Page 50 of Rough Ride

22

Sophie

“He’s playing a game with you,” Liz said as we walked to the gym the next morning. “And based on how you’re reacting? It’s working.”

“It’s not working,” I said stubbornly, but she was right. I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Eli since last night. I had struggled to fall asleep because of it. Even now, I could feel the rough stubble on his skin brushing against my cheek, as if the not-really-a-kiss had happened just minutes ago rather than last night.

Liz gave me a judging look. “Two days ago, you were swearing off cowboys. Now you’ve slept with one, and are mooning over another. What happened?”

“I opened the flood gates!” I whined. “It’s like when you break a diet, and gorge yourself on junk food because if you’re going to break it a little bit, you might as well break it a lot.” We walked into the gym and scanned our passes. “I guess this means I’m finally over Trent, though.”

“Not just Trent,” Liz said slyly. “Trent and your rebound—”

“I donotwant to talk about him,” I interrupted.

“Yes, I know,” Liz groaned. “But eventually you’re going to tell me all the details of what happened with that guy.”

“I promise to eventually do that.”

We walked into the weight room, and Liz stopped in her tracks. “Speaking of smoldering cowboys…”

I immediately knew who she was referring to, but I groaned when I got confirmation. There was Sawyer, dirty-blond hair darkened with sweat, adding plates to a barbell in one of the squat racks. He glanced in our direction, then did a double-take when he recognized us. He returned his attention to the weights, shaking his head and chuckling to himself.

“What are you laughing at?” I asked him as we walked past.

“I wasn’t,” he replied in that deep, brooding voice.

“Yes,” I insisted. “You were.”

His dark eyes collided with my gaze. “I was just laughing at how some people don’t know how to mind their own business.”

“Wow, good one,” Liz said sarcastically.

Sawyer rolled his eyes and lowered himself to the bench to begin his next set.

“Ugh, it pisses me off how hot he is,” Liz whispered when we were on the other side of the room. “All the assholes are.”

“He’s not that hot,” I said.

She gave me a look.

“Okay, he’s extremely sexy,” I admitted. “But I don’t like that kind of guy. Always brooding, like he’s looking for a fight. I grew out of that kind of angst in high school.”

“I don’t care what personality a guy has. When he looks likethat, he can do whatever he wants to me.”

“Says the married woman.”

“Oh, be quiet,” she teased. “You know I’m just looking. Okay, I’m jumping on the stairmaster.”

“Wait, really?”

“I saw a TikTok video explaining that the stairmaster is the best way to burn fat and gain muscle,” Liz said.

“That app is rotting your brain.”

“I know, but I don’t care!” She playfully slapped her towel at me. “Come get me before you leave.”

The stairmaster machine was over in the corner, but I was doing weights today. Unfortunately, both squat racks were occupied—one of them by Sawyer, and the other currently being used by three gym bros with backwards baseball caps.

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