Chapter 19
The bar is crowded, and everyone in this small town seems to be out tonight.
Cowboy hats are in every direction. Music shakes the ground under my feet. To the right, someone flies off the mechanical bull and smacks onto the pads. To the left, people are line-dancing. Straight ahead, the bar is packed. Cowboys are buying drinks for their cowgirls.
Except for one.
Me, Oklahoma, and the rest of the crew watch as someone climbs into a machine that is at the end of the bar. Above it is a neon sign that says, “The Whirl of Death.”
“What is he doing?” I shout over the music, hoping Oklahoma can hear me.
“He will spin for about fifteen to twenty seconds at a high rate. When he comes out, he has to chug an entire beer without throwing up. If he does, he gets his picture on the wall and free beers for the rest of the night.”
“That’s it!” I can’t believe someone would put themselves through that for a picture on the wall.
“That’s it. He won’t make it though. I can tell.” Oklahoma grabs me by the belt loop and tugs me in front of him, then wraps his arms around me.
I love that he likes having me so close.
“I can tell because he is already drunk. He is going to pass out when his fifteen seconds are up.”
“That looks like a terrible idea,” Ruka says.
“I want to do it! I’m next! Excuse me.” Jazz pushes his way through the crowd to make his way to the bar.
“That’s not fair. That’s cheating. He has…secrets,” I whisper.
Oklahoma’s dark chuckle sounds in my ear, and I melt against him. He smells so good too. It’s as if I’m standing in the middle of a field after it has rained.
The bartender grabs a megaphone. “Come on, everyone! Give a hand for the next victim of “The Whirl of Death,” he announces as if he is a showman, his voice low and deep. The lights flicker on purpose. The crowd cheers. People stomp their feet and clap.
He climbs onto the machine that looks like it was made in someone’s basement.
There’s a backrest on the inside with a strap to protect whoever is inside and hold them down.
The tube reminds me of a ride at the fair.
The spaceship that spins in a circle and gravity keeps you plastered against the wall.
It’s like that, but much smaller and can only hold one person.
The bartender closes the door, and the man straps himself in with nothing to hold on to.
Oh, no, no, no.
No one could pay me to do that.
Fifteen seconds pass, and I’m dizzy watching him spin. The bartender opens the door and the volunteer stumbles to the left, then the right, smacks into the wall, and collapses on the floor.
The entire bar falls quiet before loud cheers sound.
“Reina and I are going to the mechanical bull. We will see you later,” Westin tells us.
My brows raise when I watch the pair walk away. Reina turns around and mouths, “Oh my god” to me.
“Dance with me?” Oklahoma asks, spinning me in his arms so he can see me.
“I can’t say no to that. Do you want to get a drink first?”
“You can’t drink, so I can’t drink. Do you want anything else?”
There he goes, making me swoon again. At this rate, it’s all I’ll be doing. I’ll have to retire from storm chasing.
“I’m okay for now. I’d love to dance.”
He takes my hand and tugs me behind him, staying close. He never leaves too much space between us.
The dance floor is huge, and it’s packed with people. To the sides are small tables where people can set their drinks. Half-empty pint glasses sit in dozens. The bartenders are too busy to clean up. A disco ball hangs from the top of the ceiling that isn’t being used.
Boot Scootin’ Boogie by Brooks and Dunn comes on, and everyone steals a space on the dance floor.
Oklahoma is to my left. Millie and Jess are to my right. We step right, our left foot coming from behind for another step, and then we step out again. We kick our left foot out onto the heel of our boots, and everyone in the room claps once at the same time.
I glance over at Oklahoma, whose eyes are on me.
They are always on me.
“Pay attention to the steps,” I shout at him over the music and loud stomping of boots.
“I know these steps like the back of my hand, Sugar. I’m looking right where I want to. I have the best view in the house.”
I’m not sure if he can see me given how low the lights are and how dark it is in here. He tilts his hat at me before stepping left, grape vining our legs, kicking our right foot out on our heels, then clapping again.
I’m smiling ear to ear, happiness overwhelming me as I watch Ruka trip over himself as he tries to keep up. He’s never been good at dancing, but he always tries.
“Shit. Sorry!” Ruka shouts when he rams into another guy’s back. “I have no idea what I’m doing!” My brother takes a drink of his beer and tries his best. He never quits.
We all needed this. We needed to have fun and remember there is more to life than work.
In four counts, we kick each foot out, then raise our hands above our heads and clap, then swivel our hips and legs.
Oklahoma runs into me, grinning like he meant to. He takes my hand and spins me around, then lets me go to fall back into step.
I lift my hair from my back, allowing the humid air to dry the sweat gathering between my shoulders. I dance, allowing myself to feel swarmed with happiness. I have everything I need in my life.
I’m complete.
There isn’t anything else I can think of wanting. Tonight is the perfect night.
The song ends, and Oklahoma sweeps me in his arms, spinning us in circles. I grab his cowboy hat and plop it on top of my head.
His eyes flash blood red, his nostrils flaring, the tips of his fangs glittering against the low lights.
“You better be real careful. I’m already on edge.
I’ll take you back in one of these disgusting bathrooms, pull your jeans down, and fuck you against the wall while someone is in the stall next to us.
I do not care where or when or how I take you—just know I will.
” He sets me down on my feet, my body sliding against his as he lowers me.
Every hard edge of him teases me.
Every. Hard. Edge.
“I’m going to go get us something to drink.” He kisses my cheek. “Stay right here with Millie, Jess, and Ruka. Don’t move.”
“I won’t go anywhere. Promise.” I stand on my tiptoes to give him a quick peck, and I can taste the saltiness of sweat on my lips. “I’ll settle for a soda.”
“I’ll be right back. Don’t move,” he warns again. “If you do, I’m going to spank your ass when I get home.”
Arousal tingles through my body, and Oklahoma jerks me closer to him by tugging on my belt loop.
I love it when he does that.
He growls. It’s low and throaty, his eyes shining as bright as rubies set on fire. “Don’t tempt me, Sugar.”
“What if tempting you is what I want to do?” I run my finger down his chest, doing my best to break his control around all these people.
Burn it to the Ground by Nickelback comes on, and everyone shouts in excitement, breaking the intense moment between us.
With a gentle shove from him, I’m in line again, finding the step they are on. I stumble a few times as I try to remember the line dance to this song, and I finally get it about halfway in.
“Ladies and Gentlemen. I have been made aware there is rodeo royalty in the house!” The bartender announces and rings the bell, the music stopping mid-step.
Oklahoma has two drinks in his hands, and his eyes are closed, clearly annoyed by being found out. He doesn’t talk about his rodeo days much, not after his partner Cal died.
If I’ve learned one thing about my mate, he doesn’t like attention when he doesn’t want it. He likes to lie low and mind his business.
I slither through the crowd. “Excuse me. Sorry, excuse me,” I say repeatedly, weaving my way towards Oklahoma.
My boots stick to the beer-ridden floor, and one guy tries to grab my arm to ask me to dance, but Oklahoma is there, towering over him, his eyes crimson with the promise of violence.
“Whoa.” The drunk man sways on his feet. “Cool contacts.” He raises his arms in surrender and backs away. “She’s yours. Got it.”
Oklahoma doesn’t take his eyes off the guy until he finally turns around and finds another woman to dance with.
“Everyone! Please give a warm welcome to one of our own, Oklahoma Richards! The man who holds five championship titles and dozens of records. No other cowboys have been able to break one of those records. If you want to see him on the bull, make some noise!”
Oklahoma stretches his neck to the right, then left, his hands tightening on the drinks he has in his hold. I take them from him before they shatter, setting them on a nearby table littered with empty bottles and glasses.
The entire place screams in excitement. People stomp their boots, heightening the pressure for Oklahoma to perform for them.
I know he doesn’t want to. He never wants to do anything rodeo-related again.
“Ok-la-homa. Ok-la-homa,” the crowd chants.
Ruka must see the discontent on Oklahoma’s face because he comes up and grips his shoulder—a sign of support. “Hey, you don’t have to do anything. We can leave right now. They will be bummed for all of two seconds before they forget all about you.”
“No, it’s okay,” my mate relents. “It’s fine. Old memories have to be laid to rest at some point, right?”
He’s right, but just because pain is finally at rest doesn’t mean it has to be relived. He takes my hand and leads me to the other room where the mechanical bull is, Ruka following behind me along with the others.
When we pass people, I watch in fascination as they peer up at Oklahoma.
They look at him like he is a celebrity, like they can’t believe they get to see him.
It hits me he is much more popular than he gives himself credit for.
He’s a big name in a small town, and people are going to want to see what he does best.
“Ruka, stay close to Nariko, please. Don’t leave her side in this crowd.”
Ruka wraps his arm around my shoulder, pulling me to his side. “I won’t. Promise.”