Page 154 of Boots, Bucket Lists & Bad Ideas
That one earns a genuine laugh from him. “Alright then. Guess I’d better keep up.”
“She’s not coming home with us,” I whisper to Nat.
“She will, after a quick session in the bathroom.”
I make a face. “The bathroom?”
“Don’t make a face. We’ll be lucky if she doesn’t go crawl on his lap and bounce him right there in front of all of us.”
My head snaps to my usually shy and quiet sister. “Maybe you have read one too many of those books.”
Natalie shakes her head. “Nah, I’ve just been to a bar or two with Josie.”
That’s where she gets me. Two bars in one week is more than I’ve frequented in years.
The bull kicks into a new rhythm, jerking and spinning harder. And God bless my sister, but she’s terrible at riding.
The bull kicks once, not even full speed, and she yelps like it bit her. Her legs flail, her arms are too stiff, and she’s gripping the saddle for dear life.
“She’s riding it like she’s afraid of breaking it,” I say. “Or it breaking her.”
The bull shifts again, and Josie somehow manages to swing forward and backward simultaneously.
She throws her head back and tries to shout, “This feels like a Saturday night with the right kind of guy!” But the bull bucks mid-sentence snapping her words into stutters.
The bar erupts around us, laughter bouncing off the wood-panelled walls.
“Takes a little while to warm up.” She grips the handle with white knuckles. “But once it gets going? Damn!”
“You’re not riding that thing.” Bronx folds his arms over his front and leans back. “You’re getting bullied by it.”
“I’m tryin’.” Her voice wobbles with her whole body. “But this bull’s got worse rhythm than my last fuck—”
The bull jerks hard to the left, and she nearly flies off sideways.
“Oh shit. She’s going down.” Daisy’s eyebrows draw together like she’s watching a rodeo wreck.
But somehow, by sheer willpower or spite, Josie stays on.
Barely.
Legs kicking.
Hair flying.
Laughing her damn head off, right up until it bucks one last time and she face-plants into the mat with a thud that makes the whole bar go quiet for a second.
I grab the railing. “Josie? You alright?”
Her face buries into the padding. Then, from some miracle, she pushes to her feet, brushing herself off with dramatic flair.
“I think I saw God. And I think He winked at me.”
The girls lose it.
Completely.
The operator’s voice cuts through the microphone almost instantly, teasing but not cruel.
