And now, four years later, here we are again…face to face.
Some things change, like me. I’m a businesswoman now, or at least I’m learning how to become one.
And some things stay the same, like him. He’s got on his cowboy boots and those jeans of his that hug his muscular thighs perfectly…not too tight and not too lose. I know the minute I get a look at his backside I’m going to be reminded of images of him sitting on that wooden fence with his terrific tush hanging over the top plank as the sun sets off in the distance behind him. Cowboys are known for riding off into the sunset, but watching him riding that fence with his thick back and sculpted body was plenty fine for me.
And thankfully he hadn’t ever found love and rode off into the sunset, which meant there was always hope for me.
Or was there? Four years is a long time, and I know how women are always looking at him. Somehow he’s oblivious to it all. He’s just so humble and takes it for people being friendly. I’m a woman myself so I know what’s really going on when women use any excuse they can to get closer to him or even try and strike up a conversation.
And having a conversation is going to be beyond difficult right now because my mouth is hanging open and I’m totally at a loss for words.
“Is this a mirage or did I find Carol Walker, the city slicker, at her local watering hole?”
God, he’s so sexy. He smirks just enough to let me know he’s teasing and more than enough to get my lady bits a stirrin’.
“Colt,” I say. “What are you doing here?”
“Wanted to make sure these metro men aren’t giving you too much trouble.”
“Metro men?” I ask. He knows about metrosexual guys?
“Yeah. The fellas in the city who ride the metro. Or do you call it the subway here?”
I go to laugh but a snort comes out. He doesn’t know what metrosexual means, but his own definition is way cuter. You can take Colt out of the country, but you can’t take the country out of good ol’ Colt.
“We call it The L,” I say
“That’s a good idea.”
I pause and look up and to my left as my mind tries to figure out what he means. “I don’t understand.”
“The el. It’s a clever way to make it easy to understand for both English and Spanish speakers. Kind of like el el.”
Snort number two finds its way out. This man doesn’t even know how adorable he is right now.
“Not el as in Spanish for the. L or El as in elevated railway.”
“Elevated? I thought they were underground.”
I want to just give him a hug so bad right now. “Are you busy? Care to join us for a drink?”
“Are you kidding? I’m parched.”
A man with a mop suddenly appears in front of me. I apologize profusely, blaming it on my clumsiness. I’m not about to tell him the real reason why I lost my grip. Sorry, but Mister Charismatic Cocksure Cowboy came into my line of sight and I literally dropped everything I was doing. That’s not really going to fly.
The bartender says he’ll send another round to our table free of charge, even though I beg him to let me pay for my mistake. He won’t take no for an answer so I make a mental note to use the money to tip him for his generosity. It is the holidays and I’m in the giving mood, especially after what was just given to me…the sight of Colt McCoy delivered right on my doorstep so to speak.
We get settled into our booth, and I introduce Colt to Sheree. She was extremely kind for agreeing to meet with me tonight and telling me what her job entailed. I was embarrassed to reach out to her, but she said getting fired this week was a blessing. It also gave me the truth. She was fired. She didn’t quit. She said not having to work with those guys anymore plus the severance just in time for the holidays was the ultimate surprise gift. I loved her enthusiasm and positivity. I just wonder if she can tell mine went up a notch since Colt arrived.
The waiter brings our drinks but Colt insists on a round of shots first.
A couple minutes later we tip back the whiskey and I must admit…it’s the first time in my life I’ve tried it and I expected it to burn, but somehow it goes down smooth. I’m not sure if Colt ordered something from the top shelf or he just knows where to look for value in the liquor cabinet.
And looking is exactly what Sheree is starting to do…at Colt!
I tell myself I’m not competitive, but I can feel it. I want Colt all to myself. The thought of ever sharing him simply isn’t an option. And although he’s focused on me, while still being polite and nice with Sheree, I still feel a little jealous. Okay, a lot jealous. What’s gotten into me?
I never felt this way on campus around the boys there, but then again none of them ever seemed like a real catch. There were some really nice guys, some good-looking guys, and even some rugged guys, but none of them was close to the full package. And how could they be? They were just too young and too immature to really be what a woman truly looks for in a man.
Plus none of them was my first, and so far only, crush I’d ever had.
We’re barely fifteen minutes into catching up when I hear a voice I wasn’t expecting to hear.
“Having fun ladies?”
I look up and see Mister Dudley and Jared.
“Mister Dudley. Jared,” I say.
“Gentleman,” Colt says.
I feel nervous and somewhat strange with my boss and one of the guys from the office standing here in front of me, but the minute I feel my heart rate spike I also feel Colt’s leg brush against mine. I’m not sure if he meant to do it or not. Maybe he was just adjusting himself in his seat, or maybe he noticed my stress level picking up and just wanted me to know he’s here for me. Either way I feel safer already.
“Can I speak with you a moment, Carol?” Mister Dudley asks.
“Yeah. Sure,” I say.
Out of the corner of my eye I can see Colt looking squarely at me. He looks dead serious and I know why. He can feel that I don’t like this and he’s just waiting for me to say something so he can step in like a gentleman and stuff these two rodeo clowns in a barrel and roll them on out of here. I can’t have that. We’re not back in Santa Fe, and my livelihood depends on making sure guys like Colt don’t beat up my boss. It’s not like it would be much of a challenge for him anyways. He’s got more strength in his pinky than these quote unquote men do in their entire bodies.
I make a move to slide out of the booth, and Colt lets me pass. He still looks uneasy about it and I feel his eyes on me as Mister Dudley motions for me to step a few feet away towards the dartboard. So much for him worrying about my safety. Or is it a power play? Scold me, as I can see he’s ready to do, while darts whizz by a few feet from my face.
“What are you thinking, Carol?”
“Sir?”
“Having cocktails at a bar with a former employee who we just terminated this week and a client.”
“A client?” I ask.
“Of course he’s our client. You did up the paperwork this afternoon.”
I quickly think back. I didn’t really do up any paperwork. It was mostly just copying a bunch of stuff and putting it all together nice and neat. I actually tried not to look at the names. I wasn’t sure if I was authorized to see all that account information, and I definitely didn’t want to appear nosey.
“He’s a client?”
“The cowboy who came in last minute. Referral from Snidley. You know the one.”
“Oh, right,” I say. I’m not sure if I should tell him I actually know Colt. I’m not sure if that will make things better or worse at this point.
“Come on. You’re a team player right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“That’s what I though. And I don’t think, I know that you’re better than this. You need to end this. We’ve got a double whammy here and it doesn’t look good or sit well at all.”
“Yes, sir. Can I at least finish my drink?”
“Be quick about it,” he says.
“Yes, sir
. Sorry for the lack of judgment.”
He makes a head motion to Jared and they move toward a booth on the other side of the room. They may not be next to us, but it doesn’t matter. Their eyes are fixed square on ours.
Part of me wants to blow these guys off, but the part of me that has rent and bills to pay knows I can’t. How can they come in to a bar and basically tell me what to do? And on my off time too?
I guess it’s really true. Business is cutthroat and if the clients don’t get you your own colleagues will.
“Guys, I’m really sorry, but I have to get going,” I say less than two minutes later. I tip back my drink and finish it. Wow, that was definitely not a good idea. I already feel lightheaded.
“You don’t have to go because these knuckleheads said so,” Colt says.
“No, it’s not them. It’s me. I’ve just got a lot going on these next few days.”
“It’s the weekend,” Sheree says. “And the holidays. Nobody’s working now. Just relax and join us for another round. One more at least.”
I’m kind of surprised she’s not ecstatic that I’m offering to leave her alone with Colt. Then again I should be locked up for doing such a crazy thing. Actually…what am I doing?
“I can talk to those two,” Colt says in a tone that’s somehow just a little deeper and a little raspier than normal. I didn’t know there were octaves below the ones he used on a daily basis.
As much as I would love that I just can’t go down that route right now.
“Thanks, Mister McCoy, but it’s okay.”
“You’re a young woman now, Carol. Please…call me Colt.”
And call me dripping wet. If he doesn’t see me as a little kid anymore than maybe, just maybe, I’ve got a shot.
The alcohol’s kicking in and as much as I want to grab him by the face and kiss him right on the lips I know that’s not the smartest move. Not with Laurel and Hardy sitting over there and also not some sloppy, wet disaster for a first kiss. That kind of attempt at romance would almost rule out a second chance by one hundred percent.
“Excuse me,” I say.
Colt stays put for a few seconds before reluctantly sliding out of his seat.
He stands.
“Are you leaving too?” I ask.
“I’ll walk you out. Help you get a cab.”
“Thanks,” I say. “But I think I need to do this on my own.”
“Is everything okay, Carol?”
“Yeah, fine. Thanks.”
He knows I’m not telling the truth, but there’s no time to discuss it now.
“You still using your Santa Fe number?” he asks.
“That phone is back home in my room. I have a different number now.”
“Can I call you later?”
He cares. I feel even warmer inside, and it’s not just the alcohol this time.
“Yeah.” I quickly rattle off my number with a hiccup in the middle. “Want me to get a pen so I can write it down?”
“Completely unnecessary. There’s no way I’m going to forget those ten digits. The perfect ten.”
CHAPTER 5
Colt
I drop the plastic shopping bag on the bed and immediately start stripping out of my clothes.
I was able to find a department store close by and I bought a handful of shirts and some underwear to last me a few days. I hadn’t even brought a change of clothes on this trip, but now it was apparent I’d need to be prepared to be here…a few days at least.
I could see in Carol’s eyes that something wasn’t right. This isn’t the life for her. She’s sharp as a tack and energetic as a newborn puppy. I think the big city is taking that from her. I didn’t like the way she reacted to those two douchebags from her office.
Out of respect for her I didn’t make a fuss, but boy did I ever want to go over there and show those guys what it feels like to be bullied. That’s not my style, because back home it never has to be. Everybody treats everyone else with respect. The way those guys were treating Carol? Well, I can give them a taste of their own medicine. A six foot five inch two hundred twenty-five pound taste of their own medicine. And I’m all muscle. They try and hit me they’ll likely break their own wrists, and ain’t no way their punch is gonna do a lick of damage.
But we’ll get that sorted out for her, and for them, real quick.
But right now I need to sort out this massive erection that’s so hard it’s pointing skyward…not just straight out, but straight up. Damn, my dick aches for her. A couple more whiskeys and no telling what might have happened.
I go into the shower and turn on the water letting it run cold. It doesn’t help.
My rod’s like a steel pole that won’t bend or break. You could hang a feedsack from it right now and it would still be as straight and strong as my reinforced barn door back home.
I fiddle with the tiny bottle of shampoo in the shower rack, squeezing half of it in my hand.
I lather it up with both hands, keeping the bubbles in my right hand. I drop my hand underneath my cock, setting my cock in my palm and then I close my eyes.
I run my hand forward and back along the bottom of my shaft. Two strokes later I wrap my fingers around taking as much of my cock as I can into my grasp. It’s just too big right now to get my entire hand around.
I breathe out hard through my nose and flashback to Carol’s final year on my ranch. When she was eighteen or nineteen and she was bending over to shovel that hay. She’d scoop it in the pitchfork and then rotate at her middle to toss it to the side. The way her thigh muscles fired as she squatted to fork the hay. The way her glutes fired as she hoisted it the other direction. The way her back stayed straight and stiff even when angled. Damn, that body of hers was a work of art. She was built for farm work.
And gettin fucked. By me.
And that’s exactly what I imagine as my grip tightens and I picture Carol here in the shower with me as I bend at the knees so our waists line up and then I raise up imagining my dick sliding inside her tight hole. I imagine it’s her first time, and it might not even be a stretch to think so. I never saw her with a boy back home.
My grip tightens even more as I thrust into my hands. I can feel her pussy clamping down on my cock and it sends me over the edge as I blow my load all over the tiles. My body shakes and a second load follows the first.
I lean forward placing my palm on the tiles and my forehead on the back of my hand. I’m breathing hard. I look down and see my cock is still hard as a rock. It’ll calm down in a minute. I hope so at least. This is unchartered territory we’re treading on here. I ain’t never felt something so strong for a woman before like what I’m feeling for Carol.
Sure, a lot of it’s lust, but there’s a whole lot more to it than just that.
I’ve known her forever. She’s good stock. Her dad’s a good man and he raised a true lady. She’s a woman I can trust and one I can build something with. We already have a bit of a foundation. Now I just need to bring in the cement truck and lay that foundation thick and deep and the two of us will be so solid there’ll be nothing stopping us from taking this thing all the way to the sky.
But first I need to see her again. Not in my imagination, but for real.
CHAPTER 6
Carol
I enter the apartment where I live and drop down my work bag. I’m a little buzzed from the drinks and a little flush from being so close to Colt.
I could see it in his eyes…what he wanted to do to my boss and Jared. I’m glad he didn’t. I know he was holding back for me, but I could only imagine if they pushed much harder. Colt would have pushed back and there would be two guys in a lot of pain right now.
I’m not one for violence but it feels so powerful to know Colt could twist those guys up like pretzels at the drop of his cowboy hat. This city is full of guys running every which way to the gym while Colt’s getting even bigger muscles just running his ranch.
But why did he come to my office today? What would he need with agri
cultural futures trading? Is he planning on becoming more of a farmer and less of a rancher?
I can find that information out later, but first I need to find out what it feels to be owned by him…at least in my imagination.
I plop down on my bed, glad my roommate is out of town for the holidays. I open the picture gallery on my phone and scroll through the shot I took of Colt years ago. It’s just after sunrise and there’s still a lot of haze in the air. Colt’s riding Daisy and he’s making a turn around a barrel. Daisy’s breathing hard as is Colt as their bodies are at an angle, they’re taking the turn so sharp. They’re both so intensely focused on moving forward. All the muscles in their bodies flexing. For some reason Colt didn’t have a shirt on that morning. It was the only time I ever saw him like that. I know sometimes he liked to bathe in the creek when the water was warm enough. Maybe that was one of those mornings.
Cowboy's Christmas Carol: An Older Man Younger Woman Christmas Romance (A Man Who Knows What He Wants Book 30) Page 3
