Page 54 of The Great Dating Fake Off
I nod, adrenaline coursing through me at his nearness and the warmth of his voice.
The bartender slings a rag over his shoulder as he stops in front of us. “What can I get you, brother?”
Benji swivels toward the bar, almost hip checking me. I lurch backward to accommodate his width.
A hand steadies me. Warm fingers grip the sliver of skin between my jeans and my tank, sending a shiver up my back.
Sebastian’s touch is gone as fast as it came. “You good?”
“Yes.” My skin prickles everywhere as I steal a look over my shoulder, my gaze colliding with his jaw. He’s right there, looming behind me.
I take a breath. Everyone is jammed into the bar like sardines. It is what it is.
Even still, it feels wrong.
Seb’s voice hits my ear again. “Where are you on the drunk scale of one to ten?”
I hum in consideration. “Maybe a six. You?”
“One. Someone’s got to drive.”
“So, you’re their party dad tonight. Bummer.” I hug my chest. “Alessia’s our driver.”
“Good.” He doesn’t get any closer, but his voice lowers like a caress. “They’re having fun. You should, too, Nor. I’ll keep an eye on everyone.”
I peer up and back to catch his gaze. “What about you? You don’t get to participate?”
His gaze dips lower on my face. “I’m happy to watch.”
Benji rears back from the bar with two plastic glasses of honey-colored liquid and a broad smile on his face. He hands one to me. “Who wants to ride the bull?”
I take a sideways step away from Sebastian. From both men. “Sure.”
“Where’s Sergio?” Sebastian asks. “This seems right up his alley.”
Sergio pokes his head around Enzo and Ro, who are now doing something even worse than kissing—making intense eye contact at very close range. Foreplay range.
“I’m here. ’Scuse me.” Sergio shoves past Ro and Enzo. “What’s the play?”
“It’s bull time,” Benji declares.
Enzo de-suctions his gaze from Ro’s face. “Did someone say bull?”
Chapter Sixteen
Sebastian
Nora’s hips move in a rhythmic sway as we move toward the mechanical bull ring. She’s in those damn jean cutoffs again, but this time, she’s wearing them with a body-hugging, nearly see-through tank top that begs to be stared at.
How the hell is a shirt that says cowboy pillows doing it for me in such a major way? It makes me want to throw a sweater over her and lug her back to the lodge before an actual cowboy gets any ideas.
I pull up beside her so I don’t have to watch her walk anymore.
Ro waves us on and jogs to the dance floor to rescue Gia—or maybe forcibly remove her from the cowboy’s arms.
Alessia surfaces, no doubt fresh from hiding to say goodnight to El. She gathers with the rest of us near the entrance gate of the corral, next to a group of three women.
Behind where the operator is posted up on a stool, a sign that says Feisty Little Bucker hangs next to a digital clock. A hanging pendulum light casts a bright glow on the tiny, raised stage that acts as a podium for the mechanical bull.
