Page 22 of Rough Ride

I didn’t trust my voice, so I only nodded.

Eli took a step toward me, a step withintention. God, I wanted to see what he intended, what he wanted, what heneeded.There was a promise in his brown eyes that I wanted to make him keep.

But Johnny reached me first, spinning me around and pushing me against the shelves. A liquor bottle smashed to the floor just as Johnny’s lips smashed against mine, full of desperate need. I moaned, my body coming alive underneath his touch as he pushed into me, proving what I had wondered all along.

These weren’t like my normal customers. Iwantedthese two to want me.

And they did.

Then Eli was wedging his way between us, elbowing Johnny out of the way and taking over. His lips connected with mine like we had been lovers for years, his hand sliding between my legs with erotic familiarity. I gasped, interrupting our hungry kiss, and Eli smiled against my lips.

“Been waiting a while for this, darlin’,” he crooned. “Beendreamingabout what I’m about to do to you.”

“What’s that?” I breathed. “What are you about to do to me?”

“The same thing I’m about to do to you,” Johnny said, coming up behind me and dragging his lips against the back of my neck.

I felt that third pair of eyes again, and glanced to my left. There, at the very end of the room by the stage, Sawyer stood with a full bottle of TX Whiskey. He leaned against the wall, took a long pull from the liquor, and gave me a smile that promised he had intentions every bit as scintillating as Eli and Johnny.

Sawyer opened his mouth, and music came out.

*

I blinked asEspressoby Sabrina Carpenter played in my bedroom, triggered by my radio alarm. Why was I here? Why wasn’t I at the bar? What happened?

No. It had all been a dream. I slapped at my alarm and closed my eyes, wishing I could teleport back to the bar in my dreams, the bar filled with three delicious cowboys who wanted to fight over me.

But it was too late. I was awake.

No no nono.

I let out a loud groan. Someone should invent an alarm clock that automatically hit snooze when you were having a sexy dream.

As I showered and got ready, I replayed the dream in my mind. It wasn’t a big deal. I’d had plenty of sex dreams about people I had met in real life. Sometimes they involved men I wasn’t even attracted to, like the chubby barista with the giant mole on his nose.

My dream didn’t mean anything.

“It means you need to getlaid,” Liz said as we walked into the YMCA in downtown Fort Worth. I preferred running outside in the fresh air, but that wasn’t possible in January. My hands froze when the weather dipped below 70 degrees, even when I wore gloves.

“I don’t need to get laid,” I replied.

Liz let out a cartoonishly-loud scoff. “How long has it been?”

“I’m fine.”

“Since you and Trent broke up. Right?”

“I don’t want to talk abouthim,” I said testily.

Liz put her arm around me and gave me a little squeeze. “Sorry, babe. I won’t say the T-word again.”

I let out a sigh. “Sorry for snapping. You’re right, I do need to get laid. It hasn’t been easy to put myself out there. The only other time was right after Trent, when I was on the rebound.”

Liz emphatically shook her head. “No. We’re pretendingthatone-night stand never happened.”

“Agreed.”

Liz smiled warmly at me. “Everything you feel is valid. But you can’t push everyone away just because you dated one asshole. They’re not all like him.”

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