Chute Yeah Page 9

  I picked up the menu and started to go through it, deciding what I wanted.

  “Can I order for you?” Banks asked, surprising me out of my perusal of the menu.

  I blinked, then shrugged.

  “Sure,” I said easily.

  The waitress came and he said we’d have two specials, one of each. When she asked how we wanted them, he said ‘thick.’

  “Water?” she asked.

  Banks shook his head. “No, not right now. When we’re finished with those, then we’ll order.”

  “What did you get me?” I asked curiously.

  He grinned wickedly at me, and my heart throbbed fiercely in my chest.

  “A surprise.”

  The surprise ended up being a milkshake.

  And what a fuckin’ milkshake it was.

  Oh. My. God.

  “If I could get away with marrying an inanimate object…” I said, taking another delicious pull of my dessert. “Jesus.”

  Banks grinned and sucked on his own drink.

  We’d traded off milkshakes quite a few times now, and I was torn.

  His milkshake was peanut butter, caramel, chocolate drizzle and banana ice cream. Mine, on the other hand, was vanilla ice cream, strawberries, and chocolate.

  Both of them were the specials of the house, and each of them had their own beautiful qualities to them.

  But I was leaning toward liking the banana one more.

  “I think the only thing that could make this more perfect is a brownie.” I paused. “Or a piece of birthday cake.”

  Banks lips twitched, and he leaned back in his chair, his face quirking as he did.

  “What?” I asked him. “Something wrong?”

  He rolled his shoulder over and over again, stretching it out.

  “My shoulder hurts,” he admitted. “I must’ve slept wrong on it.”

  I burst out laughing.

  “That’s the difference between your young twenties to your late twenties,” I told him. “Last week I woke up with a crick in my neck, and I honestly contemplated dropping everything and heading straight to the chiropractor. Damn responsibilities.”

  He grinned at that.

  “I was in the military,” he said. “I used to do some god-awful, stupid shit. For real. Like, no joke. There were times when we really should’ve died. If I thought about doing any of that now? I really would die. You’d see me dead in a grave.”

  “What do you mean?” I pulled my cup with me as I leaned back into the booth, then crossed my feet up underneath of me to get more comfortable. “What kinds of things are we talking about?”

  “Drinking. Getting up at four am to run ten miles. Working all day. Then drinking again that night to do it all over again that morning.” He shook his head. “I used to survive on about four hours of sleep. And that was a good day. If I got four hours of sleep now, I might shrivel up and die.”

  My smile was soft as I said, “I think you could probably pull it off.” I paused. “You really used to run ten miles?”

  He shrugged. “Sometimes. Other times we hiked it up mountains carrying our packs.”

  I shuddered to think.

  The idea of running literally made me want to vomit just thinking about it.

  “You don’t like to run?” he asked.

  I made a scrunchy face at him, then sucked in the last of my milkshake.

  Seconds later he was doing the same.

  “I don’t like to sweat,” I said. “That means no running, no weightlifting, no being outside for longer than thirty-five seconds in the summer.” I paused. “What?”

  His lips were twitching already.

  “Honey, you live in Texas,” he said.

  That was true.

  “That’s why I said no longer than thirty-five seconds,” I teased.

  “What about sex?” he asked. “That’s a sweaty affair.”

  My face flushed.

  “Umm,” I hesitated. “I’ve…errrrm….”

  “Fuck.” He slapped his hand over his forehead. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”

  I smiled sadly at him.

  “I’m okay,” I told him. “I’ve seen a therapist. I’ve talked to quite a few people about it. I just… I haven’t found someone that I can stand to do it with more than once.”

  That was a lie.

  I wanted to do it with him.

  Banks made me want and crave him every fuckin’ time I saw him.

  Little by little, my fear was being replaced by want and need, and each time Banks looked my way, it only got better.

  His eyes went heated for a long second before he looked away. When he looked back, he was once again in control.

  “Do you want to eat dinner now?” he asked. “Was that enough of a dessert?”

  I shrugged. “How about we order dinner, then, I can rethink dessert once I’m done.”

  He winked, and I felt that in my heart, too.

  Also, in other places.

  Places that hadn’t been touched correctly ever.

  “I’m not sure how you remain so skinny,” he admitted. “If I ate like you do, I’d be about five hundred pounds.”

  I shrugged.

  “I think I got my metabolism from my mom,” I admitted. “I can’t remember a time that she wasn’t skinny. Even when she was pregnant with me, she was skinny. Dad said that it took her forever to show, and even when she did, she was like this really skinny person with a perfectly shaped baby bump. Dad said she had abs when she was eight months pregnant.”

  Banks shook his head. “That’s… not right.”

  I snickered.

  “I’m just hoping that this continues for me,” I admitted. “I mean, I can eat what I want, I look good in my clothes, and I don’t have to exercise to maintain this body. What more could a woman ask for?”

  “Indeed,” he teased. “But one day you might not be that lucky.”

  I knew it.

  “I’ll worry about it if or when that day ever comes,” I said.

  The waitress arrived after that, and I ordered a hamburger and pancakes.

  I also ordered pie when I was done.

  Chapter 13

  Why do porn sites have a ‘share to Facebook’ button?

  -Darby to Banks

  Banks

  It was amazing what one tiny woman could do.

  But she was amazing.

  “I’m sorry, but you’re not allowed to just go around touching people you don’t know.” Candy was literally ripping the woman a new asshole. “First of all, it’s not nice. And second of all, it’s annoying. He should be able to go to a coffee shop and drink a goddamn cup of coffee without people wanting to grab his ass.” She leveled the young buckle bunny with a cold look. “Sexual harassment goes both ways, you know.”

  The woman looked floored that she was being lectured for trying to grab my ass.

  And I was happy as fuck that someone had thought to bring Candy here with me.

  It was like night and day, her being around.

  No longer did I worry about being molested in my trailer.

  It was now day two. We’d arrived yesterday afternoon. We’d spent the night together—a blissful night where yes, we’d both slept on opposite sides of the bed, but still in the same bed.

  From the moment we’d gotten up and gone outside, she’d been at my side.

  We’d eaten breakfast, watched the morning’s events, and now we were at the youth part of the bull riding events. My first event would be later on this evening.

  Candy had been a rock at my side, smiling and laughing with people, but also being sly enough to keep them at a distance.

  ‘Them’ being the women who would usually flock around me like moths to a flame.

  I wasn’t one to boast about my popularity on the circuit.

  I did pretty well for myself.

  People liked and admired me.

  I was an enig
ma to people.

  I was so understated about my skillset and cool about helping people when needed, that more often than not people came to me for advice and I was more than willing to give it.

  The only problem with that was that with popularity and the winnings, people—ladies—were more than willing to share—or force—their charms where they were unwanted.

  And though some interest was okay, the kind of interest I was getting was tiring and downright annoying at times.

  See, the rodeo circuit had decided that since I was a veteran and winning rodeos left and right now, that they were going to make me the ‘face’ of the rodeo.

  A downhome boy, who suffered tragic loss as a teen, who then went on to join the military, win a Purple Heart, and come home only to join the rodeo that I’d loved so much as a kid.

  Then the sponsors had started to come out of the woodworks, which happened to be what Candy and I were dealing with right now.

  Though, since the trailer was too small for the sponsors and us, we were being forced to do the meetings at a public coffee shop in town where there were ladies galore who didn’t understand boundaries at all.

  Which was where Candy had come in handy today.

  At least until one not-so-caring lady had decided that she didn’t give a fuck if I looked like I was busy in a meeting, or that Candy was practically plastered to my side looking as if she really was my girlfriend instead of my pretend one.

  Which led to now, with Candy letting her ire be known to the woman who’d come over, plopped her ass right down in the empty seat next to mine, and started petting my chest as if she knew me.

  “I’m sorry,” the woman stuttered. “I’m just…”

  “You’re just what?” Candy pushed. “Rude?”

  I brought my coffee up as Candy pushed even farther between me and the woman who’d sat down next to me, taking a drink. At this point, Candy’s ass was right next to my face, brushing my arm and making me think naughty things.

  “He never mentioned he had a girlfriend.” The woman continued to try to defend her actions.

  It wasn’t going to work. Not today.

  Thank God Candy was there.

  I could handle my own, and in fact would’ve rebuffed her easily, but it was nice to have someone there to do it without having to listen to all the reasons why that was a bad idea. Or have her grope me and try to rub herself on me while I tried to gently extricate myself from the situation.

  “He doesn’t need to have a girlfriend. Everybody should respect boundaries. It’s okay to come talk to him. It’s not okay to take a seat at his table without first inquiring if it’s okay to sit down. Then, following permission, you should then hold a conversation with him, without groping him or touching him. You should try it sometime,” Candy snarled.

  My prospective sponsor started to chuckle.

  Dean Worthers was the CEO of a company that made chaps. He was in the process of trying to convince me to wear his chaps for my upcoming eighteen bull riding events this year when the woman had interrupted.

  Bryce Tanner, another prospective sponsor who sold dip, also sat there grinning like a lunatic.

  The woman finally stood from her seat next to me and said, “Well, I don’t have to stay and deal with this abuse.”

  Candy scoffed loudly.

  “You shouldn’t have come over here in the first place,” Candy all but bit out.

  That was when Bryce started to chuckle.

  The woman stomped off, and Candy finally removed her ass from my arm as she stalked back to her seat.

  Retaking it, she scooted up closer to the table, reached for her coffee, and angrily took a sip.

  “The nerve,” she muttered darkly.

  My lip kicked up at the corner in a half smirk.

  “See what I mean?” I asked her.

  She rolled her eyes at me.

  “This is partially your fault,” she said. “If you weren’t so freakin’ nice all the time, nicely telling any women that come up to you to ‘please don’t touch me’ or ‘please give us a moment’ then they might actually respect your boundaries. But Jesus. You can’t even talk sharply to a woman. It’s like a freakin’ train wreck waiting to happen.” She paused. “Why is it that you can be mean to people you know, but not to strangers?”

  “If it makes you feel better,” Dean said, leaning forward in his chair. “His ‘nice guy’ persona is what draws people like me to him. Despite the fact that he could, and does, deserve to have a big head due to his success, he is down to earth and courteous. He’s also very family friendly and has zero skeletons in his closet. That’s like a match made in heaven where we’re concerned. All pluses and no risks.”

  Candy sighed.

  “But in the meantime, he has women trying to drug him. Entering his trailer without permission and getting naked on his bed,” she countered. “One day, what if they succeed?”

  Dean didn’t have anything to say to that, and neither did I.

  To be honest, they wouldn’t succeed.

  When this entire fucking spiel was mentioned to Candy by my family, I wasn’t sure what it was that they were trying to accomplish. I mean, sure, the near drugging and breaking in had happened.

  Also, I’d been stalked by numerous ladies, to the point where they were now trying to follow me home to the farm.

  And yes, I was having a problem keeping them off of me without being mean like I usually was.

  But, again, I was a grown ass man.

  I could handle it myself.

  But seeing Candy handling everything for me? Major turn on.

  And having my family suggest that she come with me to ‘protect’ me?

  Damn, that was genius.

  I’d have to make sure to get Callum and Desi an extra special present this year to say thank you.

  “Let’s talk sponsorships,” Dean suggested, very interested in changing the subject.

  “Agreed,” Bryce said. “With our team sponsoring you, we have a few stipulations.”

  I sat back in my seat and waited, hearing the first few that were fairly normal to hear.

  No drug use. No excessive partying and drinking. No fighting.

  But then I started to hear the non-usual ones.

  “There’s also a clause that I know you’re probably not going to like,” Bryce said.

  I gestured with an impatient gesture of my hand. “Out with it.”

  “There’s going to be a ‘no getting married allowed’ clause,” he said.

  I blinked. Then blinked again.

  “Well shit,” Candy said, slapping her hand on the table. “What the fuck are we supposed to do now?”

  I shot Candy a warm look.

  “What kind of stipulation is that?” I asked curiously.

  He shot Candy an apologetic look.

  “Originally there was a clause in there that you couldn’t be intimately attached, either,” Bryce said. “But I made them take that out when I heard that you were with her. This morning before we came, actually.”

  I raised a brow at him.

  “What does that matter?” I pushed.

  “A big selling point,” Dean pushed into the conversation, “is that you’re a bachelor. The ladies love you. You being single gives them false hope that one day you’ll be there to make their dreams come true.”

  “But that would never happen,” I interjected.

  “No,” Bryce agreed. “But that’s also why that’s a clause that’s in ours, too. You being single—or at least not married—makes you a thousand times more appealing in the eyes of single women. And, sadly, there aren’t enough women interested in the sport or bull riding. That’s our target audience.”

  “Y’all sell dip and chaps,” Candy said, sounding disgusted. “Women won’t buy either of those.”

  “No,” Bryce agreed. “But studies have shown that women will for their men. Men are going to buy what they’re going to buy
. No amount of advertising on our part will change that. But women, on the other hand, are very visual creatures. They see a bachelor like Banks in a pair of our chaps, using Dean’s chewing tobacco, and you can bet your ass that they’re going to buy it for that alone.”

  Candy frowned.

  “What did you buy today while you were window shopping?” Bryce asked. “Y’all were talking about it when you walked in.”

  I grinned at Candy, who flushed.

  “I bought a pair of boots,” she answered.

  “How did you see the boots?” he pushed.

  Candy sighed. “A model was wearing them on a rodeo flyer that was hanging by the concession stand.”

  Bryce grinned.

  “Exactly,” Dean said. “So, let’s just say, if Banks remains ‘less tied down,’ or at least appears that way, then that works better for us. We’re not saying that you can’t date. We’re not saying that you can’t be serious…we’re just asking that you wait until our contract expires in a year to get married.”

  Candy sighed.

  “Our wedding isn’t planned until next Christmas anyway,” she joked. “So, I guess that your clause is a moot point.”

  I gripped her thigh underneath the table, causing her to squirm.

  She tossed a look at me over her shoulder and grinned.

  “You’re not wearing a ring,” Dean said. “Good.”

  Candy rolled her eyes.

  “Is your name really Candy Ray Sunshine?” Dean asked.

  Candy tilted her head slightly and said, “Yeah. Why?”

  Dean shrugged. “It just sounds like a…”

  “If you say stripper name, I’m going to come over this table and punch you in the throat with my new boot heels,” Candy threatened.

  Bryce coughed.

  I outright laughed.

  Dean grinned.

  “I was going to say it sounds like you’re the product of a flower child like me,” he said. “My name is Dean Sunray.”

  That was news to me.

  The prim and proper Dean didn’t look like he’d have a middle name of ‘Sunray.’

  “Yeah,” Candy sighed. “They were definitely high on the good stuff when I was born. I’m not sure what they were thinking, and I’m not sure why I was cursed with my name, but I totally work it now. Even though it’ll be easy as hell to change it at this point.”