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“Your grandma sounds like a smart woman. I’ll have a piece too, before my food,” he adds.

The waitress gives me a who are you? look and walks off.

“So this is where you and Rhett hang out?” I ask, looking around. It’s big, much bigger than Dirty Dicks, but not as clean. The floors show signs of a life well lived, and the tables have seen better days. But it’s warm and has a sort of homey feel. I can see why the boys like it here.

“It is. The arena we train at is only a couple blocks south, so this is where most of the guys come.”

“Are these most of the guys?” I look around at all the men.

“Pretty much.”

“And them?” I nod to a group of women crowded around a large table in the back. There have to be least twenty of them in all different shapes and sizes.

“Most of them are wives and girlfriends. The buckle bunnies won’t roll in for another hour or so.”

“Here you go.” Our waitress sets two slices of cheesecake on the table, along with three forks. “Your food will be out shortly.”

Linc and I waste no time digging in, and when the silky cake hits my tongue, I moan.

“You make that noise again and we won’t be here long,” Rhett whispers, sliding into the booth next to me.

I smile around the bite in my mouth, and he leans in close.

“I’m sorry I got so tense this afternoon. I know you’re just looking out for me.”

“Apology accepted,” I say, kissing him gently.

He looks at Linc, who’s shoveling cheesecake into his mouth.

“Oh, dude. Not you too.”

Linc shrugs and takes another bite. “I think your woman is on to something.”

“I’m your woman,” I say, nudging Rhett in the side.

He drapes an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. “Damn right you are.”

“You getting on the bull?” Linc asks.

I look at Rhett, unsure who his buddy is talking to. I point to myself. “Me?”

“Yeah.” Linc laughs. “Cheryl is pretty easy. She won’t hurt you too bad.”

“Who is Cheryl?”

“The mechanical bull,” Linc answers, pointing to the opposite side of the bar.

Sure enough, there’s a large doorway, leading into another room.

“If you’re getting on, I suggest you do it before you eat your dinner.”

“She’s not getting on,” Rhett says, stealing a bite of my cake.

I had no intention of getting on Cheryl, but the way Rhett brushed it off makes me want to.

“You don’t think I can handle it?”

Rhett’s eyebrows lift. “I didn’t say that.”

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