by Erika Kelly
“Have fun?”
“I have fun. It’s just a different kind.”
Rosalina leaned in to hear better, and the tips of her hair landed near a little cup of salsa. “What’s your idea of fun now?”
“Pushing my little boy on the swings, snuggling with him before bed, and reading him books. Baking cookies and letting him lick the spoon.”
And see? Rosalina wasn’t ready for that yet. It sounded so sweet…but she just wasn’t there. “You’re a good mom.”
“I hope so. I want to be.”
“Can I ask where his father is?”
“He’s not in the picture.”
In St. Christophe, it was exceedingly impolite to ask personal questions. Which meant all conversations were shallow, brushing over the more meaningful topics.
But Rosalina hated small talk. It drove her insane. Which explained why she spent so much time alone. Well, she wasn’t in St. Christophe anymore, and her friend had brought it up. “Like, at all? Does he ever visit?”
“He comes home every now and then to see his family—”
“Isn’t his son his family?”
“His son is an obligation forced on him by his parents.”
“What happened?” Rosalina slapped a hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry. That was rude.” She pushed her drink away. “I’ll stop now.”
Skylar pushed it right back. “You’re fine. This is what friends do. They talk.”
“Most people don’t talk to me.”
“Because you’re so beautiful?”
“What?” She snorted. Yes, she actually snorted. And she loved being able to do whatever she wanted. “Ha. No.” Because I’m a princess. But she couldn’t say that.
“Oh, come on. You’re striking. All that gorgeous, shiny hair, your boobs.” Skylar shook her head. “Well, I do this for a living, so if you want to make an appointment…”
“Do what?”
“Fight people’s demons for them.”
“I’m…I’m not…” She couldn’t believe it. It had never occurred to her that what she accepted as “fact” was nothing more than a lack of self-esteem. I’m not sexy enough. I’m not pretty enough to “wow” someone. Well…what if I am? “Oh, you’re good. You’re really good.”
“That’s why they pay me the big bucks. Anyhow, so Rocco’s dad and I were together in high school. We had big plans to move to LA, where he’d become a musician, and I’d be a stylist to the stars. But then I got pregnant and ‘ruined everything.’” She rolled her eyes.
“Are you saying he just left without you?”
“Not without a lot of fighting and threats, but yes. He didn’t want to be a dad, and I wasn’t going to let my child feel like a mistake, not for one second of his life. Rocco’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”
“That makes me sad that he doesn’t want to know his son.”
“That’s the hardest part for me. At first, I was devastated that he’d left me. It was the scariest time in my life. Twenty and pregnant? I’m lucky, though, because I’ve got this big, great family, so they’ve totally been there for me. But the thing that keeps me up at night is the fact that one day Rocco’s going to get it. That his dad doesn’t care about him. And I’m so afraid of how he’ll handle it. I can do everything in my power to make him feel loved and special, but I can’t change the fact that his own father doesn’t give a shit.”
Rosalina reached across the table and clasped Skylar’s hand. “There’s no getting around the fact that it’ll hurt him, but everyone’s got wounds. None of us gets a free pass in this life. What’s important is that Rocco’s got a loving family to help him through it. I think he’ll be all right.”
“I hope so. Now, let’s get-to-gettin’. I don’t hang out with people who don’t walk the talk.”
“What does that even mean? You Americans and your weird expressions.” She glanced at the bull to find a different woman riding it. This one had less finesse, but she still rode that sucker like it was her job. “I’m assuming you mean I’m all talk, and my only answer to that nonsense is to show you my back and let you see for yourself.” With that, she started to get up.
But Skylar grabbed her arm. “Hold on, cowgirl.” She held out Rosalina’s purse.
“Oh, right.” In St. Christophe, she didn’t have to worry about details like that, since she had an entourage who looked out for her every need. “Thank you.” She reached for the pitcher and filled her glass one more time. This one, she chugged. “Oh, God. Oh, God.” She clapped a hand to her forehead, waiting for the knife in her brain to stop twisting.
“You okay there?” Skylar rubbed the middle of her back. “Brain freeze?”
Rosalina nodded like a child. The rapid infusion of tequila had her nerves jangling.
“Come on.” Skylar led the way. “Let’s see if we can get you on that leaderboard.”
When they got to the ring, Skylar said hello to Gigi and the group of women around her, so Rosalina headed over to the MC.
“My friend and I would like to take a turn riding the bull.” The woman cracked a smile, making Rosalina wonder if she’d gone about it the wrong way. “Oh, I’m sorry. There must be a sign-up sheet or something.”
“Honey, you’re going straight to the top of the list. You going first?” the MC asked.
Rosalina thought about the woman who’d ridden the bull like it was a sex toy.
I want to be that sexy.
I want to drive a man crazy.
“Actually, she is.” Rosalina pointed to her friend. “Skylar James.”
The woman gave her an amused nod. “Next up, we’ve got a spunky little cowgirl. Let’s hear it for Skylar James.”
As Rosalina headed back, Skylar parted from the group to meet her. “Thanks a lot.”
“What? You’ve wanted to do this since you were in high school. Now’s your chance.” She nudged her friend. “The future belongs to those who grab their dreams by the horns.”
“I don’t think you should mix American expressions with tequila.” Skylar handed over her purse. “Okay, girlfriend. Watch and learn.” And then she strutted onto the inflatable bed, gripped one of the ropes tied around the beast’s neck, and threw a leg over the saddle.
A small crowd gathered, cheering her on. The cowboy who’d been watching from the bar sidled up to Rosalina, tipping his hat. “You gonna ride?”
“I am.” She hadn’t flirted in… well, ever.
You’re single. You’re free. And, here, you’re Rosie. There was no one in this entire bar who knew she was a princess. She smiled at the guy, but the tequila swirled in her brain, and she had to reach for the railing surrounding the ring.
“You okay, there? Let me get you some water.”
“No, no. I’m fine. Really.” A bundle of nerves just from a cute guy talking to her, Rosalina didn’t pay attention to the MC calling out instructions. All she knew was that the bull jerked back, then spun sideways. Skylar raised a hand in the air, while her hips rolled fluidly with each thrust of the bull.
Her friend held on like a pro, doing that super sexy roll of her hips. She watched the bystanders, shouting and pumping their fists, clapping for her, when her gaze snagged on one man in particular.
It was the way he carried himself, his strong posture, the muscular back and arms. The thick head of dark hair, streaked with gold and bronze from all the time he spent outdoors. That zing of awareness had her fingers curling into fists.
What was it about Brodie Bowie that gave her this jolt of electric heat?
He sat at a table with three other brawny, handsome men who had to be his brothers. One of them reached for the hand of the woman next to him—a gorgeous blonde with an infectious smile—and kissed her palm. For one moment, they gazed into each other’s eyes, like they were shutting out the whole world to be alone together in the chaos of the bar.
Another brother, the one with scruff and shoulder-length hair, had his arm wrapped around his brunette girlfriend—or wife, Ro
salina didn’t actually know—and he kept sifting his fingers through her hair. The couples were so…intimate. So sweet and loving.
The royal family didn’t show affection in public.
But that wasn’t really the issue, was it? She couldn’t think of the last time she and Marcel had held hands. They’d never needed to touch each other like that. They were pals. Buddies. Good friends.
If she’d married him, they’d have been nothing but roommates, and she’d never know passion.
Relief seized her. Oh, thank God. After all the hurt he’d caused, it seemed ridiculous to say, but she could see that Marcel had done her a huge favor by playing his game with Fabiana.
It cleared the way for her to want more. Or maybe Brodie had done that. Being here had unearthed a yearning for love and sensuality. God, she craved so much more than she’d ever allowed herself to want.
As though he could feel her watching, Brodie turned and looked right at her. The laughter on his face died, and she was hit with a burst of desire so powerful, it scared her to pieces.
And, right then, she knew there was nothing wrong with her. She’d just never met Brodie before. That kind of man didn’t live in St. Christophe. He lived here. He was of this world.
A tingling sensation zipped from the back of her neck down to the soles of her feet.
I want him.
She wanted to shove her hands in that silky hair, wanted to straddle his hard thighs, and offer her breasts to his hungry mouth. She wanted to see his eyes go crazy with lust.
For me.
And, oh, God, he was looking at her just like that. With desire, with lust.
“Here you go.” The cowboy held a glass of ice water out to her.
“Thank you.” She took a sip of the cold water and stuck her hand out. “I’m Rosie.”
“Dusty.” He tipped his hat to her.
“You’re up.” Skylar shouted, tugging on her arm.
Rosalina turned to the cowboy. “Any advice for a newbie?”
“Hold on tight.” The skin around his eyes crinkled in amusement.
But she wasn’t amused. She’d wanted actual tips. Whatever. Let’s do this. Thrusting the glass back to him and the purses at Skylar, she dried her palms on her jeans and opened the gate.
Whoa.
How about next time you’re going to walk across an inflatable surface, you don’t drink tequila first? She practically toppled onto the bull, but she didn’t care what she looked like. She just wanted to climb onto its back and stay there for the entire eight seconds.
How hard can it be? She could do anything for eight measly seconds.
“Grab hold of the rope and throw your leg over the bull,” Skylar called.
“Right.” She’d ride that bronco like a pole at a strip club.
I feel sexy, so that’s how I’ll look.
Reaching under a series of ropes, she got a good grip. Fortunately, she’d grown up riding horses, so she knew how to get in the saddle. Only, this one was much wider than hers.
“We’ve got a newbie in the house,” the MC said into the microphone.
Whistles and calls filled the bar.
“You ready, princess?” the MC called.
What the hell? Rosalina froze, whipping around to see her. How did she know? Had Brodie told someone? But before she could find him in the crowd, the bull jolted. It jerked back and spun sideways—just as it had for Skylar. Only, it didn’t move nearly as fast or as recklessly.
It actually wasn’t that bad. She held on with both hands, concentrating on keeping her balance. She relaxed a little, letting her body move with the jerky movements.
She wanted to do that sexy roll of her hips, but before she could go for it, the bull snapped harder, swiveled faster. Rosalina nearly slid off the saddle. Her thighs gripped the rawhide for dear life.
Forget sexy, she just needed to stay on. Perspiration soaked her shirt and plastered her hair to her forehead. She remembered seeing Skylar hold one arm in the air, so she tentatively freed a hand and lifted it.
Shit. God. What the hell? The thing was going faster, bucking and spinning and jerking.
Her bottom slipped off the saddle, and her fingers ached from her tight grip on the rope. She wanted to find Skylar in the crowd. Help me. But everything was moving and shaking—
And then she was flying, the world a blur of color and faces.
Rosalina landed on her bottom on the inflatable pad. At first, she was stunned, but with the crowd laughing at her like it was the most hilarious thing they’d ever seen, what could she do but wave at them? “Thank you,” she called. “And for my next act…” But she was pretty sure no one could hear her over the music and laughter.
Just as she was about to get up, Brodie leapt over the railing and knelt beside her. “You okay, princess?”
“Did you tell them about me?”
“What? No.” And then he grinned. “There’s no escaping who you are. You look fancy even in jeans.”
She looked into those bright blue eyes filled amusement. “I don’t want to look fancy. I want to look sexy.”
“You were sexy in the way a very beautiful woman looks when she touches a live wire that delivers a giant jolt of electricity to her body.”
She barked out a laugh. “You’re a jerk.” Yanking out of his grip, she rolled onto all fours on the bouncy surface and got herself up to standing. “No wonder you don’t have a girlfriend.”
“Come on. Let’s get you out of here so someone can show you how it’s done.”
“I’m not going anywhere. I’m riding again. I’m going to get it right, and I’ll be sexy doing it.”
With a firm grip on her upper arm, he gave the MC a chin nod. Again. And then to the bar, he shouted, “What do you think? Should we let the city girl have another go?”
Whoops and shouts exploded around her, and after a lifetime of playing demure and elegant, she pumped her fist. “Let’s do this.” She leaned closer to Brodie. “Got any tips for me?”
“Lean forward. Get your upper body over your rope hand. Use your free arm for balance—don’t flail it around like your hand’s on fire and you’re trying to put it out. Turn your toes out and dig in your heels.”
“Anything else?”
“When the bull jerks left, you lean right. Keep your upper body loose and your thighs tight.” He leaned in close to her ear. “Bet you’re real good at that one.”
Laughing, she smacked his arm. “That’s not something you’ll ever find out.”
“Shame. Now, go, before you lose your nerve.”
She gazed up at him, and for one sizzling moment, all the noise and laughter and booming country music faded away. Her heart thundered, and blood roared in her ears, as they shared a searing connection.
She wanted to cup his strong jaw, run her fingers over his lips. She wanted to see his eyes go lazy with lust.
But he broke the spell. “Go on and show us what you’ve got.”
Right. Turning back to the bull, she grabbed the rope and swung her leg over the saddle. Seated, she got a solid grip, then motioned for them to hit the joystick.
This time, she’d concentrate. She’d drop the fear and self-consciousness. So, when it started moving, she focused on moving her hips in time with the rocking. Her neck and back jolted, snapped, but she thought about Brodie’s advice. She dug her heels into the rawhide and let her upper body flap like a flag in the wind.
I’m doing it.
I might not be sexy, but I’m fierce.
And then the speed increased, and the bull whipped first in one direction, then back in the other.
That’s okay. I got this.
She pumped her arm, making an attempt at some kind of cowboy call, but even she knew it came out weird. But, whatever, she was riding the bull. Rolling her hips.
She was killing it.
And then, before she knew what happened, she was sailing—the breath caught in her lungs—and landing on her hip. She couldn’t control the laughter
that exploded out of her.
Brodie crouched beside her. “Now that was sexy.”
“The way I’m sprawling on the floor?”
“The way you put yourself out there.” He cupped her chin. “You’re fearless.”
Little bits of happiness pattered on her heart like warm summer rain, drenching her parched soul. She got up and bowed for the onlookers, loving it when they clapped and hooted for her.
Just as Brodie started to lead her away, she stopped, grabbed his wrist, and lifted it. “Who wants to see Brodie Bowie ride this thing?”
“Hey, now.” Brodie’s voice was low in her ear. “I’m not the one who’s got something to prove.”
She gave his rock-hard body a push. “Don’t be scared now, you big bruiser. The fall’s not that bad.”
“It’s been a long time since we had a Bowie ride,” the MC called. “Come on, y’all. Help me get Brodie up here.”
“Brodie, Brodie, Brodie…” The roar was deafening, and Rosalina laughed when she saw his expression. Suffice it to say he wasn’t pleased.
She made her way out to the other side of the barrier and watched while Brodie sliced a hand through the air, and the bull started moving.
“Oh, this is going to be good.” Skylar watched, enthralled.
But something wasn’t right. The bull was out of control. “What the heck’s going on?” Rosalina asked. “Why’s it going so fast? It didn’t go that fast for me.”
“Because he’s a Bowie. I swear, they make a special speed just for them.”
“Because they’re so fit?”
“Because they’re all extreme athletes.”
“All of them?” She’d read about Brodie’s run for the Olympics but nothing about the brothers. She didn’t need to read anything, though, to see that Brodie had more grace and athleticism than a ballet dancer, hockey player, and gymnast combined. “I heard he missed his shot at the Olympics.”
“Yep, it happened when he was eighteen. He was two weeks away when he got injured. It was awful, because the whole world was watching his every move.”
“Two weeks? Wow. That must’ve been devastating.” She thought about what he’d said about not following-through with his projects, and she thought maybe it made sense. Working so hard towards a goal, pouring your whole heart and soul into it…and then having it snatched away from you. That would make anyone not want to put himself out there again.
