Not that I blame them.
Given the choice, I’d rather watch her, too.
I approach the bull with swift, smooth steps.
Show no fear.
It doesn’t matter that it’s a mechanical beast or that the ride operator has minimal control.
It’s the way I approach everything in life—except for rodents.
But I’m making progress on that front, thanks to Lucy. In fact, Gizmo and I have reached an agreement: I stay out of his way, and he stays out of mine.
Win-win.
I climb onto the bull and position myself in the saddle, gripping the strap with my left, non-dominant hand, as the ride operator suggested. Apparently the dominant hand is better for breaking falls, and since I’d rather not return to Triada with a broken anything, I’m following his advice.
It worked well enough for Lucy. Hopefully it’ll work for me, too.
I turn to find her in the crowd and spot her to the right of the ride operator.
She smiles, her full pink lips like a siren’s call as she presses the tips of her fingers to her mouth and kisses them before flattening her palm and blowing me a kiss.
It’s the last thing I see before Nitro roars to life and I go flying right over his horns.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Lucy
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I ask, unlocking the door to the Airstream. “It’s not too late to swing by the ER and get checked out.”
“I’ll be fine.” Miles touches the back of his head and winces, breath hissing between his teeth. “A little ice and I’ll be good as new.”
Guilt claws at my throat. Not because I strong-armed him into riding the bull, but because I distracted him with that stupid air kiss. If it weren’t for my reckless behavior, he would have seen the ride operator’s thumbs-up and he wouldn’t have taken such a nasty fall.
Or maybe he would have, because that’s the whole point.
There’s no way to know for sure.
We stumble inside, and I flip the lights on. “Lie down on my bed, and I’ll make you an ice pack.”
For once, he doesn’t argue.
Thank you, sweet baby Jesus.
I grab a kitchen towel and open the tiny freezer. We don’t have a lot of ice, but I scoop up a handful and wrap it in the towel.
When I turn to the bed, Miles is stretched out on his back with one arm curled behind his head and a sexy smirk on his face. His shirt is riding up, revealing the sliver of taut skin and muscle that gets me every damn time. He looks far too relaxed for someone who just got tossed from the back of a mechanical bull like a freaking rag doll.
Because he’s playing you.
I lean a hip against the counter and hold up my makeshift ice pack. “Do you even need this, or were the dramatics a ploy to gain my sympathy?”
He pats the space next to him on the bed. “Come on over here and find out.”
Anticipation flutters low in my belly, but I hold my ground. “I should’ve known you’d resort to playing dirty when you said you had another trick up your sleeve.”
“I never said anything about a trick.” He crooks a finger, inviting me closer. And just like that, my resolve crumbles, my feet crossing the short distance to the bed of their own volition. “I believe I said I had the winning hand.”
