Page 1 of Rough Ride

1

Sophie

“The smell is definitely my least favorite part of this job.” Liz wrinkled her nose.

The scent of leather and hay drifted through the cool night air as Liz and I weaved between rows of dust-coated trailers, each one a temporary home for the cowboys participating in the Fort Worth Rodeo. Diesel trucks sat idling, their headlights casting long shadows across the gravel. Boots crunched against the dirt, spurs jingling with every step, and I caught glimpses of rodeo life in its rawest form—bronzed hands tightening saddle straps, a cowboy leaning against his rig tuning a guitar, a young rider brushing down his horse, whispering promises of a good run tomorrow. The glow of string lights outlined a makeshift corral, where a few horses shifted in the darkness, their tails swishing as if in time with the faint hum of country music spilling from an open trailer door.

I shifted my stack of fliers from one hand to the other and glanced sideways at Liz. “That’s your least favorite part? Not all the ogling?”

“I like the ogling.” We reached one trailer where a tan cowboy old enough to be my grandpa raised his wrinkled eyes to us.Liz’s voice became melodic with a thick country accent. “Howdy, cowboy! If you’re lookin’ for some fun between events, come down to Billy Bob’s!”

She handed the man a flier, but his eyes never left her cleavage. “Might do that.” I could feel his smile on us long after we continued along.

“I don’t know.” I looked down at my sleeveless plaid shirt tied at the waist to expose a few strategic inches of midriff, and the jean shorts that were a size too small. “This is my least favorite part of the job.”

“You should appreciate the stares more than me,” Liz insisted.

“I don’t mind that,” I said, which was the truth. I’d gotten used to being ogled for my bartending job. It came with the territory. I had learned to let the lustful stares of strangers roll off me like rain on a rain jacket.

I kept that metaphorical rain jacket on most of the time these days.

“It’s the outfit that I’m sick of,” I added. “My shorts are so far up my ass I can almost taste them.”

Liz barked a laugh that caused a female rider to glance up from brushing her piebald horse.

“I can ignore a little discomfort in exchange for feeling beautiful every time I leave the house,” Liz said.

I squinted over at her. “You have a newborn! And a two-year-old!”

“Exactly! I worked hard to get my body back to this.” She gestured down at herself. “I want it to be appreciated.”

“You have a husband, too!”

“He appreciates me properly, don’t worry,” Liz said with a wink. “And he doesn’t mind me being a little flirty at work. We need the tips. Do you have any idea how expensive daycare is?”

“I don’t know. A hundred bucks a week?”

Liz barked another laugh. “Stop joking around and guess.”

“That… was my guess. Is it more?”

“You’re an order of magnitude off. Every daycare place we’ve talked to is close to athousand dollarsa week.”

“Liz, oh my God!” I said in shock. “For that price, you should get a live-in nanny.”

“Absolutely not,” Liz immediately said. “I’ve read enough cheesy romance books to know what nanniesreallydo during the day.”

“Cheesy romance novels aren’t real life,” I pointed out. “And Travis would never cheat on you.”

“Don’t care. No nannies.” She sighed. “But the point I was trying to make is that I need all the tip money I can get.”

We approached the next camp area, where two men—a brunette and a blond—were arguing. It wasn’t heated, but it looked like it might get worse in a few seconds. They were young, maybe in their twenties.

Suddenly, they realized we were watching. Both men turned to stare at us.

And they weregorgeous.

The stack of fliers slipped out of my hand and hit the ground, fluttering in all directions.

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