story, and over the past few years, those darker pieces of my life have defined me. Getting to be around someone new who only sees the lighter version of me lifts an invisible weight from my shoulders, one I’ve been carrying for far too long.
Even if it’s only for one night, it’s a feeling I want to embrace.
“You’re gonna make me ride it first, aren’t you?” Logan’s voice cuts through the excited shouts of the people surrounding the makeshift arena that’s been set up in one corner. The thought of suggesting that he ride the bull first hadn’t even crossed my mind, but now that he’s mentioned it…
“Have you ever ridden one before?” I ask, turning to face him as I rest an arm over the railing.
There’s something about his relaxed nature that tells me he wouldn’t think twice about giving it a try. A smile has been plastered to his face since the moment we met, spilled drinks and all. Whereas some people might have been rude and upset about having a drink poured on them, even if it was an accident and not at all intentional, Logan has been nothing but kind. Aside from the teasing remarks he made about methrowingmy drinks at him, which I would never do to someone, he hasn’t said or done anything to make me feel bad about it. He’s been a true gentleman, though definitely a flirty one.
“Would seeing me ride the bull keep that smile on your pretty face?”
His question has heat rising to my cheeks. The mere idea of watching this man use his thick thighs to grip the mechanical beast as his hips rock back and forth with the motion sends a different kind of heat straight to my core. “I mean, I definitely don’t hate the idea,” I tell him. The words sounded a lot more flirty in my head than the way they came out. Have I always been this bad at flirting?
“Well, since you don’t hate the idea…” he teases.
“I just wouldn’t want to see you get hurt,” I confess. Which probably sounds crazy considering we barely know each other. I wasn’t always this cautious when it came to trying new things, but it has become a hard habit to break.
“Nah, I won’t get hurt.” His voice is confident as he turns his attention to the arena and the person currently attempting it. “These things are made to be pretty safe. As safe as riding any bucking animal, real or fake, possibly can be, anyway.”
As if on cue, the man on the bull goes flying, landing not-so-gracefully on his back on the inflatable padding. Hoots and hollers ring out, both cheering the man on and booing him for not lasting longer.
“Right.” I point toward the man. “That looked completely safe.”
“Very safe,” he confirms with a smile.
