“We chose that one too.”
“It’s considerably better than the winner for my category. Looks like a saison is going to be the overall best in show.” Porter takes another drink of the beer and nods. “I wouldn’t mind working on a saison recipe with Stout when he feels up to it.”
Wren spins in her chair to look at Porter. “When he feels up to it? What does that mean?”
Well, fuck. Way to go, Porter. I lean behind Wren’s back and throw my hands in the air. I mouth, “What the fuck?”
Maybe now I understand a little better why Stout left this in my hands instead of Porter’s.
He looks at me and then back to Wren. Come on, dude. Pull it together. This is starting to look fishy.
“I just meant he’ll probably be tired from his trip. Traveling usually takes it out of me. I need time to recuperate.” Nice save. I hope.
“Oh, yeah. I’m sure you’re right.” That’s all she says.
Damn, we dodged a bullet that time. I’m pretty sure it’s all thanks to the alcohol she has on board. She might not have let that one go otherwise.
I need to get Wren away from Porter if he’s going to be so careless with his words. “There’s a new band on stage. I think you’ll like them.” That’s a damn lie. I have no idea who’s playing. “I’ve heard they’re really good. Want to check them out?”
She shrugs. “Sure. I’m up for it.”
I swear this is a record for me. I’ve never told so many lies in one evening. Thanks a lot, Stout.
Wren grasps my upper arm and stops dead in her tracks. “What the hell is that thing?”
“A mechanical buffalo. Buck. He’s the mascot for Triple B. Bucking Bison Brewery. They bring him to all the festivals.”
I follow Wren over to the enclosure around Buck. “I guess the concept is the same as a mechanical bull?”
“Yeah. Buck draws a lot of attention at events.” It’s a brilliant marketing strategy. I’m a little jealous we don’t have something like him for Lovibond.
Wren doesn’t take her eyes off the rider on his back. “Can we watch for a minute?”
“If you want to.” I don’t mind. I love watching Buck the buffalo knock cocky bastards on their asses.
The enclosure is surrounded by spectators, but we find an opened spot to stand and watch. “Check out this guy. He looks like he thinks he has this in the bag.” He’s young and fit. Judging by the size of his arms and chest, he spends a lot of time in the gym. He fits the type who’d think he was too tough to be thrown.
Wren gestures toward a group of guys taunting him about a bet regarding how long he’ll stay on the ride. “That has to be his posse.”
“Probably.” Looks like a bunch of frat brothers to me.
I glance over to see who’s running the controls. He’s got the ride of his life coming up. “Billy doesn’t take it easy on his kind. He’ll toss his ass fast.”
“How long does Billy give you before he puts you on your ass?”
Billy may be one of my friends but he has zero mercy on me. He loves to see me get thrown. “Not long. I can promise you that.”
She leans closer and elbows me in my side. “I would love to see you get bucked.” I love the way she just said bucked. Reminds me of fucked.
“I only ride after hours. And following many drinks. That’s when it’s the most fun.” We make a game of it to see how fast each of us can be thrown. Probably not the safest thing in the world to do.
“Drunk bucking?”
She hit the nail on the head. “That’s actually what we call it.”
“I wanna drunk bunk. Drunk buck. Shit, that’s kinda hard to say.” It is after you’ve had drinks.
I’m not sure that’s a great idea. Wren has to be pretty tight. Even I have a buzz and I’m used to lots of drinks. “Stout would kill me if I let you get hurt.”
She rolls her eyes. “You’re as bad as him.”
She’s an adult but I feel responsible for her. “Stout would expect me to watch over you. Keep you safe.”
A quick exhale leaves her lungs. “I won’t get hurt.”
It’s only a matter of seconds before cocky bastard loses his seat on Buck. He plummets to the padded flooring and punches his fist into it. “Motherfucker.”
I’m not at all happy about his use of profanity for anyone around to hear. This is a public event. Just because it’s a beer festival doesn’t mean anything goes.
“That doesn’t sound like happiness in his voice.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
I notice the line of people at the entrance to enter the pen. “There are quite a few people ahead of you. Sure you want to wait? I know a guy. He can get you in after hours. No wait.”
“I’m good with waiting. It’s fine if you need to be somewhere. You can go.”
No way I’m leaving Wren to do this without my supervision. “Nah. I have nowhere to be.”
We watch one after another plummet to the padded flooring until it’s Wren’s turn. “I’m up. Got any pointers for me?”
“Hold on tight.”
“Yeah. I sort of guessed that one.”
“Welcome to the Jungle” by Guns N’ Roses is blaring as Wren climbs onto Buck’s back. She grips the braided rope with one hand and holds the other in the air. “Does this look right?”
“Looks good to me.” Photo worthy.
She adjusts one last time in the saddle. “Okay. I think I’m ready.”
I leave the enclosure and join Billy at the controller. “Go easy on this one.”
“Let me guess. You don't want her hurt because you plan on fucking her later?” I wish.
“No, asshole. She's my business partner’s sister. He'll be pissed off if she gets hurt.” I got Wren drunk. I don’t need to add injured to the list. Neither will go over well with Stout.
“You got it, Tap.”
Wren is sitting astride Buck, her back arched, tits pushed forward, and legs wrapped around him tightly. The position isn’t unlike what I’d imagine if she were riding someone during sex.
There goes my dick twitching again. Man, I gotta stop having sexual fantasies about this woman.
Wren is off limits. Stout said so.
“You can give her a little more.” This should be at least a little bit of fun for her.
Billy spins the buffalo in the opposite direction and Wren nearly comes unseated. “Uh oh. ’Bout lost her then. Not going to take too much more to throw her.”
“Probably not since she helped me judge the home brew contest.” She put away a lot of alcohol for someone who says she never drinks more than a few beers.
Billy spins her one direction and then another. Wren uses her free hand to wave. She looks like she’s having fun.
“Ready for me to knock her off?” She’s been riding for a while.
“Yeah, but do it as gently as possible.”
Billy increases Buck’s speed. “You don't fool me. Business partner’s sister or not, you’re going to fuck this one.”
“Regrettably, I won’t.” I’d love nothing more but I can’t risk my professional relationship with Stout. He’s already been clear where Wren is concerned.
Billy forces the buffalo’s head to dip. Wren holds tightly around its neck as it convulses. “What the hell are you doing? The damn thing looks like it's having a seizure.”
“Maybe, but ain't the view nice?” Wren is head down, ass up, with her skirt hiked high on her thighs. “Ain't that the position you plan on having her in later?”
I’m already having plenty of inappropriate thoughts without him saying and doing shit like that. “Shut up, Billy, and knock her off.”
“Alrighty. Here we go.”
Billy spins the buffalo and lifts the head so the back dips, dumping Wren ass first on the padded floor. Looks like a pretty painless dismount and landing. “Thanks.”
“Anytime. Now go be a gentleman and help your girl up.” My girl?
Wren is lying flat on her back with her arms o
utstretched. Her legs are bent at the knees and spread apart. This isn't helping my problematic case of dick twitch.
She isn’t making a move to get up. Oh, shit. Is she hurt? “You okay?”
“Yeah.” She rises to a sitting position and reaches for my hands. The skin crinkles around the corners of her mouth as laughter erupts. “Oh my God. That was so much fun.”
I pull on Wren’s arms to help her stand. “You stayed up there like an experienced rider.”
She pats her hands against her thighs. “It's the yoga. It strengthens and conditions my legs. I can lock these babies around anything and hang on like a champ.” Fuck. Me. Not helping, Wren.
“Hey, baby. Way to hang on.” Ah. Cocky bastard stuck around to watch Wren ride.
“Thanks. That was my first time so I wasn’t exactly sure what to do.”
“You looked like an expert to me. I’d love for you to ride me like that.” Drunken fucker.
Wren’s back stiffens as her eyes narrow and nostrils flare. She drops her flip-flops on the ground and uses me to balance while she slips into them. “What a dick. Who says something like that to a woman?”
I take a step toward her offender when she releases her hold on me. I have every intention of putting him in his place but she wraps her hand around my bicep. “Don’t. Drunks are belligerent. Confronting them gains nothing. It’s best to walk away.” Does she know this from experience?