Page 51 of Rough Ride

While waiting for one of them to open up, I got on the treadmill and did some light jogging for ten minutes. I kept glancing to my left, into the weight room where I could see Sawyer. His tank top seemed two sizes too small, practically glued to his powerful torso. The veins of his arms bulged against the skin, working hard to circulate blood to all those muscles. Sweat dripped down the side of his head as he bench pressed at least two hundred pounds. After one particularly strenuous set, he sat up, and a bead of sweat rolled down his cheek and settled on his chiseled jawline. Against my will, I imagined brushing it off with my thumb, feeling the roughness of his unshaved stubble.

Liz was right: he was sexy. Annoyingly so. But as she’d said, he was nice to look at. I didn’t have to like anything else about him to appreciate that body.

When I climbed off the treadmill, both squat racks were still in use. And Liz was still on the stairmaster. I walked into the weight room and looked around for an alternative.

“You need this?” Sawyer called from twenty feet away, gesturing at the rack.

“I’m fine.”

“You keep eyeing my spot,” he said. His tone made it seem like he was always growling. “If you need it, we can share.”

“I said I’m fine,” I replied, moving over to one of the bench press stations instead. It had adjustable pegs, allowing me to raise the bar up to squat level. But it didn’t have the safety rails on the side in case I failed a set.

That was fine. I wasn’t planning on squatting heavy weight today.

I added plates to the bar and began my workout. Occasionally, I glanced over at Sawyer; he was tough to ignore when he racked the barbell, metal banging together loudly. Soon my thoughts drifted to the other cowboys I had been around lately. Eli flirting with me last night. The sizzling, sweaty fun I’d had with Johnny.

I chuckled to myself. What had gotten into me? It was like I was a teenager again, swooning over every damn cowboy that crossed my path.

It was the confidence, I decided. Nothing was sexier than a man with confidence, so long as it didn’t cross over into arrogance. And Eli’s performance last night took alotof confidence. I couldn’t imagine walking up on stage and playing a guitar at the drop of a hat, in front of a room full of strangers. That’s what made him a good rodeo competitor, I supposed.

As I began my third set of squats, I kept thinking about the way he called medarlin’,with a little extra country twang. I normally hated when customers called me darling or sweetie or baby, but I kind of liked it when it came from Eli. The same as Johnny calling me Sky Eyes. They weren’t like the other customers that harassed me at Billy Bob’s. No, they were something different.

I was so distracted that I lost track of my reps; thinking about Eli and Johnny had given me a burst of energy while I moved upand down. But now I was in the down position, pushing upward, and I realized I had made a mistake. The strength was gone from my legs; I couldn’t complete the squat. I was stuck halfway, my body beginning to tremble as I pushed with futile effort.

Oh no!

As my legs began to falter, Sawyer was suddenly at my side. “I got you,” he said, sounding surprisingly reassuring. He moved into my personal space, pressing his body against my side and back as he got his shoulder underneath the bar. Then his powerful thighs flexed and he helped me raise the bar back up to the rack. The final push forward brought our bodies together in a jumble of sweat and exhaled effort.

It only lasted a fraction of a second—then he stepped back, out of my space. But I could still feel him there, body heat and sweat and a powerful musky scent.

“Thank you,” I managed to say.

Any softness that had crossed his face now disappeared, and his scowl returned. “That’s why you should have shared the squat rack with me. Safety bars in case you fail a set.”

I was embarrassed about the whole ordeal, so I snapped, “Did you come over to help, or to lecture me?”

He sneered at me, bit off a terse, “You’re welcome,” then returned to his own squat rack.

Feeling mortified that I had nearly failed in a room full of people, I grabbed my towel and rushed out of the gym.

23

Sophie

My embarrassment faded as the day went on, but the memory of Sawyer’s body did not. I relived the whole interaction while Ubering people around Fort Worth all morning and into the afternoon. While serving beer at the rodeo, I thought about the heat radiating off his bare skin while he pushed into me, shouldering the weight of the barbell. When I drove to Billy Bob’s for my evening shift, his smell permeated my nose, like the scent of sweat and musk was stuck to the inside of my nose.

Damn. I had it bad for every freaking cowboy I came across.

“It’s just like how it was before I dated Trent,” I told Liz while we clocked-in at Billy Bob’s. “I’m extremely attracted to cowboys again. Johnny, Eli, even Sawyer…”

“There’s no shame in that,” she reassured me. “Cowboys are hot. Those three specific cowboys are especially attractive. It’d be weird if you weren’t into them.”

“I thought I had grown older and wiser,” I complained. “I thought I had moved on. But here I am, totally enamored by the freaking rodeo guys.”

“Again, there’s no shame in that,” Liz insisted. “Although… did you intentionally struggle with the barbell? To get Sawyer to save you?”

I whirled to face her. “What? Of course not!”

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