Page 97 of Kentucky Nights
There’s a larger crowd congregating around the mechanical bull. It’s in the middle of a wooden fenced-in area with big fluffy red mats on the ground, so the riders are protected when they fall off.
The bull itself seems huge. It has horns pointing forward and a silver ring hanging from its fake nose.
“Kentucky.” I tug on his belt loop, keeping my finger curled into it so I don’t get lost in the crowd. “Can we go over there?”
“Anything my mate wants, she gets. Come on, Darlin’.” He takes charge, stepping in front of me to lead the way.
The crowd parts for him naturally, as if their instincts are screaming that there is a predator near. Men and women alike crane their heads back to look up at Kentucky, eyes widening when they see how tall he is.
Even though I’m holding onto him by his belt loop, he reaches behind to lace his fingers with my other hand.
The ceiling, the floor, the bar, everything is made of wood. Even the chairs are old and antique. A few of the legs have duct tape wrapped around the center to keep the pieces together. Can they not replace them? That seems like a hazard.
Kentucky pulls out a chair for me when we get to a table. A chair without duct tape.
This place is rough around the edges, but I love it already. There’s an authenticity to it that not many other places have.
“Why, thank you. What a gentleman.” I sit down, watching a guy jump onto the mechanical bull.
“Let’s see if he can make it eight seconds, everybody!” The operator shouts into the mic so others can hear over the loud country music playing for the line dancers.
The crowd surrounding the bull begins to cheer, lifting their drinks in the air. Beer spills over the rims of their glass pints, splashing onto their arms and the floor. No wonder this place smells of beer.
When the operator flips the switch on the bull, its eyes glow red and fog drifts from its nose, clouding the rider in a faint sheet.
“What do you want to drink, Darlin’?” Kentucky has to raise his voice so I can hear him over the chaos of the bar.
“I’ll take a Coke.” I don’t need to shout or yell. I know Kentucky can hear me with his advanced hearing.
Kentucky snags my chair, yanking me closer to him. Our chairs touch, and he wraps his arm around the back. Leaning in, he draws gentle circles in the middle of my upper arm and whispers, “If you want something sweet, I’ve got something for you to suck on.”
“Kentucky,” I scold him playfully.
We’re interrupted by the waitress, and Kentucky snarls under his breath. “Hi, welcome to Rodeo’s Way. I’m Patsie. I’ll be your server this evening,” she shouts, clicking the top of her pen.
“One sweet tea and a Coke, please,” Kentucky answers by lifting two fingers. “And a blooming onion with steak sauce. A lot of steak sauce.”
“Coming right up!”
“A blooming onion with steak sauce?” I scrunch my nose at how unappetizing that sounds.
“You have to try it. It’s so good. I can’t remember when I first had it. It was years ago, and it blew my mind. Please try it. For me. So we can enjoy my second favorite food.”
“Second?”
“First place goes to you, Darlin’. Ain’t nothin’ that will ever taste better than you.”
Heat pools between my legs, wishing we were anywhere but here so he can eat in private.
The cowboy on the mechanical bull gets flung off and lands on the mats. He lifts his arms into the sky, cheering to celebrate that he made it the full eight seconds. Someone hands him a drink, and he downs it in one gulp. Crunching the cup in his grasp, he throws it across the room.
“I want to do that so bad.” I plop my elbow on the table and hold my chin in my hand.
I’m jealous of the next person who hops on the bull. I won’t be able to ride it since I’m pregnant.
“We can do it together.” Kentucky inhales my scent as he buries his nose into my neck. “I can tell the operator to go very slow, so my girls are okay.” His hand flattens against my lower belly, causing my insides to melt with how sweet and thoughtful he is.
“We don’t know if it’s a girl.” I lean into him, needing to be closer. I want to feel him on every inch of my body. I’ve never felt so protected.
