Page 44 of The Bull Rider and the Bookworm
“Congratulations on finishing therapy!!” Aubrey announced, tooting on his kazoo as he led me to the register where a cupcake with white frosting that readFREE AT LASTin bright pink icing. “We had to do something to celebrate this momentous occasion.” He smiled widely at up me but that joy didn’t reach his soulful brown eyes.
“We meaning you and me later in bed?” I asked.
A few ladies over in the gardening section tittered.
“Well maybe, but we as in you, me, Jesse, and Lucas going to the Saddle Up for dinner and maybe some dancing? I’m not too shabby on the dance floor.”
“Yeah, I’ve seen you boom, shake, and drop a few times.”
He blushed that adorable shade of pink that made my dick twitch. “That you have. So eat your cupcake and wash it down with some cold tea. Lots of lemon and sugar the way you like it. Do you need ice for your shoulder still?”
“Nah, it’s good as new.” I bent down to peck his cheek and then ate my cupcake in one go after feeding my man half. That he fussed over me filled me with warmth. I loved the attention so I made sure to spoil him doubly each and every day. “Why don’t you go tend to your customers and I’ll get my tea?”
“Okay. Love you.”
“Love you too.” So damned much it scared me.
The Saddle Up outon the loop outside of town hadn’t change much at all over the years. It still had flickering parking lights, chipped glass windows with neon beer signs hanging off-kilter, and a front door with a sign about being at least twenty-one toenter that definitely had been printed off and laminated when Three Dog Night was topping the charts.
I’d tried to buy beer here once when I was fifteen. Howie, the owner who still sported a fat Wilfred Brimley mustache, had thrown me out on my ass so fast I never came back. Course I was sleeping on benches the next year so coming back for round two was a moot point.
The interior was just as I recalled. Low ceiling, lots of wood, stage to the left and the bar on the other side of the dance floor. Tables scattered around a dining area in no particular pattern. There were some folks here already, cooling off with a cold one or dining on the famed burgers served after five. Bar food. God, I did love it. My cholesterol panels probably didn’t, but a few fries never hurt no one. Right? The new addition that held my attention for a moment or two was the mechanical bull. On the wall by the bull ring—a circle of fencing filled with cushions which would be amazing in real life rodeo—sat a saddle so beautifully crafted my eyes watered at the sight. A poster board tacked to the wall by the saddle told about a tiered competition starting with a tee if you did eight seconds to the top rider winning that saddle. It would look so good on Adobe. Better than my worn one with the loose seat stitching and thin girth rigging. I could win that easy. Maybe show my man what I did for a living, get a little pride built back up…
“I was expecting Patrick Swayze to card us when we entered,” Jesse commented as we found ourselves a table by the stage.
“Roadhouseis art,” I announced, daring anyone to argue the point. None did.
“If only,” Lucas sighed dreamily. I pulled out a chair for Aubrey then tucked him in before giving the others a questioning look.
“I’ll get the first round. What are we having?”
A Coors for me and Jesse, a lemon-lime soda for Lucas, and a perky Chablis for Aubrey. Howie was still behind the bar, still looking as if he could bite the head off a rattler, still wearing that damned mustache.
“Howdy,” I said with a smile as I leaned an elbow on the bar. “We’d like two Coors drafts, a Sprite, and a perky Chablis.” The old man started laughing. I sighed. He then went on to yuck it up so hard and so long he got the hiccups. When he was done I nodded. “Right, okay so how about some cold cola with a lemon instead of the Chablis?”
“Perky Chablis. Shit, that’s funny stuff.” That was all he said as he dabbed at his face with a bar napkin. “I got some wine coolers. Might still be good.”
“Yes, thank you. I’m sure that will be fine.” When he came back from digging around in a cooler for five minutes I hit him with my nonchalant dude act. “So that bull,” I asked as he plunked a Seagram’s wine cooler the color of a blueberry next to the beers. “I’d like to win that saddle.” He glanced up at me from under two silver caterpillars resting above his eyes.
“That a fact?”
“It is. I’m pretty good at bull riding,” I bragged. Omitting the fact I had only won one gold buckle in my twenty-plus years but had taken home several broken bones, two concussions, and back that was so twisted up I could check out my ass with ease.
“Okay. Let me know when you want to give it a go and we’ll see how far up the tier you go.” He shoved the drinks at me. I tossed him a twenty then made two trips back and forth. Aubrey asked if there were menus.
“No, just the sign above the board,” Jesse answered before draining half his beer in one long pull. “I can tell you the choices. They haven’t changed in all the years I’ve been coming here.” He rattled off the short menu. We all decided on burgers and fries. “Oh, you have to tell Howie your order. I don’t think Iggyis working tonight. Iggy would come to the table but Howie? Nope.”
“Right.” Up I went once more.
“Oh, ask about desserts!” Aubrey said, so I went to the bar again.
“We’d like to order four burgers, four fries, and some dessert.” Howie looked at me as if I had pelicans doing the two-step on my head. He reached under the bar, pulled out a half-eaten candy bar, and chucked it at me. “Got it,” I said, placing the candy back to the bar before returning to my seat. “No desserts, sorry, baby.”
“It’s okay. We have cupcakes at home.”
Amazingly,the burgers and fries were incredible.
Greasy as sin, dripping cheese and ketchup all over the place, the burger lived up to the hype my brother had given it. The fries were outstanding. Salty as a two-dollar hooker. A little something sweet like a brownie would have hit the spot but I could hold out until we got home for another cupcake.
