Page 118 of Reckless
He said he wanted to show me off. That’s how. And I fell for it. Hook, line, and sinker.
“Winter.”
“It’s a country bar. I don’t know how to”—I point at the busy dance floor—“whatever that is. Do you?”
“Two-step?”
“Yeah. You don’t even seem that country to me.”
His face scrunches up. “I grew up on a ranch. I ride bulls for a living. What more do you want from me?”
“I don’t know. You’ve always got combat boots and a tight T-shirt on. And flannel or whatever. Where are the Wranglers? Where is the cowboy hat?”
“That’s my uniform at work. Part of the sport. I don’t have to dress that way all the time. Should I pick up a twangy Texas accent and start keeping a piece of hay between my teeth? Should I learn to play the banjo?”
I shudder. “No. Please don’t. That kid fromDeliverancereally ruined the instrument for me.”
He shoves his hand out at me. “Let’s go.”
He’s already dragging me toward the crowd of people. I know our friends are here too, because they just “happened” to be at the bar when we came after dinner. Summer, Willa, Sloane. All the boys. Apparently, Mondays are the new Friday.
“Okay, fine.One dance. But only because you refused to let me pay for dinner.”
He scoffs, flipping me to face him. One hand lands at my waist and the other gently grips my fingers. He’s so effortless. So soothing.
“Hold up. I paid for dinner so you’d have sex with me later.”
So ridiculous that he makes me laugh.
So fucking charming that we stay for more than one dance. We stay until I’m breathless and giddy, and my hair feels damp at the nape of my neck.
He pinned me, he dipped me, he kissed me. He showed me off.
I’ve never felt as cherished as I do in the middle of a busy dance floor surrounded by people I don’t know with Theo’s hands all over me.
I’ve also never felt so horny, because Theo candance. His skills on the dance floor are so impressive they make me seem like I can dance too.
“Where did you learn to dance like this?”
He smiles, a faraway look in his eyes. “My parents. They were always dancing. My dad was a great dancer.”
“Yeah? You don’t talk about him much.”
He pulls me closer. “He died riding bulls. I still plan to win a championship like he did—that’s my goal. But I think if I let myself talk about him too much, I’ll start wondering what the fuck I’m doing getting on a bull who wants to kill me dozens of times every year.”
I suspect it’s more layered than that. I suspect Theo has his own set of daddy issues, has markers to hit to feel worthy of his father’s legacy. Because based on all the internet research I did after I found out about the pregnancy, his dad was one of the best. A legend. One of the first Brazilian riders to really make a mark on the North American circuit.
“Is he why you became a bull rider?”
“Yeah. I was like his shadow. I always wanted to do everything he did.”
“How close are you to making it to the finals this year? After this time off, are you too far behind in points?”
His head tips down as he tries to get a good look at my face. “Tink, why does it sound like you know a thing or two about the WBRF?”
My lips curve up against his chest. “There may have been some Google research performed at one point or another.”
I feel the deep rumble in his chest. “So...internet stalking.”
