Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
TATE
“Ready to line dance with me tonight, babe?” Daija asks, adjusting her pink plaid top that’s tied at her chest. She paired it with cut-off jean shorts and bedazzled cowboy boots.
“Girl, you know it.”
We spent all day decorating Stick Shift to look like an upscale barn, including the star of the show, an actual mechanical bull. I’m excited, to say the least.
“Are you riding the bull?” I ask with a smirk.
“Absolutely not,” she chuckles, admiring her new set of cowboy-themed nails. “Do I even need to ask if you are?”
“You know me too well, sweets. I can’t pass up the chance to show these boys how good I can ride.”
Tater tot!” Daija admonishes.
I laugh maniacally, getting up from the edge of her bed and heading for the door.
I’m wearing leather chaps with a tiny pair of shorts underneath, and a bolo around my neck.
I’m feeling sexy, horny, and ready to put on a good show tonight.
I haven’t seen Spencer since we had a picture-perfect lunch Monday afternoon, followed by a good pounding that evening.
It was the best Monday I’ve had in a while, and I had to fight the urge to ask him for a repeat the next day.
Because that would be too much, right? Like, completely outside the rules of our arrangement.
I’m hoping he’ll take me home tonight because, dare I say, I miss him.
“Ride’s here!” Daija hollers, grabbing her tiny crossbody bag and stuffing her phone inside.
My cowboy boots are by the door, so I slip them on, making sure I have my phone tucked into the pocket of my chaps. I slip my apartment key off my keychain, locking up and sticking it in my other pocket.
It doesn’t take long to get back to Stick Shift, and since it’s early, there’s no line or crowd.
We thank our driver and hop out, seeing Jonathan, one of the older guys, at the door.
We’ve gotten to know him this summer, and I can tell you with certainty that he’s not as scary as he appears. More like a big teddy bear.
“Johnny boy!” I call out as Daija and I walk over. I give him double finger guns, and I’d say this is probably the only time it’s socially acceptable to do so. “Put ’em up, partner.”
“Boo, you are so cringe right now,” Daija says, shaking her head.
Jonathan and I both tip our heads back, laughing loudly.
“How are you two troublemakers doin’ tonight?” he asks kindly.
“You’re the one dressed like you just robbed a bank,” I retort, pointing out the fact that he’s wearing a black and white striped jumpsuit.
“Touché,” he chuckles, the wrinkles around his eyes letting me know he enjoys our little exchanges. “Be safe tonight and let me know if you have any problems.”
“Thanks, Jonathan,” we say in unison, and I swear the old teddy bear’s face lights right up.
Daija and I walk into the bar arm in arm, looking around and admiring our handiwork. “Looks like another success,” I murmur with a big grin.
“Don’t jinx us,” Daija says. “But yeah, it looks so amazing.”
String lights are draped across the ceiling in artful loops, creating a golden ambience.
Hay bales are stacked in every corner, and the VIP section is filled with flickering, battery-powered lanterns and red and white checkered tablecloths.
Part of the dance floor has been converted to the mechanical bull area and blocked off with more hay bales as seating.
“There’s my star employees!” Sharon hollers behind us.
We spin around to face our smiling boss. “Hey, Sharon,” we reply politely.
“You guys knocked it out of the park once again. Stick Shift said they’ll continue to be a repeat customer as long as you two are in charge.”
“Wow, that’s so nice to hear,” Daija says with a big smile.
“Yeah, I’m honestly flattered and so happy that they’re happy,” I add.
It’s a dream come true to be a desired name in the event planning industry.
“I’d like to give both of you a raise and a promotion to Senior Event Planner, starting immediately. As in tonight. That’s a twenty-percent raise, as long as you promise to stay part-time through school, and full-time again next summer after graduation. We can re-negotiate in one year’s time.”
Daija and I turn to each other with cheshire grins.
“I’m offering you a job,” Sharon adds, summing it up and looking at each of us in turn.
We definitely have dreams of starting our own business together, but in the meantime, I think more experience and a steady income is an opportunity we shouldn’t pass up. I can definitely lock myself into a year with Epic Events.
“I accept,” I say with a huge smile.
“Me too. I’m honored and beyond excited for the next year.” Daija claps her hands together, tap dancing in place.
“Great! I’ll have the attorney draw up a contract. I’m excited to have you both officially on board.”
Sharon walks away, disappearing into the back offices, and I nearly squeal in my excitement.
“Shh. Shh,” Daija laughs, shushing me. “Keep it mature, boo. You’re a Senior Event Planner now . . . Ahh!” she squeals, and I shake my head, looking around to admire the setup again.
“We really did kick this party’s ass,” I murmur before the party has truly started.
“Sure did, babe,” Daija echoes with a quiet sigh.
And for some reason, I can’t wait for Spencer to see it. I can’t wait to tell him about my promotion, and I can’t wait to hear the pride in his voice when he tells me how good I did.
“I really am so fucking proud of you, Tate,” Spencer says earnestly for the twentieth time tonight. “You’re incredible.” He nuzzles my neck, breathing me in.
“Spence,” I warn, ready to crawl onto his lap and ride him like the mechanical bull in the corner.
We’ve become more open and more public about our arrangement. Not a relationship. It’s a slippery slope, I know this, but neither of us can stop. I’m not ready to give him up. Not yet. But I’m also not ready to have a boyfriend again. If ever. I’m much happier just fucking.
I scoot out of the booth, and Spencer’s dark eyes follow my every move, so I glance around to make sure I have everyone else’s attention.
“Time to ride!” I holler, waving my arm like a lasso with a horribly embellished Southern accent worse than my Uncle Calvin’s.
“Yee-haw!” Jake shouts like some sort of surfer-cowboy. “I’m in!”
“Yeah . . . We’ll cheer you guys on,” Daija laughs, looking over to her friend for reassurance.
Kaylee nods in agreement. “I am most definitely not riding that.”
“I’ll come with you,” Spencer says, standing up with everyone else.
We all head over to the mechanical bull, waiting behind the roped-off, inflatable wall.
“Jake, you go first,” I insist, hovering close to Spencer. I need to see what happens to him before I make a decision.
“You sure?” Jake asks, glancing around in excitement. He’s not scared at all, so he’s definitely the perfect guinea pig for this.
Everyone nods, so Jake slips his plaid shirt off, climbing into the inflated arena with a bare chest and his well-worn Levi’s.
“Oh yes, daddy! Show us how you move those hips!” a big bear calls from the front row, and I can’t help but snicker.
Jake looks flabbergasted and actually speechless for once.
“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” the man teases, making the crowd laugh and making Jake blush.
“Ignore him, Jake,” I whisper encouragingly, leaning over the wall and attempting to coach him. “Just move your hips with the bull, and hold on tight.”
Jake starts off strong, his dirty blond hair flopping with every thrust of the bull, but he gets thrown off after five seconds. The crowd boos him, and then suddenly it’s my turn.
I follow my own advice and rock with the bull, bouncing on its back like a pro bull rider. Eight seconds come and go, and soon the entire crowd is cheering me on, gaining the attention of DJ Mac.
“Oh! Oh! What’s happening over here?” he shouts, turning the music down.
I ignore him, concentrating on moving my hips and squeezing my thighs instead.
“Look at that cowboy go! I think we might have our new champion of the night!” DJ Mac shouts, and I make the mistake of looking up at him instead of focusing on my grip.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of thick auburn hair and colorful tattoos near the front of the stage.
My heart skips a beat, and I lose focus, getting roughly thrown from the bull.
I fly off, slamming into the thick, inflatable wall before bouncing off and rolling over onto my back.
My lungs are frozen, the wind thoroughly knocked out of me.
“Whoa! Ouch!” DJ Mac shouts. “That doesn’t look like it felt too good, but I think we have our champion! Twenty-two seconds is the newest time to beat!”
Spencer rushes over, jumping the barrier like he’s a track star and helping me sit up slowly. “Are you okay?” he asks with deep concern while his hands and eyes roam my body.
“I-I think so,” I answer hesitantly, allowing him to help me stand up on the wobbly, inflatable floor. “Get me out of here,” I nearly beg.
Spencer lifts me up bridal-style, helping me swing my legs over the thick wall.
I hop down to the ground, and he jumps over after me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and steering me toward the bar.
But I stop for a second, turning in his arms and glancing back at the stage again. I need to know.
“What is it?” Spencer demands, his voice thick with worry. “What’s wrong?”
I keep searching, hoping it’s not who my brain keeps telling me it is.
Caleb. My ex.
He transferred out of CBU my freshman year, and I hope he never comes back. He used me, got what he wanted, and dumped me without a second thought. He was my first and only boyfriend, and I was in love. Or so I thought. Yet to him, I was nothing more than his little fucktoy to use and discard.
I finally spot the man I mistakenly thought was Caleb, and I realize it’s not him. Thank fucking God. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I have no idea why my brain is playing tricks on me like this.
“You okay?” Spencer asks again, a protective hand hovering over the small of my back and making goosebumps erupt there.
“Yeah. Just thought I saw someone I used to know,” I say without thinking.
“Who? ’Cause you look fucking scared, princess,” Spencer growls.
My sharp gaze snaps to him, eyebrows furrowing. “What? I do not.” I sound defensive, and I know it.
“Who do you think you saw?” he asks again. “Because it was enough to throw you off the mechanical bull.”
I huff, rolling my eyes and crossing my arms. “No one. Geez. Is twenty-two seconds on the bull not good enough for you? ’Cause everyone else seems to think I’m the champion.”
“Tate . . .”
“It’s nothing. Just drop it. Okay?” I snap, feeling slightly cornered. I’m not ready to talk about my ex, and I certainly don’t owe him an explanation, either. It’s not like we’re in a freaking relationship. Because I would never be in one of those again. Ever.
Spencer doesn’t look convinced, but he gives me a small nod, ushering me over to the bar. “Sit. Please,” he insists, pulling out the barstool for me.
“Oh my God, babe! Are you okay?” Daija cries, rushing over with Kaylee to hug me carefully.
“Yeah, but I could use a drink,” I say, grimacing when I twist in my seat. “Or three.” I glance at Spencer, unable to miss the suspicion and concern on his face. “I’m fine,” I insist, calling Charlene over.
“Rough landing, sweetness. First one’s on me.”
“You’re a doll.” I smile at her, tilting my head and batting my eyelashes excessively. “I’ll take two more.”
Charlene huffs out a laugh. “Alright. I’ll say you’ve earned it, but I’m cutting you off for an hour after this.
“Fair enough. I’ll set a timer,” I retort.
“You little smarty-pants,” she chuckles, shaking her head and leaving to make my lemon drops.
A warm presence blankets my back, and soft lips tickle me as Spencer whispers into my ear. “If you’re too drunk, I won’t fuck you. Keep that in mind,” Spencer warns, sending a chill down my spine and making me shiver.
“Ugh. Fine,” I huff. When Char comes out with the shots, I hand one to each of my girls, and we clank them together and shoot them back. I glance over at Spencer with a triumphant smirk. “Not drunk. Not even tipsy. Now take me home.”