Page 33 of CHOICE Lover
Feeding into her amusement, he growls, “You’ll have to kill me first!”
“Oh God, don’t encourage them!”
The cowboys raise their six-shooters. “Look inta the black eye o’ my pistol, for it’ll be the last ye’ll ever see, ye ken!”
Their horse prances nervously, its ears twitching. Beneath them, the ground shakes. The horse takes a few unsteady steps toward the cliff’s edge.
Res6 squeezes her tighter. “This can’t be good.”
A shriek rips from her chest as the ground drops out from beneath them and they tumble. Her stomach lurches as rocks race down the cliff beside them, followed by a chorus of yeehaws that echoes over the distance.
“Hold on!” Res6 calls.
She throws herself forward, wrapping her arms around the horse’s neck. The machine flops in the opposite direction. She slides up its neck, and the horn digs into her pelvis. Trying to ease the discomfort, she shimmies but slips. The side of her face slides against the cool metal, the safety glasses screeching as they dig into her skin. When her cheekbone brushes something knobby, there’s a click.
Suddenly the horse stills, righting itself. She slumps back down its neck, the horn digging into her ass. “Oh my God, I think I stopped it.” Her voice is unsteady but relieved. Res6 lifts her off the horn, settlingher back into the saddle. The simulation dissolves into a benign prairie once again.
The system, in a cheery feminine tone, announces,"Guests are allotted ten minutes to disembark the animal and return to the staging area, at which time the room will rearrange for the picnic activity."
“I just need a second,” she says, noting her mildly panicked breath. “I didn’t expect that to feel so real.”
He holds up one of the little squishy fake bullets so she can see. “In a way it was.” He flicks the bullet to the ground, and she notes the dozens of others, plus a few clinging to her chaps. “I’m sorry . . .” He hesitates. “I didn’t mean to cause you more trauma.”
She huffs a laugh. “I’m fine. A little shaken, but it’s all good. That was a great introduction to what the simulation chambers are capable of,” she says, trying to make light of the mildly perilous situation. His intentions were good and she doesn’t want him to feel bad or discouraged since he’s trying. It’s not like he put her in real danger.
“True,” he says, shoulders trembling as if he’s chuckling.
The warmth of his chest seeps into her back. He doesn’t budge. Only releases a deep sigh, relaxes into their position, and slips an arm around her waist, which makes her feel . . . comforted? Is Res6, the inventor of the horrid manupartners, managing to comfort her? Impossible. He probably needs a minute, too. “That excitement was quite unexpected,” she says.
His arm tightens, as if he doesn’t want the moment to end. “Agree. I’ll speak with—”
“No, don’t get the nice woman at the front desk in trouble. We probably pushed the wrong button,” she says, indulgently leaning her head back against his chest. When was the last time she leaned against anyone? Maybe her dad, when she was in middle school? It feels nice. Too nice. Ever since she woke up in this new world, all she’s wanted isfor someone to hug her and tell her everything will be okay. He doesn’t stop her.
A few moments of comfortable silence pass before a big red digital clock appears in front of them, counting down from four minutes. “I guess we’d better disembark,” she says.
He swings down from the saddle before reaching up to help her off. When they are safely back in the staging area, she peeks under the blanket covering the food. “What surprises do you think are in here?”
“I know what I asked for, but your guess is as good as mine,” he says, removing his chaps. He folds them and replaces them in the bin, then turns her toward him and unbuckles her blue pair. The action is so surprising, she lets him do it. But that isn’t him being caring, she reminds herself. He’s used to having a manupartner. Maybe they can’t undress themselves. That’s it.
“Haggis sandwiches?” she asks, tossing the safety glasses into a bin labeled Discard Reusable Items Here. Surely the peril is over. “Oh, I know, cow tongue burgers? That matches the theme.”
Res6’s nose wrinkles. “That sounds incredibly unappealing. If we fish out any theme-related lunch items, we’re reporting the woman at the front desk.”
“Agreed.” She takes the blanket and he follows her, carrying the basket to the center of the room. Once they have it set up, and the thankfully-not-gross veggie burgers plated, she settles onto the blanket, watching as he does the same.
The gold of the field brings out the gold of him: his eyes, the shiny blond of his hair, his warm skin, the stubble on his sharp jaw. He’s truly, unfairly beautiful.
He ruins it by opening his mouth. “What?”
“Nothing. I was just wondering what you hoped to accomplish with this excursion. Is fake horseback riding a thing in the future? Or are we going to get chased by gun-toting bandits often?”
He takes a long breath and releases it dramatically. “Is it a cop-out if I repeat that your guess is as good as mine?”
“Yes,” she says, taking a bite. “This is good, by the way. I’m ready for a real answer.”
He frowns. “How about I read somewhere that horseback riding was de-stressing?”
“You mean distressing?”
