Chapter 15
What Belle called a theater is more like a small club that occasionally hosts comedians, bands, and community events.
I haven’t been to anything hosted there in ages, but I guess their marketing team has stepped up their game because the parking lot is completely full by the time we get there.
Belle hops out to check if there are even any tickets left for the show tonight, while I idle in the truck, conflicted whether I’m hoping they’re sold out or not.
I’d rather go a few rounds in the ring with Doodle than watch whatever random show is happening tonight, but I want to spend more time with Belle.
Dinner was good. More than good, really.
I respect the hell out of her offer to fund some renovations around the ranch, even if I don’t like her investing her limited funds into the endeavor.
I have to remind myself that Dawn was probably saving that money for similar things, but didn’t get around to it before her health declined.
Belle has a way of getting under my hide, making me hope for better things despite my best efforts to stay grounded in reality.
I need to be careful that I don’t let that hope turn into anything beyond the professional.
After spending the day with Belle, it’s clear she could quickly wear through not only my protectiveness toward the ranch but also the defenses I’ve set around my heart.
It took everything in me not to ask her what she’s interested in when we were discussing Antonia.
But what good would it do for me to know if Belle only likes human men, or if she’s ever thought about being with a minotaur?
And if I were to ask, I can’t think of anything that’d explain away my interest.
Belle gives me a big thumbs up after talking to an attendant by the door, her happiness infectious enough that I grin back.
I gesture for her to stay put while I find a place to park, since it’s silly to have her come with me just to walk back.
Especially since she’s walking like her feet are more blister than anything else.
Damn, that reminds me, I need to ask Marcie if she has any suggestions for blister care. There are definitely upsides to having hooves, though the maintenance can be a real pain.
After finding a parking spot around the block, I hurry back to the front of the club. On the way, a few people give me sidelong glances, and I tip my hat at them, trying not to let my discomfort show.
Guess these tourists aren’t used to seeing minotaurs. Though if that were the case, why would they be interested in an all-minotaur theater production?
Belle lights up when she sees me approaching and waves a pair of tickets. “They were almost sold out, but luckily one of the VIP tables had to cancel at the last minute, so they resold that to me at half price.”
I frown, wondering how much half price was. “You should’ve waited for me. I would’ve paid for it.”
“What? No. Absolutely not. If I’m dragging your ass to a show on a whim, then I’m paying. I’ll just skip getting so many groceries next time.”
“Belle.” I glare at her.
“I’m kidding! The tickets weren’t expensive, and it’s worth it to me.”
“You’re that invested in minotaur theater?” I ask drolly.
Belle chuckles. “Not really. But I’m sure I’ll enjoy it. The guy at the front said tonight’s show is ‘The Rodeo.’ Have you heard of it? I didn’t want to sound uncultured, so I just nodded and thanked him.”
There’s something about the name that rings a distant bell, but I can’t remember why. “Can’t say I know anything about it either. Don’t have much time for theater, what with the whole running a ranch thing.”
“Well, now that I’m here, I’ll make sure you make time.” Belle winks at me and places a hand on my arm like she’s going to guide me into the club, but pulls it back almost immediately with a wince. “Sorry, I don’t know why I keep touching you!” she says with a weird, breathy laugh.
“It’s fine.” More than fine.
A few more people unsubtly check me out as we weave our way through the dimly lit space crowded with tables, but I do my best to ignore them.
We settle in at our table, the space clearly allotted for two humans rather than a human and a minotaur, and I have to squeeze close, my thigh pressing against Belle’s, in order not to hang out into the makeshift aisle.
“This is cozy,” she says, giggling at my proximity.
Her cheeks are a little pink, but that most likely has to do with the warmth of a small room packed with bodies than our closeness.
I take my hat off and set it on the table, trying to reduce how much I’m blocking the sight lines for the people behind us, and Belle smiles at me, reaching up to brush a lock of hair out of my eyes.
I freeze, pulse hammering in my chest, and her eyes go wide.
“Shit, sorry! There I go touching you again, even though we’re not at that level of friendship yet.”
I wonder what level of friendship we’d need to be at for her to touch me other places, then silently chastise myself for those crude thoughts. “It’s alright. I don’t mind you touching me.” Oh god, that came out way too husky and suggestive. I clear my throat. “As a friend.”
Belle nods, the pink on her cheeks even brighter. “Oh, okay. Good! I tend to be a little touchy-feely, but I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
I shake my head. “Don’t worry about it. Dawn was the same way.”
She tilts her head a bit, curious. “She was? I remember her hugs were the best, but not much else stuck with me in that regard.”
“Yeah. She was an affectionate woman. Though she didn’t take shit from anyone, and if you pissed her off, watch out.”
Belle laughs at my feigned look of fear at the wrath of Dawn. “She sounds amazing.”
“She was.” I take in Belle’s auburn waves and sparkling green eyes, chest aching with a pang of grief for her grandma and a burgeoning attachment to the woman sitting next to me. “You’re a lot like her.”
Belle looks down at her hands, suddenly shy. “Thank you. I hope I can live up to her legacy.”
Before I can think better of it, I place a hand on her thigh, needing to reassure her. Belle lifts her gaze to meet mine, surprised. I smile as gently as I can. “You don’t need to live up to anything. No one here expects you to be Dawn.”
She smiles, but the expression is shaky. “That’s good to hear. I don’t think I can be anyone but myself.”
I open my mouth to tell her I like who she is, but the house lights flick on and off a few times, and the background music swells until I can feel the thumping beat of the bass in my bones.
The audience lets out an excited whoop at this development, and a moment later, the small stage in front of us fills with fog.
“What kind of rodeo has a fog machine?” I ask, raising my voice to be heard over the club music.
“Beats me. Maybe it’s an avant-garde thing?” Belle whisper-shouts back as the crowd cheers again when the music swells even louder.
I snort. “In Roan Ridge? I doubt it.”
“What?” Belle asks, brow furrowing as she turns to me, but I don’t respond because the song switches to a sensual, familiar one and a horned figure emerges onto the foggy stage.
I have only a second to give Belle a wide-eyed look as I realize where I’ve heard the show name before.
Oh god.
No.
This can’t be happening.
Belle sucks in a sharp breath as we turn toward the stage, and the room erupts into cheers as a minotaur in a fireman’s costume emerges from the smoke.
He gyrates to the music, running a hand up and down the front of his jacket to the lyrics, then rips it open to reveal his chiseled torso.
The Rodeo isn’t a theater production.
It’s an all-minotaur strip show.
I glance over to see Belle watching the dancer in horror, her face bright red. She turns to me, eyes wide. I can’t hear her, but I can read her lips as she shouts, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. Oh god.”
As I see it, I have two choices.
I can be as horrified as she is and storm out of the theater as soon as the first act is over. Which I really want to do, but that will undoubtedly sour our evening.
Or, I can be an adult, ignore my embarrassment, and make the best of things.
I lean over, bringing my mouth to her ear. “Uh oh, I think maybe a crowd this size violates the fire code.”
Belle lets out a startled bark of laughter, covering her mouth as the dancer undulates over to our corner of the stage.
“He’s going to need a big hose to put out whatever fire is causing all that smoke,” I continue, grinning when she smacks me on the arm, her chest heaving with laughter she’s trying to keep in as the minotaur winks in our direction and rips off his tear away pants.
Whoops of delight fill the room, and I can’t help but laugh as Belle watches the cow man’s pelvic thrusts, her expression relaxing from embarrassment to amusement.
When she lets out a tiny cheer as he turns and jiggles his gold spandex-covered ass at the audience, his tail whipping back and forth to smack each cheek, I grin.
Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.
Everything goes fine until the final routine.
Most of the acts are cheesy but harmless, and some of the dancing is pretty good.
The sight of musclebound minotaur dudes does nothing for me, but I’m secure enough in myself to relax and enjoy the show for what it is.
Especially when Belle starts to crack jokes back.
The crowd boos when the emcee says it’s the final number of the night, and Belle gives me a look that says, “Thank god.”
The music picks up into a country song I’ve heard a million times, and a trio of cow men stride out onto the stage in full cowboy regalia. The show is called The Rodeo, so I’m surprised that it took them until the end to do a cowboy act.
The routine is part line-dance, part gyrating, which is fine.
But then the music shifts, and they hop down off the stage into the audience.
The one with the messy flop of hair over his eyes and abs so defined they look like you could wash clothes on them makes a beeline for Belle, taking the cheap sequined cowboy hat off of his head and placing it on hers, and extending a hand to her with a charming smile.
He’s on the other side of the table, so I can only watch as Belle releases a nervous laugh, shaking her head. The cow man leans in and whispers something to her, and whatever it is convinces her to go with him.
A surge of jealousy pulses through me as he lifts her up by the hips and deposits her onto the stage, before hopping up beside her and hauling her against his chest. It only gets worse when his fellow dancers and their chosen audience members join them on the stage, and the too-handsome minotaur, who I doubt has ever worked on a ranch a day in his life, starts gyrating against Belle.
She’s laughing, cheeks pink with embarrassment as he does his routine.
When he slides down her body and guides her hands to his horns, her eyes go wide and she turns toward me like she’s looking for help.
There’s a pulse of something hot and hungry along with the jealousy as the dancer suggestively moves his face closer to her thighs, and my body can’t decide if I’m aroused or want to punch him.
Belle’s eyes stay locked on mine until the dancer rises again and tips her chin to make her focus on him, before lifting her up in a swift move where he places her legs on his shoulders.
She squeals and grabs onto his horns again, and the crowd cheers as the dancers manhandle their partners into a series of suggestive poses.
Belle is suddenly back on her feet, pressed so she’s bending forward as the cow man gyrates against her ass to the beat of the music, then back up with her legs around his waist as he does pelvic thrusts to the words “save a horse, ride a cowboy.”
I’m painfully hard and reeling by the time a flustered, blushing Belle is guided back to her seat.
The cow man takes his hat back and gives her another wink before hopping onto the stage to finish the dance.
The audience screams and there’s a sound of fabric tearing away, but I can’t focus on anything but Belle.
She smiles sheepishly as she brushes her tousled hair out of her face, not paying attention to the grand finale either.
The show ends, and I know I should say something, but I’m too busy willing the blood from my cock back to my brain. I hold my hat in front of my groin as we make our way out of the theater, and thankfully by the time we’re outside my erection has gone down enough that it shouldn’t be obvious.
The awkward silence continues as I lead Belle back to the truck.
When we get inside, she breaks the tension.
“I’m so, so, so sorry, Cal. I shouldn’t have gone up on the stage.
It was totally inappropriate. I didn’t want to be a stick in the mud, but if I’d known he was going to do… that, I would’ve said no.”
Her apology eases the tension in my chest, though she has nothing to apologize for. “You mean you wouldn’t have agreed to be dry-humped in front of your business partner and a screaming audience?” I ask drolly.
She shakes her head with a weak laugh. “No. Absolutely not.” She palms her face. “God, how mortifying.”
“Eh, it’s not any worse than shouting about cock after you crashed into the ranch sign.”
Belle removes her hand from her face and glares at me, but the look only lasts a moment before we both laugh. The tension bleeds from us, and I start the engine and get on the road.
“I had fun tonight.” She says softly after a few minutes. “Dry humping aside.”
I chuckle, trying to block out the image of her bent over, but it’s no use. It’s burned into my brain. “Me too. Though next time, maybe we’ll skip the strip show.”
Belle releases a feigned sigh. “Fine.”
If she wants to see another half-naked minotaur, she’ll have to settle for me. The thought rises unbidden, and I grip the wheel tighter, hoping she can’t tell I’m jealous of a damn stripper.