Page 17 of Rough Ride

I smiled at him. “You haveno idea.”

Unlike all the other customers I interacted with, I actuallyenjoyedflirting with these two. It was a little more genuine, a little more fun. I told myself it was because I was bored, and needed a way to break up the monotony of my shift.

“So, how long have you lived in Fort Worth?” Johnny asked while staring at the second shot of whiskey in front of him.

I wagged my finger at him. “Sorry. I don’t talk about myself at work.”

“Ah, come on,” Eli prodded. “It’s bad luck to drink with someone and not make polite small talk.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Who says it’s bad luck?”

“Me.” Eli shrugged. “It’s a rule I made up five seconds ago, but itfeelstrue, doesn’t it? Eh?” He gave me his best smile.

Damn. These guys were good. I was actually enjoying this.

I threw back my shot, which didn’t burn like the first one. Groaning, Johnny did the same—followed by Eli.

Another customer was waving in my direction, so I moved a few feet down the bar and took his order. After a few minutes, I wandered back over to the area where Eli and Johnny were sitting.

“I’m a superstitious woman,” I admitted, “and I don’t want to incur any bad luck. Even from a rule you just made up.”

Eli pumped a fist.

“I’ll answer one personal question for every shot you guys take with me,” I said. “Deal?”

“Deal,” both of them said at once.

“And since we’ve already had two shots,” Eli clarified, “we get two questions. Right?”

“That’s fine,” I agreed. “But I already told you one personal thing: I’m superstitious. Which means you get one question now.”

“I already asked it,” Johnny said, cocking his head to the side. “How long have you lived in Fort Worth?”

“My whole life,” I admitted truthfully. “My dad moved here in the eighties to work at Lockheed Martin.”

“I dated a woman who used to work at Lockheed,” Johnny admitted. “She worked on the F-35 project.”

“Yeah, whatever, nobody cares about you,” Eli said, clamping a hand over Johnny’s mouth. “But I like that line of questioning. Areyoudating anyone, Sophie?”

I smiled sweetly and poured three shots, once again pressing my thumb into the nozzle to change the flow. Wordlessly, I gestured at the shots.

Johnny groaned, but Eli downed his shot without hesitation. Looking sideways at his brunette frenemy, Johnny then followed suit. “You were right. It’s good whiskey.”

“I didn’t say it was good. I said it was the best.” I threw back my own shot of flavorless liquid. “And the answer to your question: I am not dating anyone right now.”

“Yes, okay, interesting,” Eli said. Johnny only nodded thoughtfully at his empty shot glass.

A man old enough to be my grandpa leaned across the bar. “Did I just hear you’re single, sweetheart?”

“You did,” I replied, looking him up and down, “but I’m notthatsingle.”

The man’s buddies all roared with laughter, and he grimaced and shrugged, red-faced from the barb.

“Feisty,” Eli muttered to himself while giving me an appraising look.

“Next question,” Johnny said. “What’s your type?”

“My type?”

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