Page 29 of Rough Ride

“Make it two, darlin’,” Eli said, holding up two fingers.

“Coming right up.” I filled two glasses with ice. “I saw the performances today. You got robbed, Eli.”

He slapped his palm down on the bar. “Ididget robbed. I swear Chrissy Applefart bribes the judges. His bronco was like a newborn kitten compared to what I had to ride.”

“If it makes you feel any better, most of the crowd agreed,” I said.

He leaned one arm on the bar and gave me his best smile. “You know, thatdoesmake me feel better. Thank you, darlin’.” He jerked a thumb at Johnny. “What’d you think ofhisperformance?”

I gave the blond man a sad smile.

“You don’t have to say anything else,” Johnny told me. “I don’t much feel like hearing it. I just came here to let you know I’m going to leave you alone.”

I blinked. “Oh?”

He nodded. “I can’t afford to blow the other events. My livelihood depends on my performance here. So this is the last night I’ll be visiting the honky tonk.”

Another customer slid around him and placed a half-finished glass of beer on the bar. Johnny sniffed the air and then wrinkled his nose.

“In fact, I’ll probably give up alcohol for the rest of the rodeo,” he added. “Or the rest of the year. Or the rest of my life.”

“Aw, that’s the defeat talkin’,” Eli said. “After you win the Steer Wrestling event next week, I’m draggin’ your ass back here and buying you a victory beer.”

“If I win that event,” Johnny said, “I’ll let you.” He accepted his soda water and tipped his hat to me. “Sorry for all the trouble, Sky Eyes. Have a good night.”

A deep sadness spread through my chest as he walked away.

Eli watched him, then turned back to me and cleared his throat. “Now that Mr. Buzzkill is out of the way, we can get down to business. I’m still single, and have recently scoredsecond placein the Saddle Bronc Riding event.” He reached beneath his flannel shirt and pulled out a silver medal. “But I won’t be going shot-for-shot with you any time soon. No ma’am.”

He gave me a wink, then joined Johnny at a table on the other side of the room near the stage where a guitar player was strumming.

“You actually did it,” Liz said to me. “You stopped a guy from flirting with you without slapping him.”

“This is the part where a good friend would tell me I shouldn’t feel guilty.”

Liz grimaced. “I don’t know, Sophie. He looked pathetic in Dickies tonight, and is nursing that soda water like a sad puppy. I think you broke him.”

Ugh. So much for not feeling guilty.

The flow of customers and drinks distracted me for a little while, but I kept glancing across the room. Johnny and Eli were turned away from me, facing the musician playing the guitar on stage. They were indeed ignoring me, as promised.

But I didn’t feel happy about it.

I felt like an asshole.

As the evening dragged on, I thought about what had happened last night. Johnny had pushed me, asking personal questions. I wasn’t a stranger to that, not at work, but last night was the first time I had ever answered a guy truthfully.

I opened up to him about my ex, Trent.

That’s not who I was. I didn’t let people in; I kept them at arm’s length. I certainly didn’t tell them about the worst thing that had ever happened to me, my greatest shame. That was a part of my life I had never toldanybodyother than Liz and my parents.

Yet when Johnny asked, it all just came flowing out.

Why had I done that?

Sure, I’d had a few shots. But they hadn’t really kicked in yet when I told him about Trent. I wasn’t even buzzed, let alone spill-my-secrets drunk.

There was something about him, and about Eli too, that I was strangely drawn to. It reminded me of the way I felt when I first met Trent three years ago. He was so ruggedly handsome, sorealin a way that very few men were. Johnny and Eli had that same quality. Completely genuine. Open and warm and unique.

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