Chapter 26 God Winked at Me
JADE
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THE MUSIC PULSES low in my ribs, thick with bass and bourbon heat.
I feel light.
For the first time in years—really light. No weight of what-if or what-was or what-could-be.
Just me, moving to the beat, letting it take my body the way I used to wish he would—fully and unafraid.
Then I felt it.
That stare.
The heavy one—the one that used to undo me.
I didn’t have to look to know. I did anyway.
And there he was, across the bar, one arm resting on the edge of the table in front of the mechanical bull, his drink untouched, and his eyes pinned on me like I’m something holy and forbidden all at once, watching something he’d lost, but never expected to miss.
Dark. Wanting. Ache behind the jaw.
And once upon a time, that stare would’ve cracked me wide open. I would’ve stopped dancing, walked to him, and let him pull me back into the mess.
But not tonight.
Tonight, I smile, not at him, but to myself, and close my eyes, letting the music take me deeper.
Not to tempt him.
Not to punish him.
Just because I finally can.
We dance for what feels like hours before we line up beside the railing bordering the mechanical bull.
Josie slaps her hands on her hips, sizing up her next conquest.
“This thing better put up a fight. I’m not here for no weak-ass buck,” she says.
“Hell, yeah.” Hannah tilts her head from side to side, as if she’s about to step into a wrestling match.
“She’s such a lightweight,” Natalie whispers to me. “She’s drunk enough to marry the bull if it moves right.”
“We need to start controlling her drinks,” I add.
“I can hear you both.”
My sister and I share a look and laugh.
“I’m tipsy, at best.” Hannah tries to speak clearly, but her words come out slurred.
I don’t go out drinking with my sisters often, but I’m pretty sure Hannah doesn’t either.
“I’ll make this bull beg to throw me off.” Josie sets her cell phone on the table behind us, where the guys are threading their way toward.
“That’s right.” Hannah adjusts her blouse. “You show it how a real cowgirl handles a wild one.”
“This is either going to be sexy or tragic.” Ceil knocks back the rest of her whiskey shot. “Y’all remember the last time she rode the bull at the lodge, right?”
“No.” Harper props her boot on the bottom rail and leans her hip on it, facing us.
“Exactly.” Celi twirls her empty glass in her hand.
“She was knocked off and never got back on.”
“I think she was eight,” I add.
“Before my time.” Harper waves at Dean, who’s threading through the crowds with Levi.
“Hey.” Josie snaps her fingers. “I’ve learned how to hold on real tight since then.” Seduction laces her voice.
I cock an eyebrow.
“I’ve had a lot more between my thighs.” She winks.
“Thighs built for riding.” Hannah raises her hands for a double high-five, and Josie slaps her palms with a grin. “I’m next.”
I shake my head. “Sweetie, you can’t get on the bull. You’re drunk.”
“I’m not drunk.”
“Do you want to have sex with Wyatt?” I ask, loud enough to ride over the bar’s roar and each other, but not loud enough for the guys to hear.
Hannah glances at Wyatt, who nods our direction as he takes a seat at the table behind us. She waves at him with intention in her gaze.
I pull her hand down. “Alright. Don’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“You’ll regret it in the morning.” I turn to the tables behind us.
I don’t even have to ask, and Hart is sliding a pitcher of water toward me, as if he can read my mind.
Typically, the action would flare anger in me, but tonight, I’m confused.
Confused by the kind gesture.
More confused by this new look in his eyes, and whether I want to know what it means or not.
“Thanks.” I fill a glass and hand it to Hannah. “What happened to hydrating? What have you had? Like one drink?”
Josie snorts. “The first step is admitting you want to sleep with him. The second is mounting that bull. Then mounting Wyatt.”
Hannah pushes away the water. “See? Josie knows.”
“Josie doesn’t know.” I clasp her hands around the drink. “Finish this.”
She pouts.
Josie snorts.
I slap her. “Stop encouraging her. You’re supposed to be taking care of her, remember?”
Josie rolls her eyes. “Please, Wyatt would never touch her drunk, but at least he’d have confirmation she likes him. All she does is push him away.”
It’s a good thing we are angled away from the guys.
“Yeah, all I do is push him away.” Hannah spills her drink on my boots.
“Seriously?”
“Oh shoot.” She hiccups. “I think I’m drunk.”
I shake my boot to rid it of the water. “No shit.”
We all laugh.
“Do we have a brave one here?” The operator’s voice crackles through a microphone from the raised booth. “You there?” His gaze zeroes in on Josie.
He points at her with a grin, and Josie switches to flirt mode.
“You ready to show the bull who’s boss?” There’s a hint of a wink in his playful voice.
“I don’t ‘show’ who’s boss,” she calls up to him, her tone flirty. “I just am the boss.”
A couple of people in the crowd whistle.
The operator leans back in his seat, looking like he wasn’t expecting her comeback. “Alright then.” He raises an eyebrow. “Got yourself a little attitude to go with that confidence, huh?”
“Confidence is an attitude.” Josie slips off her boots. “It’s knowing exactly what I bring to the table —and what I can walk away from.”
He lets out a low whistle. “Okay, okay. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you. This bull’s a little wild today.”
She grins. “Let it be. I didn’t come for easy rides.”
“Watch yourself, kid. The man said the bull’s a little wild.” Bronx straddles his chair with his arms folded on the round pub table.
Josie leans her arms across from him. “If you weren’t so old, then I wouldn’t be considered a kid to you.”
“Ouch.” Dean points at his brother. “He’s the same age as Hart.”
Josie shrugs, making her way to the mechanical bull.
“Go Josie!” Harper swats her with her hat as she struts to the platform.
Josie runs her hands over the side of the bull. “Hey there, Daddy. I’ve been waiting all night for this.”
“Nooo!” Harper cups her mouth so the word echoes. “Don’t call him daddy.”
“No foreplay from the kid!” Bronx shouts.
“Is foreplay too much to expect from a Bunkhouse Boy?” Josie swings one leg over the bull, settling into the seat.
“Oh, I know foreplay.” I can hear Bronx puffing out his chest without even looking at him.
“Sure you do, Daddy. But do you know what to do with it?” She blows Bronx a kiss.
I glance back, grinning only to find, for the first time, Bronx looks uncomfortable. I also notice Hart sitting at the edge of the group, saying nothing, drink in hand, and a storm behind his eyes.
“Daddy.” Dean snorts. “Dude, I told you letting your grey hair show would age you.”
“Shut the hell up.” Bronx punches him. “Girls dig my grey patches.”
Wyatt snorts into his drink. “They’re supposed to dig them, not assume you’re about to read them a bedtime story and pay their tuition.”
Dean and Wyatt high-five, bursting into loud, barking laughter.
He flips both guys off. “Jealousy’s ugly on both of you.”
The bull shifts under Josie. She adjusts with effortless control.
From his booth, the operator watches her, fingers dancing over the controls. “You sure you don’t want me to go easy on you?”
Josie meets his eyes dead-on. “Don’t flatter yourself,” she says, cool as ever. “I’m not here for training wheels.”
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.
“And just like that, the bull wins round one.”
Josie dusts off her pants. “I just wanted to give the bull some confidence back.”
The operator chuckles through the speaker.
“But that wasn’t my final performance,” she adds.