Not My Match (The Game Changers #2) - Ilsa Madden-Mills Page 0,1
realize that Rodeo must have been standing on something—a box or a ladder—when he snapped his bio pic. Taking a sip of my drink, I squint, trying to picture us having sex. I’m five-nine, so how would that even work? I’m really into eye contact, and if we had sex missionary-style, then his head would land somewhere between my breasts and my stomach. He’d have to crane his neck to look up at me. Maybe I’ll buy some Ken and Barbie dolls, cut Ken’s legs off at the correct ratio, and test it out. A shame, but sometimes science requires sacrifice. When you don’t have a clue, testing is important. I never want to be unprepared. My curiosity isn’t because I plan on having sex with Rodeo—heck no, I just love random tidbits to squirrel away.
“You come to the Razor a lot, honey?” Rodeo asks, attempting more conversation as the other girl wanders off. His dark eyes hold mine over the rim of his frosted mug of draft beer. At least he isn’t ogling my breasts any longer—no, he gave that up when I slipped on my navy blazer and buttoned it up to the collar. A bead of sweat drips down my back. It’s August in the South, over a hundred degrees outside, and if I don’t get out of this club soon, I’m going to pass out.
“No. I’ve never been here. I don’t get out much. I’m a grad student and teach—”
He nods, interrupting me. “It’s close to my apartment is why I picked it.” A pause. “It’s hard meeting girls online.”
At that remark, at the hint that maybe he’s not the jackass he appears to be, I relax a little. Maybe he was just babbling about watching baby alligators die.
I infuse my voice with interest and ask the number one question Mama always asks me about my dates. “Are you employed?”
He fingers his gold belt buckle and chuckles. “Not a desk job like most. I’m the reigning Ride ’Em Till You Die champion for the past three years. I made a million dollars last year in the circuit. You into rodeo guys?”
“I love horses,” I push out, floundering to find a commonality between us. “I grew up outside Nashville, a small town called Daisy—”
“Whips, saddles, spurs, bridles—I’ve got it all at home if that’s your kink,” he interjects with a sly tone as he goes from nice to sleazy in a blink, the insinuation of it making me squirm as I shift around on my stool. A dark chuckle comes from him. “You look uptight, but I bet your waters run deep, honey.”
Uptight. He gets a gold star for that. My ex-fiancé, Preston, would agree.
He continues, tugging me away from the dark path those thoughts want to lead me down. “And I know what you’re thinking—I’m short. Most girls do at first, but just you wait, ’cause what’s in my pants is a God-given gift. Ain’t had one complaint since I started. Been riding fillies for a long time, and they always come back for more of what I got.” His lids lower as he gives his crotch an endearing, loving look, as if his small head is sentient and listening.
There you go.
My first instinct was right. Death sentence. Must escape.
After turning away from him and looking at the mirror across the bar, I watch as red creeps up my face. My hair is chaos, the blonde strands once in a sleek chignon now dangling next to my temple, the finer hairs sticking to my damp forehead. My pink lipstick has faded, and there are smudges of mascara under my eyes from the heat.
I push my black glasses up on my nose and swipe at a bead of sweat on my forehead. Why am I even wearing a stupid blazer in the middle of the hottest summer on record? My fingers toy with the top button, loosening it a little.
Rodeo sees me unbuttoning my jacket, and his eyes light up. He takes a step closer, and now his checkered shirt is brushing against my breasts, and I see his nose hairs. His smell wafts around me: spicy, male, kind of leathery—horsey.
I lean farther away, arching until I bump into the person next to me. Without glancing back, I mumble an apology and straighten myself on the stool.
Rodeo indicates my empty tumbler, his tone low and husky. “You want another drink? That whiskey you sucked down is long gone.”