by Meg Ripley
“Two seconds to two minutes,” the operator said. “That’s got to be some kind of record. Well done, Marilyn!”
Jesse raises his hand to give me a high five after we return to our table. There wasn’t even a question of whether I would keep sitting with him, despite the fact that he’s already dispensed all that sweet mechanical bull knowledge he promised.
“So, you really seemed to know what you were talking about with that mechanical bull,” I say. “Do you ride horses?”
“Yes, ma’am. I think it’s riding bulls, though, that makes me so good with the mechanical ones.”
My brow furrows. “You’re … a bull-rider?”
There’s that crooked smile again. “What, don’t I look like one?” He tips his cowboy hat at me.
“This is a honkytonk bar,” I huff. “I’m a part of the 5% of this place not wearing a cowboy hat.”
“This ain’t really your scene, huh?” he asks.
I look down, unsure of how to answer. No, of course honkytonk bars are not my scene. In fact, I avoid them like the plague. But if I say that, he might stop smiling at me like that.
“It’s my first time at this particular one,” I say, searching the cluttered wall for something to talk about.
“Annabelle?” Jesse asks after a moment.
“Hang on,” I say, still staring at the wall. “I’m pretty sure that deer over there thinks I stole its soul.”
His gaze follows mine, then he chuckles and shakes his head. “Well,” he says.
A stuffed deer head on the wall thinks you stole its soul? THAT IS NOT A SEXY THING TO TALK TO THE SEXY COWBOY ABOUT, my mind screams at me.
“So, you’re here for the rodeo?” I ask.
“The Daddy of ‘em All,” he replied with a wistful expression. “Yep. It’s taken a long time, but I’ve finally made it to the CFD.”
I smile a little. I’ve always had all of zero interest in the Cheyenne Frontier Days. The main meaning it’s ever had for me is a week and a half in July when it’s noisy 24/7 and all the roads are blocked. I usually try to schedule a lot of work for myself around the rodeo so I have an excuse to stay hunkered down at my apartment. But it’s obviously important to Jesse, and I think that’s kind of sweet. “What events do you do?”
His face lights up. “Bronc riding—bareback and saddled—and bull riding.”
“Wow, so you’re the real deal. No fancy rope tricks for you.”
“Oh, I’ve done plenty of fancy rope tricks in my time.”
“How long have you been doing this?”
“Rodeo life? Since I was a kid. I couldn’t afford tickets to the rodeo back then, but I’d ride my horse Peanut as close as I could get. Eventually they offered me a job cleaning up after the animals, and I worked my way up from there. I started touring with the PRCA as soon as I graduated high school.”
“Where are you from?” I’ve never felt so thirsty to know more about a person.
“Slocomb, Alabama,” he replied. “It’s just a little farm town. Not a nice city like this.”
Even though I know Cheyenne is technically a city, it’s never felt that way to me. It’s still small enough that I know most everyone, or at least recognize their faces. There are too many people for it to be peaceful, but too few for anyone to be able to fade into the crowd.
“Where are you from?” he asks me.
“Here,” I reply. “Born and raised.”
“You grew up in Cheyenne, and yet that was your first time on a mechanical bull?”
I grin. “I’ve never even been on a horse.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Then what do you like?”
“Writing,” I answer instantly.
“What kind of writing?”
“Any kind,” I reply. “I mean, I guess I like writing stories best—that’s what I grew up doing. But mostly I just like getting better and better at using words, you know?”
“Not really.” His blue eyes shine at me. “But I like that you like it.”
“Well, I like that you like riding bulls.”
We smile at each other in silence for a few moments.
“Uh, Annabelle?” Sherry’s come to check up on me. She looks between Jesse and me. “We’re all heading home soon. Did you…?”
Sherry drove me here in her minivan.
“I could take you home, if you’d like,” Jesse says.
Sherry looks at me, asking if this is okay with her eyes.
“Thanks, Jesse,” I tell him. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Sherry.”
Sherry looks between me and Jesse again. “Okay… Call me so I know you got home all right!”
She disappears through the door with the other Beauty Queen Mothers. “So,” Jesse says after they’ve gone. “You’ve never ridden a horse, huh?”
“Never,” I reply.
“Well,” he replies. There’s my friend Mr. Crooked Smile again. “Would you like to change that?”
“I … uh, what do you mean?”
He just keeps smiling at me. “How about we get outta here?”
I barely know this guy. Leaving a honkytonk bar with a handsome stranger is about as in character for me as … well, being in a honkytonk bar in the first place. But I’m not ready to say goodbye to Jesse. Not yet. I check to make sure my phone has plenty of battery left (10:37—take that, Sherry!) and nod. “Yeah, all right.”
****
There are a few ways I thought tonight would go. Shining my phone’s flashlight over a bull-rider’s shoulder while he unlocks an ancient-looking lock on a stables’ pair of front doors an hour shy of midnight was not one of those ways.
I hear the lock click open and Jesse holds the door open. “After you, ma’am,” he says. I can’t see him very well, but I’m pretty sure he tips his cowboy hat to me.
“Haha, nice try,” I say. “You lead the way.”
As he walks into the darkness I reach into my purse and hold my cell phone. The drive here was the opposite of creepy—Jesse explained in a friendly tone that we were headed to stables that belonged to the family of a rodeo friend of his. He asked questions about my writing, and actually seemed interested in my answers.
Still, I think, tightening my grip on my phone, better safe than sorry. Deserted stables in the middle of nowhere would be pretty much the ideal location for a murder.
“Could you shine your light over here, Annabelle?” Jesse’s voice calls.
With some reluctance, I pull out the phone I’ve been fondling and shine it in his direction. He’s standing in a stall next to a powerful-looking black stallion.
“This is Colt,” Jesse introduces me. He puts his hand in front of Colt’s nose and the horse noses his hand just like a cat eager for petting. The tender expression in Jesse’s eyes as he pets Colt stamps out my axe-murderer concerns in a hurry.
“He seems to like you,” I comment, joining him beside the horse. Colt only gives me a brief look of acknowledgement before he goes back to nosing Jesse’s hand.
“We’ve been training together for a month now,” Jesse replies. “We’ve had some time to get to know each other.”
I lift a hand and pet Colt’s silky black mane. “He’s beautiful.” I pause. “You’re also crazy if you think I’m going to ride this big bastard.”
Jesse laughs. It’s the first real, full laugh I’ve heard out of him. He’s in his element here: standing inch-deep in hay, surrounded by horses. Without a word, he grabs my hand and leads me to the next stall over. A much smaller but no less impressive yellow-tan horse neighs at the sight of us. Jesse reaches up to pet her and she instantly calms down. It seems I’ve wrangled myself a horse whisperer.
“This here’s Buttercup,” Jesse tells me. “She’s real gentle—great for beginners like yourself.”
I try to help as Jesse saddles the horses. Jesse moves to help me onto Buttercup’s back and I hesitate. “What’s wrong?” he asks. He’s so sweet—almost too sweet. Aren’t handsome, alpha men like him supposed to be assholes?
“I’m afraid I’ll fall,” I whisper.
On the outside, I’ve always acted like I was above the horses everyone else in this town is obsessed with—really, I’m terrified. I mean, we all saw what happened to the little girl in Gone With the Wind, right?
He leans closer. “I won’t let that happen,” he whispers in my ear. “Trust me.”
I do. I manage to get up onto Buttercup’s back without too much difficulty, aside from my skirt bunching up around my hips. The dress was most definitely a mistake. We make our way out to the enclosed dirt pen. Jesse literally rides in circles around me and Buttercup as she slowly walks around the pen. He makes riding a horse look as easy as breathing.
I actually don’t do too horribly. After a few minutes, I realize that everything Jesse taught me about how to stay on the mechanical bull applies to horses. By the end, I’m even able to steer Buttercup in one direction or the other using the sides of my feet.
Jesse smiles up at me once we’re back in the stables and he’s dismounted. “Not too scary, huh?”
“Not scary at all,” I reply.
I stumble getting off the horse and fall right into his arms. He twirls me around, away from the startled Buttercup. “Are you alright?” he asks. His arms are tight around my waist while mine loop around his neck.
“I’m actually great,” I reply.
Neither of us makes the first move, exactly. One second, we’re looking into each other’s eyes, and the next, we’re kissing. I can’t get enough of the taste of him and gently bite at his full, beautiful lips. He walks me toward the wall without moving his lips from mine.
He presses me into the wood and moves from my lips and down to my neck. His lips feel so soft on my skin. I wrap my legs around his waist and the feel of his hardness against me makes me wet. He bites the area where my neck meets my shoulder and I shiver.
“What should we do now?” he asks into my neck.
In response, I place my palm over the hardness between his legs. “I know what I want to do…”
I know there are rules about sleeping with a guy on the first date but 1) I’ve never been a big fan of rules, and 2) He’s leaving in a few weeks, anyway, so it’s not like there’s any future here.
He kisses me again on the lips, then pulls back and smiles. “Good.”
His kisses trail back down my neck. He reaches up to untie the halter straps of my dress and pushes down my bra, leaving my breasts exposed. I’d be embarrassed about being half naked in front of all these horses, but then Jesse starts kissing my nipples and I can’t think about anything but his lips, his mouth, and the soaking wetness between my legs.
Without taking his attention away from my breasts, he reaches down under my skirt and grabs my ass. “This right here is a work of art,” he whispers in my ear, giving my bottom another extra-hard squeeze.
“Glad you like it,” I reply, and grace my hand over his ass. It is firmer than I even knew asses could be. “Yours isn’t too bad either.”
I unbutton his jeans to reveal his manhood, which is every bit as impressive as the rest of him. I reach out to touch it, but after a few strokes of my hand, Jesse backs away. “Not yet,” he says.
Then he kneels down in the hay in front of me, his head a little above the hem of my dress. He pulls the skirt up to reveal my flowered silk panties.
“Well, hello again,” he says.
I hike an eyebrow. “What?”
He snaps the elastic on my panties. “We’re old friends. I caught sight of ‘em when you fell off Bessie.”
I turn scarlet. “Is that why you came over to talk to me?”
“I came over to talk to you because you’re beautiful,” he says, kissing my upper thighs. “The fact that you flashed me was just a bonus.”
He pulls my now soaking wet panties down over my legs and feet and flings them away, spreading a few more kisses around my upper thighs. Then, Jesse thrusts his long tongue inside me; my knees go weak, but he winds his strong arms around my thighs to hold me up. Two of his thick fingers replace his tongue, which is now slowly, agonizingly circling my clit.
Maybe the dress wasn’t such a mistake after all.
Warmth spreads from my inner core through the rest of my body and I can feel my toes go numb. “Oh God, yes,” I whimper as I begin to come, my orgasm wracking through me. Jesse pulls his fingers in and out, intensifying the waves of pleasure crashing over me.
Jesse pulls away to smile up at me. “Well,” he says. “That’s one. Let’s see how many more times I can get you to come.”
He sticks yet another thick finger inside me and picks up the pace with his tongue, which is now pressing firmly against my sensitive bundle of nerves, rubbing deep, fast figure eights around my clit. I’m not sure if I’m coming over and over, or just having one long, magnificent orgasm. I can’t say I really care either way. I almost feel like I’m watching myself from above, floating on a cloud of ecstasy.
Eventually I can’t stand, even with Jesse’s help, and take the chance to kneel down in front of him. I begin to slowly lick up and down his shaft, planting little kisses here and there. He moans every bit as much as I do, which is an enormous turn-on. I hate always having to guess whether what I’m doing feels good or not.
Jesse doesn’t leave me guessing, and after a few minutes he pulls me up and into another passionate kiss.
I take back every bad thing I ever said about one-night stands, I think, wrapping my legs back around Jesse’s waist. One-night stands are wonderful…
****
I wake up with the sun in my eyes and hay in my mouth. I spit out the hay, put on my glasses, and sit up. Bright sunlight streams in through the stable windows. Jesse’s already awake. He’s standing in front of one of the windows, facing away from me. His cowboy hat is gone and I realize this is the first time I’ve seen him without it. His hair is a little longer than I expected—it stops around the bottoms of his ears.
He turns and smiles down at me. “Good morning, Sunshine.”
“Morning,” I reply, using my fingers to dispel some of the hay that’s tangled in my hair.
“People are gonna start showin’ up soon, so we’d better skidaddle,” Jesse says, settling his hat back on his head. He holds his hand out to me and helps me up. He reaches into his pocket and hands the contents to me. “You might want these.”
My panties. I blush and am 100% sure he can tell—no dim bar lighting or darkness to hide it this time. I take them and awkwardly pull them up over the cowboy boots I slept in (the one part of the country lifestyle that I do support).
“Now, what do you say to some breakfast?” he asks as we walk from the stables toward his pickup truck.
“I … really?” I ask. I’ve never had a one-night stand before, but I’m pretty sure this isn’t how they usually go. “You don’t have to. You can just drop me off at my apartment.”
We stop beside the car and he cocks his head to the side at me, confused. “You’re saying you don’t want to come get breakfast with me?”
I sigh. “No, I do … but what’s the point?”
“Sustenance, good company … what about bacon? Bacon seems like a good reason to do just about anything.”
I can’t help cracking a bit of a smile at that. He’s a man after my own heart. “This was great. But … I mean, you’re leaving in a few weeks, anyway.”
He nods. “That’s true.” He pulls me into his arms and pulls another piece of hay from my hair. “But I’m not leaving now. And I’d like to keep getting to know you better if you don’t mind.” He kisses me. It’s not a passionate, hungry kiss like last night, but it’s every bit as satisfying. He pulls away and meets my eyes. “Would that be okay with you?”
This is a bad idea. As of right now last night could be a wonderful memory for both of us. Going to breakfast means this becomes real. It’ll mean a few weeks of fun followed by months of heartbreak.
But I just smile at him. “It would be more than okay. It would be perfect.”
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****
I don’t usually rise before eight AM, and when I do, I certainly don’t drive out to the middle of nowhere to watch hundreds of steers walk down the street. The reason I’ve done both on this particular morning walks over to me carrying two coffees.
Jesse. The last two weeks have been Jesse, Jesse, and more Jesse. Other times I’ve fallen for guys I haven’t been able to focus on my work—but I don’t think I’ve ever been more efficient with my writing than I have been since I met Jesse. I’ve been laser-focused, since getting work done faster means spending more time with him.
I keep expecting the other shoe to drop. But it hasn’t. He’s kind, courteous, and has a good sense of humor. He’s got Southern charm without any of the judgmental attitude that usually goes with it.
And I can’t seem to stop touching him. Every other second, I’m catching his rough hand in mine, combing my hand through his hair. It isn’t even about how handsome he is, though of course that’s nice. It’s this insatiable, Jesse-specific hunger that isn’t satisfied no matter how many times we have sex (and we have had a lot of it!)
I’m getting too attached, just like I knew I would. He looks over at me with his crooked smile and all I can think is Don’t leave.
“Belle!”
I turn to see Sherry, her husband, and their brood approaching us. Little Scotty and Diana toddle over on unsteady legs while even littler Zoe rides in a Baby Bjorn on Sherry’s chest. Her husband, John, is overloaded with various bags full of whatever it is parents use to amuse/feed/diaper their children on family outings.
“How did you do it, Jesse?” Sherry demands when they reach us. “I’ve been trying to get Belle to come with me to the cattle drive since we met! But every year she makes some excuse.”
Jesse looks at me. “Is that right?”
In the last two weeks, there hasn’t really been a good time to explain my hatred of all things rodeo to Jesse. With a quick dirty look at Sherry, I sigh. “It’s true,” I confess to him. “This is my first cattle drive. And when I come to see you next week, it’ll be my first time at the rodeo.”
