5 - Sophie
5
Sophie
I pulled my car over in front of the hotel, where a young woman waited. “Jill?” I asked.
“Sophie?” she confirmed, looking down at her phone. Probably checking the Uber app to confirm the car model.
There were worse jobs than driving for Uber during the day. Most customers were quiet, and I liked driving around town. It helped me think. The most annoying part was keeping my car pristine.
There usually wasn’t a lot of demand during the day, but things were busier during the rodeo. Lots of people from out-of-town wanted to do all the touristy things in Fort Worth: visiting the Stockyards, the zoo, or the Botanical Gardens.
The hours passed quickly as I chauffeured people around town. All of them were tourists, with the exception of a TCU student who was going to the airport.
Around lunchtime, I was sitting at a red light in downtown Fort Worth with a customer who was returning to their hotel. To my left, a runner went by on the sidewalk. He caught my eye because he was shirtless despite the cold January air. Some people were crazy; I made myself run on a treadmill in the frigid winter months.
The light changed, and I drove another block, passing the runner. I glanced over at him…
I did a double-take. It was tough to tell without his cowboy hat, but there was no mistaking the mop of blond hair and statuesque jawline. It was one of the guys from last night. Johnny Armstrong.
I stopped at the next light, and he passed me again. Yeah, it was definitely Johnny.
When the light changed, I asked my passenger, “Do you mind if I pull over for a minute?”
The woman in the back seat muttered something, but I was already pulling off to a side street at the next block where Johnny would cross. I rolled down my window and stuck my head out as he approached. He frowned at my car, which was blocking the walkway, but then broke into a huge grin when he recognized me.
“It’s forty degrees out. You’re going to catch a cold.”
He came to a stop next to my car. “I’m a Colorado boy, Sky Eyes. This weather is downright pleasant . Besides, my body runs hot.”
I couldn’t stop myself from admiring the body in question. He had an even tan, with a few splotches of red because of the cold, but that was the only blemish. His six-pack—no, eight -pack—was so well-defined it could have been painted on, like a tray of delicious dinner rolls. His arms were strong and proportional, hanging loosely from broad shoulders. And peaking up from his running shorts were those irresistible V-lines so few men had.
This man was fine .
“If you head west from here, you’ll hit the Trinity Trail,” I told him. “It goes along the river for a while. Great for running.”
He looked in that direction, bringing his perfect profile into view once more. “That way?” he pointed.
“About a mile.”
“Appreciate the tip,” he said, touching his hand to his eyebrow in a friendly salute. “Hope you’ll be at the opening ceremony tonight.”
“I’ll be serving beer in the crowd.” I couldn’t resist teasing him a little, so I added, “Looking forward to seeing Eli get a bigger cheer than you.”
Johnny’s smile deepened. “Trust me. The crowd reaction to my entrance is always bigger.”
I let my eyes drift downward to the outline in his running shorts. “I’m sure it’s bigger.”
“I was going to come get that victory drink at Billy Bob’s, but if you’re at the rodeo…”
“I’m working both,” I found myself saying. “My shift at Billy Bob’s begins after the rodeo.”
“When do you get off?”
“Usually after my date leaves,” I joked.
Johnny barked a laugh. “I’ve never had that problem.”
My eyes flicked down to his running shorts for a millisecond. “I’m sure you haven’t.”
He gave me another casual salute. “See you tonight, Sky Eyes.” Then he took off jogging in the direction I had recommended.
“Sorry about that,” I said to the customer in the back seat. “I won’t mind if you don’t leave a tip, as long as you don’t give me a poor rating.”
The woman leaned forward to talk to me. “Are you kidding? I want to tip you extra for that show. He’s in the rodeo?”
“Apparently.”
“How long have you two been dating?”
I chuckled. “Oh, no. We’re not dating. I just met him last night.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” she said with a knowing smile. “He has a cute nickname for you. And you two have a lot of chemistry.”
Flustered, I said, “I don’t date rodeo guys.”
She leaned back in her seat and scoffed. “If there was ever a time to break that rule, it’s for that guy. He’s into you. And you seemed like you were into him.”
I laughed it off, but couldn’t help but think about what she said for the rest of the day: you two have a lot of chemistry .
Maybe it was a dumb rule after all.