The mechanical bull waits, and Sawyer—acting like some warrior queen, all spitfire and sparkling boots—approaches it with a confidence that doesn’t surprise me onebit.
She flashes a grin, all defiant behind those baby-blue eyes, and swings onto the bull like she owns the damn thing. The crowd hushes, anticipation crackling as she sits.
"What was that?" Rogue nudges my arm, his voice low and heavy with suspicion.
"Nothing," I shrug, my gaze still tracking Sawyer as she holds on tight, pure sass and unnecessary courage. "Just a little contest."
Rogue's eyes drill into me as he takes a long pull from his beer. The drink doesn't soften the edge in his voice when he leans in. "Little contest, huh? Looks to me like you just lost on purpose," he drawls, the corners of his mouth twitch with a knowing smirk.
"No idea what you're talking about," I lie, and he knows it.
But before he can press further, the bull roars to life beneath Sawyer, and all eyes are drawn back to her. I watch her, the way her body reacts to the bull, how she holds on tight. There’s a grace in the way she moves—light, effortless—but underneath, there’s some kinda grit there. A determination that says she’s here to prove me wrong. And damn, maybe I want her to.
She's straddling the machine, her blonde waves contrast against her tan skin, and I can’t help but notice how her perky tits bounce with each dip.
Rogue leans in close. "I know what it looks like when you get bucked off," he says, still not dropping it. "You didn’t even try to make that look real.”
"Shut up, now." I side-eye him before my focus shifts back to the main event. "Got a show to watch."
The mechanical bull bucks, but she’s got a grip on it. My heart keeps pace as I focus on her every move. Those damncowgirl boots are hugging her legs in all the right ways—ways I have never appreciated until now.
Atti's still at the controls, and it's clear as crystal she's playing favorites tonight. The bull moves with a gentle roll, nothing like the mechanical rage she set loose on me. But Sawyer, she rides like she's born to, makes it look like some sexy ass show. The guys around me erupt into cheers, while the men on the opposite side whistle loud enough to wake the fucking dead.
I cross my arms over my chest. Atti, behind the panel, watches Sawyer light up the room. With a flick of her wrist, she hits a button, and the bull eases into a slow, drawn-out spin. The move draws the gaze of every soul in this damn place. And just like that, she's doubled my time—hell, she’s shattered it.
I’m caught between admiring her and irritation. Sawyer doesn’t just have the crowd on her side—she's got all the men in here drooling and standin’ up straight.
"Careful now," Danger's voice is low as he slides in beside me. "One like that will give you a run for your money."
I tilt my head toward him, half-grin on my face. "Knox’s sister, remember," I say, probably more as a reminder for me than him.
My eyes still follow her every move, tracing the arch of her back as she shifts to match the rhythm of the ride. My fingers tap an impatient beat on my thigh.
Then it happens—a twist too quick, then a buck too sharp. Sawyer is airborne before she hits the padded mats with a bounce. I don’t miss her squeal of delight. It’s pure excitement. Because she won and she knows it, beat the cowboy at his own game.
The crowd explodes into hoots, hollers, and enoughtestosterone to power a damn tractor pull. Every guy in the bar practically trips over himself to help her down. She flips her hair like she knows she was the main act tonight, skippin’ over with a smirk that’s got “told you so” written all over it.
“Starting to regret underestimating me?”
“Regret’s not really my style,” I say, meeting her eyes.
“Yeah?” She grins. “Guess losing is more your thing.”
"I’ll give you that, sweetheart," I say, leaning into her space just enough to breathe her in again. I rest my arm above her head on a wooden post. "Guess you won fair and square. Go ahead and tell me exactly what it is you're about to make me do."
Her lips curve. It’s not quite a smile, but it says she has something up her sleeve. "Oh, no," she shakes her head, all sass and secrets. “I'm saving your dare for another day. Some things are worth keeping until the right moment."
And damn if that doesn't intrigue me. What the hell is she planning to make me do? With Sawyer, there's no telling. But one thing's for sure: I know I won’t back down from a dare.
A gentle breeze flutters down from the ceiling fans above, playing with the edges of her hair as if it can't resist touching her. Her back presses against the railing of the bull ring, and I lean in.
"Let me get this straight, you’re saving it?"
"I can do what I want with my dare."
"Can you now?" My brow quirks up, trying to understand this play of hers.
"Absolutely," she says with a hair flip.
