by Shey Stahl
Britany moves to sit next to me. “You okay, babe? You look nervous.”
“Yeah.” I take a drink of my beer hoping that it calms my nerves. “This is just a lot to take in. Just a few days ago we were having sex on the floor of a barn and now I’m at a bar with him and he has a kid and you’re the kid’s mom.” Well that sorta just spilled out of me, didn’t it?
Britany laughs at my bluntness and the way I revealed all that to her. “They’re the rock stars of bull riding. Be prepared for that and you’ll do just fine. And I’m sorry he didn’t tell you, but Grayer’s pretty private most of the time. He didn’t mean ill-intent by it, I assure you. He’s a good guy. Just dumb sometimes.”
Our eyes meet and I want the reassurance from her. “You’re not together, right?”
She laughs. Once. “No. Way.” She’s so nonchalant about the way she says it, there’s no weirdness. “You got nothing to worry about. I’m not going to tell you not to see him, or him not to see you. He’s just the baby daddy and a friend.”
I can’t believe he has a kid. And why does it attract me to him more than it should? The more it settles in, the more I like him because he is a good guy. He didn’t run from responsibility and here they are making it all work together. I mean, heck, look, they’re even friends. How often can you say that happens?
I look to Haylee and Ty engaged in conversation and smile. She’s laughing at something he’s telling her, which for Haylee is not something you see that often.
Big & Rich blares through the bar, thumping in my chest. Haylee is now dancing in her seat on Ty’s lap, moving to the beat of “Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy.”
Ty starts laughing. He is either turned on or finds Haylee’s dancing funny. “Show me what you got, baby,” he says, smacking her ass.
Ty reminds me of Grayer when he talks, slow and raspy.
Reid gets up when Ty and Haylee leave to the dance floor and joins Grayer and the man next to him. Grayer turns to me and winks, a reassurance he’ll be back soon.
Britany leans into my shoulder. “Are you mad at him for not telling you?”
“No, I’m not mad. It just sort of surprised me.”
“Well, I’ll tell you this. Nothing disconnects Grayer from bull riding. It’s his life. His temper rattles others, but from the moment he returned from Ellensburg, I could tell something was different about him.”
I glance over at her. “Do you know him very well?” Just because they had a kid doesn’t mean she knows him that well, or does it?
“Yeah. I met them all about the same time, but Grayer and I became really good friends. And that’s all we were in the beginning. I’m their manager, but then about three years ago, Grayer seduced me, as we all know how that’s possible.” She laughs, rolling her eyes, and I get it. I can see exactly how he’d seduce someone. “We messed around a couple of times, no strings or anything—” She stops midsentence, her eyes over my shoulder. “I really should let him explain that part.”
I follow her stare to see Grayer glaring at her. “Oh.”
“It may sound strange, but I’m with Reid now.”
“Oh.” It seems that’s the only word I’m capable of. I take another drink of my beer. Britany takes a sip of her water. “How’d you end up getting together with Reid?”
“We went out for a drink one night and things just sort of led that way.”
I feel weird asking these questions. My eyes keep darting from Britany to Grayer and then to the floor.
I look at Reid standing beside Grayer. He’s about an inch taller than Grayer. I can see Reid’s appeal, just as easily as I see Grayer’s. They’ve got that rugged cowboy thing going on with the tan skin, muscles everywhere you look, scruffy faces, and roused golden locks. I definitely see the appeal. They’re like the freaking Hemsworth brothers of professional bull riding.
“Reid and I actually married this winter.” Britany’s hand drops to her stomach that I notice has a slight bulge. “We’re expecting our baby in December.”
That makes me feel better. At least Grayer wouldn’t want her back, right?
Grayer returns with Reid and kicks Britany’s leg lightly only to have Reid shove him playfully. “Hands off my girl.”
“Don’t go tellin’ her lies ’bout me,” Grayer warns, giving Britany a glare as he sits next to me, his hand on my leg, squeezing my knee. “Where’s Ty?”
I nod to the dance floor. “Dancing with Haylee.”
The song’s about over, but Grayer turns to me. “Wanna dance?”
Oh. Uh, okay. He dances too? Well duh, I saw him on a bull. He’s got moves for sure. “Sure.” I’m so glad my words are better than my internal thoughts. He takes my hand, or I take his, either way, I love my hand wrapped in his.
He leads me to the center of the dance floor, whispering in my ear, “You can dance, right?”
“Yes.” Wrapping my arms around him, my hands slide over the nape of his neck. His lashes lower, watching me as his hands glide to my hips.
The song changes; it’s fast-paced. I’m not sure what to expect when he starts to move me around the dance floor, but I quickly see that he can dance too. The way he steps back when I start to move and gives me a once over, and that smile . . . my heart jumps in my chest. I shake my ass for him too. Maybe not your typical country dancing, but it’s perfect for the moment.
Drawing me in tight, he locks his arms around me. “You wanna ride a cowboy?” His mouth lingers on my ear. It tickles and so damn good. “I know one who might be interested.”
I sigh in his ear, my body wrapping around him, and my breathing hitches, noticeably. His grip tightens, and his breathing hitches too when my mouth finds his neck. His grip is tight but, I want it tighter.
I raise an eyebrow. “Might be interested?”
He chuckles, holding me a little tighter. “He’s obsessed.”
“She’s obsessed,” I tell him, drawing back to see his reaction.
He stops moving and cups my cheeks with both hands. It sends a jolt through my body and his body presses into mine. Every hard line is against me, giving me his heat. A tiny fire breaks out over my skin, unfamiliar yet exhilarating. I’ve known him two weeks and driven thousands of miles to see him. What that means, I don’t know.
“I’m serious. I can’t stop thinking about you.” His voice is low, his eyes darting from mine and then to my lips, like he wants to kiss me, but he doesn’t. He’s watching me. Waiting for me to say something. “It’s driving me fuckin’ crazy.”
Just when I think he’s going to kiss me, Ty bumps into him. “Hey, champ, we’re getting food. Hungry?”
I realize then that I’m starving. Grayer looks at me. “Let’s get you some food. You’re going to need your strength tonight.”
Oh . . . uh. . . . There goes my internal speechlessness. “I was hoping that would be the case,” I say, without thinking.
Ty shakes his head. “I think we should have got separate rooms.”
Grayer shoves him, placing his hand between Ty’s shoulder blades. It’s all in good humor it seems, but I’m a little disappointed that they’re all in the same room.
“I’m starving!” Haylee announces. “Someone wouldn’t let me stop for food.”
Grayer grins playfully. “She would have missed my ride.”
“Something tells me you would have given her another one.” Haylee’s blunt. She always has been.
Grayer shrugs and looks at me. “I plan to.”
As we’re walking toward the restaurant portion of the club, Haylee wraps her arm around me when Grayer lets go of my hand. He keeps close, but not enough that he’s hearing what Haylee says. “Are you okay with everything? I mean, they’re not married or anything, are they?”
“I’m good. They’re not together.”
“So . . . the brother . . . I’m totally digging him.”
I know exactly what she’s referring to. She wants Ty. And if I didn’t know, like it wasn’t obvious what she meant, she wraps her arm
around him and then drops her hand to squeeze his ass.
He laughs. “Where have you been all my life?”
“Wyoming, Ellensburg . . . in your dreams.”
At the restaurant, it’s not easy to hear because of the music in the bar. I don’t need to hear much. I need to eat. Haylee and I pretty much lived off gas station food for the past few days. I’m definitely hungrier than I thought because when my burger arrives, I devour it without hesitation.
The conversation around the table is mostly the guys talking about the bulls they drew for today and tomorrow and Ty being awarded a re-ride because the bull he was on didn’t perform.
Though they’re talking, Grayer’s eyes dart back to mine every few seconds. Like he’s making sure I haven’t gone anywhere. His words ring in my ears and food is suddenly the very last thing on my mind. It’s him. Just him. That hat, those eyes and that smile, all of it. I’m really not sure what to make of it. There’s something so different about him than I remember seeing in Ellensburg.
When I glance over at Haylee next, she’s laughing, flirting with Ty, and it’s nice to see her so relaxed after everything that went down with Tucker. This trip was definitely something we needed to take.
After we finish eating, Grayer sits a little closer, drinking slow and talking even slower, laid back and whispering words I’ve only dreamed of hearing, let alone believing, coming from him.
Dirty things. Like he thought of me the entire way to Decatur, and that he was pretty sure he’s been hard since he left me and all the things he wants to do to me. And more. He tells me he wants to fuck me, right now, in this bar, in front of all these people. It gets to a point where I’m about to beg him to do just that. “Okay.” I push against his shoulders. “This is getting out of hand.”
He laughs. “You teased me for days and I couldn’t touch you.”
“No, you wouldn’t touch me.”
“The law said I couldn’t.” And then he gives the nod to a door near the entrance and brushes his lips over the shell of my ear. “I wanna show you something.”
“Where?”
He tips his head, his brow scrunching. “Downstairs.”
I nod and he takes my hand. Downstairs could potentially mean a lot of things. But sadly, it’s actually downstairs. Like in the basement.
Please let there be a bed down there.
When a rider makes an eight-second ride and is not disqualified, he has made a qualified ride and, therefore, earns a score.
In the basement of the bar is a private room with a mechanical bull centered on mats and another bar with about twenty people. It seems private, as if only the selected few are allowed down here. With low lighting, the walls are black, and neon beer signs line the walls of the secluded room.
It’s clear within minutes that Grayer is definitely one of those “selected few” and nods and tips of hats follow his entrance. He’s given a beer, and one for me too, which he twists the top off and hands me, keeping his left hand in mine. Like taking his hands off me is just not possible.
“Do you know all these people?”
He looks around. “Mostly.” And then he draws in a long breath, a motion that exudes sexiness at all levels, and gestures with his hand to the room with the bull. “Ever been on a mechanical bull?”
I swallow, not sure if I heard him right. His cheeks are flushed, eyes glossy from the alcohol. “No. Is it like Hammer?”
Grayer snorts, his frustration for my stunt still evident. “No. Not at all.” He nods to the mats. “It’s set for slow.” And then he gives my backside a light smack. “Show me whatcha got, honey.”
Show him? Is he serious? By the expression on his face, I know exactly what that means. He wants a show and I’m hell-bent on giving him one.
We walk over to the mechanical bull and I place my hand on the cool metal. “You yelled at me the last time I was on a bull,” I remind him, smiling.
He shrugs and places his hand over mine. His left hand rises to my jaw, splaying to cup my cheek. “That’s totally different. This time I’m in control.”
I blink. Stunned. Notice the meaning he puts behind the words? I do. “You’re in control,” I repeat, letting him know I know why he wants this. I follow his stare to the controls. With him behind the controls of the mechanical bull, he can do just about anything he wants to me. My cheeks heat as I inhale the scent of him, all man, all mine for now. He could have any woman in this bar, yet here he is, wanting me.
He glances at my mouth, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. When he speaks, the words pushed out breathlessly, I can tell he desperately wants to kiss me. His gaze is too intense, his dark eyebrows rising in question. “Ya gonna do it or what?”
I break eye contact, staring at the bull. “I’ll do it.” When have I ever said no to trying something new? Well, it’s not entirely new. I did ride a real bull. Surely with Grayer behind the controls he’d be gentler than a real bull. But then again, this is Grayer and he’s certainly not gentle.
Grayer smiles, winking, as he exhales through perfectly parted lips. “Hang on.”
It’s not easy to get on there, but Grayer gives me a hand onto the bull, lifting me easily by my waist. Then music starts in the basement. Maybe planned, I’m not sure, but it gives me that little push I need to do this. Somehow having music with anything can give you motivation. Adrenaline shoots through my extremities.
“I’m the Only One” by Melissa Etheridge starts out with the distinctive twang of the guitar and then moves into the bass and lyrics.
Confidently, I take hold of my hat and shift my hips forward on the bull, while Grayer sits in a chair with a clear view of me and a beer in hand. I’m curious what he’s thinking. So curious I want to ask, beg him to tell me what he wants to see. I mean, he suggested this. Obviously he’s looking for something, right?
My nerves peak with my racing heart, my hands trembling slightly but the fear subsides with each breath I draw in, waiting for him to hit the button.
Taking a look around, I notice I have an audience, men who are clearly with women, but sneaking stolen glances in my direction as I sit on the mechanical bull.
“Ready?” Grayer asks, his voice raised so I can hear him over the music, his hand on the button.
I give the same nod he does when he’s in the chute.
He hides his grin by lowering his head. His jaw tightens and he brings his beer to his lips, his face villainous. Taking a slow drink, he pulls the bottle away from his lips, he’s laughing lightly, and then presses the button with his other hand. Leaning further back in the chair, he shifts his hips so his legs are out in front of him, one bent as he slouches to the right near the button. Appearing cool, calm, and completely unlike me.
Raising my right arm in the air and keeping my left one on the metal saddle, I make sure my hat’s on my head properly when the bull starts to move beneath me. It’s definitely not like being on Hammer, but with slow, steady rocking motions, I see how watching this could easily turn a guy on.
With a heavy sigh, my breath expels and I rock with the bull, rolling my hips in a way to get Grayer’s attention, make him see I’ve got skills he hasn’t seen yet. Each movement is not only in tune with the bull, but the beat of the song playing. Maybe he set the speed like that on purpose.
I do know one thing for sure. Grayer has complete control over the bull beneath me by that button and the handle his right hand is on and I think that excites him a little. He’s controlling me in a way I’ve never experienced, giving me a thrill only he can.
I want to do more than tease him. I want to torture. I want him to know what it was like for me back in Ellensburg when he wouldn’t even look in my direction. The want, the desire, it can’t be tamed unless you’re allowed to touch. And I want him to experience the frustration I had on the way here. The anticipation of not knowing what would happen once we met again.
When the bull’s on the downward motion, I squeeze my legs together to keep from slipping off.
My hat falls to the ground with it and then I arch my back into the rocking. Whistles and catcalls move throughout the room and I’m doing everything I can to turn Grayer on, including spinning around on the bull and rocking to the movements backward.
By the way he sits in the corner, slouched in the chair, I know he’s turned on. I can see it in the way his eyes are set, his jaw flexing and the way he tenses when the whistles around him get to him. I can see his chest rising and falling faster and faster, struggling to stay seated during this when he realizes what these men are seeing.
Beyond the fisting of his hands and the tightened jaw, there’s a condescending smirk tugging at his lips. Like if any guy made a move to do more than whistle and watch, that smirk is telling them it wouldn’t be a good idea. He watches the crowd, eyebrows rising to one whistling and clapping a little more than others and making suggestive moves. I recognize him as one of the other bull riders. When he knows Grayer’s looking at him, he catches Grayer’s stare and backs up, dropping his eyes as he retreats.
Grayer’s eyes drift back to mine and their intensity is like a heat lamp inches from my skin. I do my best to pretend this is the way I’m going to fuck him later tonight. Giving him an idea of the way I desire him.
I’m panting when the song slows and I grind my hips into the saddle. Grayer’s glower never wavers. Never breaks.
Biting down on my bottom lip, I let my free hand move up my body, over my breasts and to my hair and then throw my head back, arching my back. I think about putting my finger in my mouth, but decide not to. Wouldn’t want to appear too desperate.
When the song ends, the crowd cheers and I’m not sure what to make of it. Grayer slams his hand down on the button and the machine comes to an abrupt halt. He gives that nod to the ones watching, a silent demand for them to leave.
And they do without question.
It’s clear he’s feared by many. Maybe they know him, maybe they don’t, but they certainly don’t question him.
He rights his position in the chair, sitting forward. When the basement’s empty, I motion to him with a finger, hoping he comes closer.