Page 52 of Trying Not to Need You

“So, you were working out?” she asks, her eyes bouncing around the room.

“I was. The house was too quiet.”

“I can see you and the guys hanging out here.” She smiles, her eyes still taking it all in.

“We did a lot at first, but once the newness wore off, it kind of phased out.”

“Does that thing actually work?” She points to the mechanical bull.

“It does.” I nod. “Want to try it?”

She turns to look at me over her shoulder, and the “Yes” that flies out of her mouth isn’t necessary. Her grin would have been answer enough.

“Hop on,” I tell her.

“Wait. Don’t I need, like, lessons or rules or something?” She worries her bottom lip as I step up beside her.

I grin. “The rules are, hold on for eight seconds, but don’t worry, I’ll go slow.”

“What happens if I fall off?”

“You land on the dismount mat. I can blow up the inflatable arena if that would make you feel more secure.”

“Maybe I don’t want to do this. Falling is not really on my list of things to do today.”

“Baylor, I’ll go slow. I promise you. You’re not getting injured on my watch.”

“You go first,” she tells me.

“Babe, you do remember that I did this for a living, right?” I point a finger at my chest. “Retired bull rider.”

“I know.” She laughs. “But I’m nervous.”

“It’s not a real bull, Baylor,” I tease.

“Why do you have this? Nostalgia?”

I chuckle. “No, this is what I’d use to practice. This one can get just as rowdy as a real bull, so when I was home between events, or in the off-season, I’d use this a few days a week, and then I’d head over to my buddy Brad’s place to practice with the actual bulls.”

She shakes her head. “Nope. No way will you find me on the back of a real, live bull, Macklin. You could have been hurt. A serious kind of hurt.”

I bite down on the inside of my cheek, needing the pain to keep from smiling. My girl’s worried about me. I hung up my spurs and chaps. No more bulls for me, not the real ones, anyway, but it’s nice to see that she cares.

“I’m right here,” I tell her, sliding my arm around her waist. “Now, do you want to try it or not?”

“You go first. I want to watch.”

I smile. “Okay, sweets. Watch and learn.” I stalk over to the bull, hit the power switch, and grab the remote. I climb onto the bull with practiced ease and grip the bull rope. I glance over at Baylor, and she’s chewing on her bottom lip again, only this time, it appears to be less worry and more desire, which has my cock thickening in my sweats. Not exactly comfortable for what I’m about to do.

Hitting the remote, I go at the lowest speed, which is child’s play for me, but I want her to see how fast she’ll be moving. I ride it out for far longer than eight seconds, more like thirty, before I hit Stop on the remote and let go of the bull rope.

“Well?” I ask her. “You ready to try it?”

“I don’t know,” she says, still unsure.

“Come here, Bay. I’ll ride with you. We’ll take it slow. You saw how fast I was spinning.”

“Is it safe for us to be on there at the same time?”