Chapter 35 Mac
35
MAC
The bar was packed. Wall-to-wall bodies, sweat and laughter clinging to the air like cheap perfume. In all my years working here, I’d never seen anything like it. Penny’s fundraiser wasn’t just a success it was making fucking history.
Leave it to Penny Hudson to pull off an event like this with barely any lead time.
She’d pitched the idea to me a few nights ago, in her kitchen. I’d tried to resist, but she had a way of making no sound like yes. One look from her—those big, stubborn eyes—and I was done for.
She ran it by her boss the next day, and the board jumped at the chance. They wanted it done fast, to take advantage of the tourist spillover from the neighboring cities’ rodeo season.
Penny handled every detail. I sat at her dining table one morning, coffee in hand, and watched her work her magic. She demolished every half-formed idea I offered with something sharper, smarter, better. Her brow was furrowed in concentration, tongue tucked between her lips as her fingers flew across the keyboard like lightning. I’d never been so turned on by logistics.
Now, here I was bartending her masterpiece.
I was damn good at my job. I’d slung drinks on the Vegas Strip, but nothing could’ve prepared me for the crowd crammed into the bar tonight. This small town had never seen action like this.
The mechanical bull was the main event, of course. Against my better judgment, I’d let her rent the damn thing. But I had to admit—it was genius. That, and the themed drink menu we came up with.
Penny even made sure Jolie, Dudley, and I had custom shirts for the night. Mine read Ride of Your Life. I’d snipped the sides clean off, exposing every inch of ink down my ribs and the sharp cut of my torso. Paired it with dark bootcut jeans, my well-worn cowboy boots, and a cigarette tucked behind one ear.
Somehow, she even roped in Logan, Boone, and Rhodes to help work the floor. Better yet, she had them walking around shirtless, cowboy hats on, passing out shots like they were straight out of a raunchy fantasy.
If one more woman tried to climb Boone like a tree, I wouldn’t be surprised if he made a sign that said, Happily Taken and She’s Over There and pointed it directly at Aspen.
Speaking of, Aspen, Theo, and Ellie were parked at the bar, laughing and drinking while the guys navigated the crowd like cattle through a gate.
Women were slipping dollar bills into the waistbands of their jeans as they passed, putting on a show.
Somehow, in all this madness, all I could think about was Penny.
Tonight, she had her hair down, her own cowboy hat tipped low as she moved through the bar with the kind of casual confidence that could kill a man. Her shirt—if you could even call it that—was cropped high enough to drive me insane, and her boots hit just below the knee, hugging her long, toned legs like a damn dream.
I was fucking putty.
Every step she took, every glance she tossed my way, every teasing wink. It was a slow, torturous game she was playing. And I was her willing victim.
“Some of these women are savages,” Rhodes muttered, stepping up to the service counter and dropping his tray like it had personally offended him.
The speakers pumped out a steady country beat that pulsed through the old wooden walls, vibrating beneath our boots.
I grabbed the red tip bucket from behind the bar and held it out toward Rhodes with a grin. “Come on, pay up. The library thanks you for your service.”
Rhodes sighed, reached into the waistband of his jeans, and pulled out a wad of cash. After dropping every last dollar into the bucket, he removed the cowboy hat he’d borrowed from Boone, swiping at the sweat on his brow before raking a hand through his damp hair, and slapping it back on.
“These ladies from the crochet club keep grabbing my ass,” Logan said, sliding in beside Rhodes and looking both exhausted and vaguely traumatized. “I can feel their little hands pinching me.”
I barked a laugh, and so did Rhodes.
Logan dropped a few more bills into the bucket with a shake of his head. “This better get Penny back on your side.”
“Yeah,” Rhodes added, smirking. “I still don’t know how the three of us got roped into your fuck-up.”
I had the best damn friends a man could ask for—something I maybe hadn’t always appreciated the way I should have. Watching them strut around this bar, getting harassed by women twice their age while flaunting their ranch-built bodies? Yeah, I was damn lucky.
“I’ll buy you all a round for your troubles,” I offered, smirking.
“Cheap bastard,” Logan muttered, resting his forearms on the bar.
I chuckled, tugged the cigarette from behind my ear, and turned to light it. A few quick drags, and I exhaled into the air, letting the nicotine settle the restless hum beneath my skin.
Boone was the next to join us, squeezing into the service space and leaning a hand on the bar as he scanned the crowd.
“I’m pretty sure Aspen’s enjoying this way too much,” he said, nodding toward the girls at the far end of the bar.
All three of them—Aspen, Theo, and Ellie—looked right at us, winked, and blew kisses.
“She is,” I said. “I brought them their drinks earlier. Pretty sure I saw a tally sheet in front of them.”
If I had to guess, one for every time one of the guys was hit on by someone.
“Where’s Penny anyway?” Logan asked, glancing around.
I shrugged.
I hadn’t seen her in a while, if I were being honest. She’d been working the room like a pro. She was handing out raffle tickets at the door, checking in on tables, laughing, smiling… making sure everyone felt seen.
But now?
I stood on my toes, scanning the crowd, but between the crush of bodies and the sea of cowboy hats, spotting her was impossible.
“You know what you need to do,” Rhodes said, shooting me a look.
I tilted my head. “What?”
“Get on that bull.”
“Oh, hell no,” I said immediately, taking a sharp inhale off my smoke.
“Rhodes has a point,” Boone chimed in, nodding. “You want to make a statement? Prove something? That’ll do it.”
“Damn right,” Rhodes said, slapping a hand against Boone’s chest. “Didn’t you pull that move with Aspen?”
Boone grinned. “Worked like a charm.”
“Let’s go!” Dudley’s voice cut through the noise behind me. I spun to find him grinning like a devil, motioning for me to move. I flipped him off, and he blew me a kiss in return.
I turned back to my friends. “You guys need more shots?”
They all groaned and nodded in unison.
As much as I didn’t want to get up on that bull and make a spectacle of myself, I knew I had to. They were right, it was time to make myself a spectacle in the name of impressing the girl.
I clapped Dudley on both shoulders, leaning in close.
“You two hold down the bar for a minute?”
He didn’t miss a beat. “We’ve been holding it down for the last ten while you were running your mouth. What’s a few more?” His tone was serious, but the smirk he wore was anything but.
I grinned, snuffed out my cigarette in the nearest tray, and ducked around the back of the bar. My boots thudded against the worn wooden floor as I pushed through the thick press of bodies, making my way toward the bull in the far corner.
She was already there.
Penny.
Laughing with a group of girls, her smile wide and wild, her cheeks flushed from whiskey and heat. She tossed her hair over her shoulder like she knew damn well how magnetic she was.
Part of me wanted to make a scene. The jealous, reckless part, the part that still felt the sting of not having her the way I used to. I wanted every guy in the bar to know she wasn’t theirs to look at like that. She was mine, whether she admitted it yet or not.
I stalked over to the guy manning the controls and said, “I’m up next.”
He gave me a slow nod, then motioned toward the bull.
Stretching my neck side to side, I stepped onto the platform just as a buzzer split through the air, signaling the next rider. The crowd shifted, turning toward the mat like they knew something good was coming. I swung my leg over the cold, fake hide of the bull and settled into position. One hand gripped the rope. The other stayed loose, raised in the air.
Then I heard it.
Her laugh.
Somehow it cut through the music, through the crowd noise, slicing right into my chest. I didn’t look at her yet, I needed all my focus to be on me and this bull.
The operator flipped the switch, and the bull lurched beneath me. I clenched my jaw, shifting my weight.
I looked up and immediately found her in the crowd, a big mistake.
Penny stood near the edge, arms folded under her chest, head tilted, mouth parted like she was caught between amusement and something else. Something hotter. Her eyes locked with mine, and there it was.
Possession. Challenge. Hunger.
I brought my attention back. My hips rolled with the bull’s rhythm, every movement calculated, controlled. It shifted beneath me, jerking into a hard spin, the world blurring for a beat before snapping straight again. I stayed grounded, locked in.
Facing the crowd again, I winked at Penny and sent her a dimpled smirk before I let go.
Both hands shot into the air, fingers spread wide, a show of confidence that wasn’t entirely fake. It was strength, yeah, but it was also pure adrenaline. I clenched with my core, kept myself anchored with nothing but muscle and the burning need to impress her.
The bull kicked harder, more unpredictable now, testing my balance. I moved with it, riding each surge like it was second nature. Every twist of my torso, every snap of my hips, was a silent message. Every flex of my body was aimed at her.
Then the music changed, and I laughed.
“Save a Horse (Ride a Cowboy)” blasted through the speakers like the universe had a sense of humor. The crowd roared around me—cheering, whooping—but none of it touched me.
I was too focused on her.
As the bull slowed for a beat, prepping for its next jolt, I shifted my weight and flipped around, now riding backward. A collective gasp echoed from the crowd, just before the machine bucked again, hard. I leaned into it, pressing my back against the curve of the bull like I was daring it to throw me.
It did.
One brutal spin and I was airborne, landing hard on the mat with a thud that knocked the air right out of my lungs.
But hell, if it wasn’t worth it.
Applause erupted around me, and cheering voices filled the space. The rush still surged in my blood as I got to my feet, breath coming fast, heart slamming against my ribs. I threw my hands into the air and bowed, a slow grin spreading across my face.
I wasn’t looking for cheers. I was only looking for her.
Penny was walking toward me with a smirk, radiating confidence.
Every step was deliberate, like she was stalking prey with that same deadly sway in her hips that drove me insane.
“You trying to prove something?” she asked, voice low and rough at the edges.
I grinned. “Depends. Did it work?”
Penny scoffed, but I caught the flicker of heat in her eyes before she could hide it. My hand came up, almost without thought, brushing along the curve of her jaw. If anyone was watching—which I knew they were—they’d know what I was saying without me having to spell it out.
Mine.
My chest rose and fell too fast, my breath still catching from the ride. But then I realized hers was, too. We were matched beat for beat, like the electricity between us had synced our pulse.
She stared up at me, pupils blown wide, and for one wild second, I thought this was it. I was going to kiss her, right there in front of everyone.
Claim her.
But she pulled back with a grin that was all teeth and challenge.
“I guess it’s my turn.”
Penny took a few slow steps back, her eyes not leaving mine. Then she turned, striding straight to the bull operator. She leaned over his table, both hands braced on the surface as she spoke.
My jaw slackened as I stared after her.
Her turn?
Was she really about to get on that bull?
I’d ridden it to prove something to her, to myself, to every bastard who looked at her like they had a shot. But Penny? She didn’t have a damn thing to prove. She already had me. All of me.
My heart.
My soul.
My entire fucking existence rested in the palm of her hand.
With a flick of her wrist, she turned and walked toward the bull. Then, like she was born for it, she mounted the mechanical beast in one smooth, effortless motion, swinging her leg over and settling in as though she’d done it a hundred times before.
I left the mats, standing off to the side with my arms crossed, legs braced wide. My chest tightened as I watched her adjust in her seat. I peeled my gaze away for half a second and instantly regretted it.
Like flies to shit, men of every age lined the barrier now, leaning in with wide eyes and slack jaws. Their gazes glued to her—arched back, bare legs, the dangerous little smirk tugging at her lips.
I clenched my jaw, heat simmering beneath my skin like I was the one about to buck and throw someone across the bar. My gaze snapped back to her just as she gave a small nod to the operator.
The bull jolted to life, starting in a slow, taunting spin. Penny gripped the strap with one hand, her other arm raised in the air like she’d done it before.
Maybe she had because every eye, every breath, every beat of the music belonged to her now.
As the bull picked up speed, her hips began to roll, grinding in a motion that was all confidence and heat. She didn’t just ride the bull; she commanded it. She moved in rhythm, like her body was built for this. For temptation.
I swallowed hard, throat dry, a thousand images flooding my brain. All of them of her riding me like that. That same rhythm. That same fire in her eyes.
Penny reached for her hat. With one smooth motion, she pulled it off, tossing her head back as her hair tumbled down her back in waves. She shook it out, wild and free, her smile dazzling and untamed. The kind of smile that made men stupid.
Including me.
The bull spun again, and she barely moved—solid, fierce, beautiful. Her chest puffed out, shoulders thrown back as she leaned forward and braced herself. The pathetic excuse for a shirt she wore clung to her, and when she arched, her breasts bounced in a way that nearly made my knees buckle.
I had to take a long, deep breath to keep from losing it completely.
If I glanced to the right, I knew what I’d see—those bastards drooling over her, eyes fixed where they didn’t belong. While Penny might’ve been showing off, I was seconds from losing every ounce of self-control I had.
She was mine.
And the minute she hit that mat, I was done watching.
With one final jolt, the bull threw her. Penny flew, landing flat on her back, her laughter cutting through the roar of the crowd. She lay there for just a moment, breathless, grinning like she’d won.
She had won.
I was already moving.
Two long strides and I was at her side, bending down and scooping her up, flinging her over my shoulder like I’d just claimed my prize. The crowd erupted, louder than ever, and she threw her fists into the air like a champion.
And hell, she was.
My champion.
My temptation.
My undoing.
I carried her through the bar, past the stunned stares, the laughter, the hoots. Dudley gave me a mock salute, and somewhere in the background, Rhodes slid behind the bar and Aspen headed toward the crowd, like they’d been ready for this moment all night.
Penny didn’t even try to fight me. She laughed—loud, full of joy—and clung to me like she knew exactly where this was headed.
Up the stairs.
To my apartment.
To us.
With one hard kick, I shoved the door open and stepped inside.
Then I slammed it shut behind us.