by Wyatt, Dani
I lie. “Yep, I ate fine.” I barely picked at my food, unable to swallow anything as thoughts of being with him today swam in my head.
“Good. Harriet likes to be sure guests enjoy the food here. If I do say so, with due respect, you fill out a pair of jeans nicely. Would hate to see that change.” He turns to give me a half smile and heat bursts onto my cheeks.
“You’re corny, but I guess I should say thank you.”
“Yes, you should, and yes I am. And you’re welcome.” His white teeth flash behind those lips I’m sure would be life changing to kiss. “Let’s go then.”
As we ride, I’m surprised to find us slipping into an easy conversation. Since I arrived here, he’s barely said a word to me. We talk back and forth about the ranch and my work. Garrett grew up here. His father and mother passed away within a week of each other a couple of years back, still living and working right here.
I tell him about my blog, and I’m taken aback when it takes a while to explain to him what a blog is. When I ask him if he has a cell phone so he can look at it, he laughs. Tells me he has an old flip phone back at the house. Harriet, the woman that works the dude ranch, is his sister, and she insisted he get a cell phone. He admits he never remembers to charge it, let alone take it with him.
As we go, the low rush of the creek carries on the wind. When the water comes into view, it’s running fast. Down and over boulders, hissing where it falls. There’s a mist hanging in the dip from the rushing creek, cooling the early summer air.
“Wow,” I half-shout over the noise. “That’s quite a creek.”
“Yeaup.” Garrett hitches his hat back on his head, resting one hand on his thigh while the other holds the reins balanced on the saddle horn. I see the muscle in his jaw tighten and move under his skin. “It’s a bit more than a creek.”
“Can we take a minute? I’d like to get some pictures.”
“Sure.” Garrett looks around quickly, then dismounts, leading his horse behind him. He steps toward me, retrieving my reins as I swing my leg over and bounce to the soft ground below.
He leads the horses toward some open grass, loosely wrapping the leather reins around some low branches before coming back toward the bank of the creek where I’m standing.
“They going to be okay there?”
He nods, running a hand down over his mouth and clutching his jaw before he answers. “Yeaup. They’re good horses. Might pull out and get into some grass, but they’ll stay put. They know the drill.”
I pull my phone out of my back pocket and shake out my legs. When I look up, Garrett is staring dead at me, his eyes darker than usual.
The fantasies I’ve had of him slipping into my cabin at night and taking me, hard and fast with a hand clamped over my mouth, flood back, and I’m flushed with embarrassment as though he can sense my thoughts.
As much as I try to deny the clear signals from my body, it’s impossible. These raw, lustful feelings I have for Garrett are unlike anything I’ve had before, let alone the scarlet fantasies he’s drawn from me. I’m ashamed of some of the things that have flashed through my mind the last two days.
Rough. Hard. Unapologetic.
Bordering on illegal.
I shrug a shoulder to my ear, trying to silence the tightening in my core before I combust and scare the life out of this wholesome rancher.
My guilt is only fueled more by our age difference. He’s old enough to be my father. That should be a deterrent, right?
Wrong.
“You gonna take some pictures then?” He looks confused, and I realize I’ve been standing with my phone in my hand just looking at him. I don’t know how long. Lost in this lust fog, it could have been an hour for all I know.
“The creek. I’d like you to stand over there, maybe.” I point to a spot between the bank of the creek and the horses in the background.
“You want me in the picture.” It’s a statement, and I nod, still unable to hold back the near-permanent smile he teases from my face as he walks over to where I’m pointing.
“Right there.” I wave my hand for him to stop. “Perfect.”
God, he is truly so perfect.
The lighting is amazing, shining through the trees and casting golden streaks across his dark denim shirt and exposed chest, silvering the mist and glinting off the swell of the creek. I click off about ten pictures before lowering my phone and checking each one.
I put two fingers on the screen, pulling the photo so it’s zoomed in on Garrett’s face.
God, once people see him, this ranch is going to be filled with every lonely woman with a cowboy fantasy.
“Good?” he shouts, and I hold up a hand, my index finger to the sky as I look down at my phone, backing up to find the next good shot. My fingers tap the screen again, moving the photo, zooming in on...
...he’s got a hard-on.
An enormous.
Crazy big.
Massive.
Erection.
I can’t tear my eyes from the screen as I back up a few more steps, lost in the sight and size of what I see.
“Mary Beth?” Garrett’s voice mixes with the roaring creek.
“Yep! That’s good.” I don’t even look up. Two more steps back, my eyes still locked onto the phone screen.
I never gave much thought to that saying; hung like a horse. Until now.
The next moment, my left foot slips.
I list to the right. Then to the left.
My balance is lost.
“Hey, watch out.” I hear Garrett’s voice, but it’s too late.
“Oh shit!” Is my only reply before the inevitable conclusion of my misstep. I see the headline now, Mary Beth Lassiter, up and coming travel journalist, lost in mountain creek after being blinded by cowboy dick.
My phone flies up in the air as I flail, trying to keep gravity at bay.
I lose.
The creek wins.
When I hit the cold water, I choke out a half-laugh with the shock and absurdity. Drenched and flapping in the freezing water until I realize...
The current is strong.
The creek is deep.
I flail and try to clutch at anything as I realize the bank of the river is out of reach.
Sudden panic clutches around my throat. I’ve never been a strong swimmer.
That’s a lie.
I can’t swim. On my best day, I can float. In a pool. Laying on a nice raft with a Pina Colada in my hand.
But in the icy water of a flowing mountain stream?
No way.
I’m bobbing. Gasping for the single gulp of air I manage to take when I pop up for a second, but water joins each breath, making me gag as it stings my lungs.
The freezing water is over my head. I feel rocks and branches knocking against my body and I’m like a leaf being carried away.
I’m all for adventure, but not for the kind that can kill you. I see nothing but water. I reach out, desperate to grip anything that might halt my motion, but there’s nothing. Only water.
A single thought races through my head.
My life is just getting started.
It’s Garrett’s face I see when I close my eyes.
My head smacks against something hard, and my next thought is some things are over before they even begin.
THREE
Garrett
THERE ARE ONLY A FEW reasons I take off my hat besides sleep and showers.
National anthem. Been awhile.
Church. Been longer.
Sex. Can’t even remember how long.
And now, to save the girl that’s stolen my heart and fallen into the fucking river.
I’m up on Dorian’s back in a matter of seconds, and he feels my urgency. “Yaaaa.” He takes off like a rocket down the creek to where she’s being swept away.
This time of the year the river flows like a beast, and she’s got no chance of finding her way back to the bank until the current settles about a mile down the mountain.
&n
bsp; Dorian’s hooves pound the ground as we close the space to Mary Beth. I weave around a patch of trees, giving the horse a couple of kicks of encouragement to get ahead of her.
He digs in, and when we come around, we’re just enough ahead of her floating form.
I jump down, snatch my lasso from the saddle and swing it over my head. Her hands aren’t moving, I can’t tell if she is face up, and my chest constricts. This has got to be some sort of cosmic joke.
My mind flashes on how she looked that first moment I saw her. Pink on her pale cheeks, long, chocolate hair that I needed to wrap around my fingers, sinking my face into—
STOP. Concentrate.
I spin the looped rope over my head. Settle my next breath. And toss it. My heart sinks when I hit the target, but she remains motionless.
“Grab the rope!” I scream as the possibility of what could happen hits me like a bat to the back of the head. I yell again, louder this time, “Grab the fucking rope!”
Rage rips through me, engulfed by a sense of doom. She’s about to pass where I’m standing. I jerk my head around and see a long, broken branch laying on the ground and lunge toward it.
I snatch it up, hefting it as I try to keep hold of the rope at the same time, then slap the wood down into the river just before she floats by.
“Grab on, Mary Beth!”
Her body pushes against the branch, and the pressure of the water and her weight is loosening my grip.
The thought hits me that I can’t imagine going to my grave without having her by my side.
That’s how far I’ve come in just two days.
As panic closes my throat, her arms fly upward, her body twists and she’s on top of the branch, the rope intertwined with them both. She must be half frozen. She’s barely holding on. I dig my heels into the soft dirt and pull until the veins in my forehead feel like they will pop.
As she comes closer, her head bobs up and she lays it solidly on the branch. Next, her arms find purpose, and she tightens around the wood and rope. I keep pulling until I’ve got her a few feet from the bank. The water is shallower there, and her legs start to drag on the bottom, slowing her to a near stop.
With my heart racing, I’m down the bank and in the water, scooping her up against me. Her drenched body is limp, but she looks up, her eyes link to mine and—to my shock—she smiles.
Adrenaline surges through my veins as I look down and see a sparkle in her bright, green eyes. Blood pounds in my ears as I get her safely up onto solid ground and lay her down, bolting up to grab the blanket off the back of my saddle and shaking it out onto the damp ground.
“Let’s get you over here.” I help her shift from the grass onto the blanket as she coughs. Her hands come up to rub over her face, pushing the water from her eyes, smoothing back her hair as I take her cheeks in my hands.
I realize if she hadn’t grabbed onto the branch, I would have thrown myself out into the current with her. I would not let her face whatever fate had in store alone.
I would have died for her. I would have died with her.
“You breathing okay?” Guilt rakes through me looking at her lips, thinking about how I want to put mine there. How many times in the last couple days have I imagined those sweet, full, pink lips wrapped around my cock?
I’m a horrible man. She could have died, and I’m still thinking with my fucking dick.
“Yes,” she sputters, those amazing lips still turned up into a half smile. “That was crazy. Is that ride in the brochure?”
Her hands come up and wrap around my forearms, the contact hitting me like a sonic boom in my chest. I reach into my back pocket and pull out a faded red bandana, pressing it against the spot of blood on her forehead.
“Hold that there,” I command, and she brings one hand up to comply.
I strip my shirt and wrap it around her shoulders, imagining how it would feel to have myself wrapped around her.
Have her wrapped around me.
I’m suddenly engulfed in anger. At what, I’m not sure. At the river maybe. At me for not seeing her putting herself in danger sooner as she stepped back to take my fucking picture.
Her cheeks turn toward pink again as I take the bandana from her forehead, stuffing it back in my pocket, the blood gone but the reminder gathering more fury at the knowledge she was hurt by my poor judgment.
Her safety is my responsibility now. Her care is my responsibility now. Everything it takes to make her happy...
Is my responsibility now.
“Well, you promised me an interesting day. You have not disappointed...” Her good humor at a time like this is almost incomprehensible. Part of me wants her to yell and scream about how I failed to keep her safe, but another part is drawn to that warmth.
I’m kneeling in front of her, my eyes fighting the urge to look down where her white t-shirt is plastered against her skin. The thin fabric of her bra is doing nothing to hide the hard peaks that are pressing through, making my cock drive upward in its fight to get to her.
I force a smile. “That I did. Only, I had something else in mind.”
There’s a beat of silence as her eyes connect to mine. I see her chest rise and hold.
But the moment is broken as we both turn in the direction of the sound of hoof beats. Dorian looks up as well from where he’s grazing to see Rooster, Mary Beth’s mount, galloping toward us. He slows, snorting, looking at us on the blanket, seems to sense all is calm, then settles next to Dorian to nibble the grass.
“What exactly did you have in mind?” Her voice is barely above the sound of the water as she bites into her bottom lip, driving me close to the edge of madness.
I’ve never been an impulsive man. Never rushed. Always planned.
But I also believe in signs. Things around us that compel us to listen. I just about lost her a moment ago, and I take that as a sign. No more fucking waiting.
“Something like this,” I answer, moving toward her, and take her mouth with mine as I hold her by the back of the neck, letting her know she’s in my hands now.
FOUR
Mary Beth
SINCE I ARRIVED, I honestly wasn’t sure if the sexy cowboy was looking at me, or through me. I could never tell if it was contempt in his eyes or desire.
After all, with my cellphone, laptop and never before worn cowboy boots, I’m not the kind of girl that would attract a cowboy sprung directly from the screen of a John Wayne Western.
Still, I’ve watched him at every opportunity.
Moving on his horse.
Walking far away from the group with what I thought was indifference to the silly city folks.
Although I swear, a few times when I caught his eye, there was a spark. Like a predator watching prey. I sensed a wild hunger, and I felt like I might be dinner.
For a flash, those blue eyes would dart my way, then just as quickly they’d turn away. I pretended it was the animal in him pacing, waiting for the opportunity.
Those moments made me dizzy. Made me wet and unsteady.
Made me want things I didn’t know I wanted before I came here.
Now, his mouth is crushed to mine. The warmth of his greedy tongue spinning with my own as heat rises through my chilled body. I draw a sharp breath as his hand grips the back of my neck, his other sweeping under, gripping my ribs just under my breast.
A desperate groan escapes, and I’m sure my nipples are hard enough to cut glass. I’m wet, with goosebumps on my flesh, but I’m heating from the inside out. There’s a deep ache in my center, the same one that comes to me every time I look at him. Only this time it’s nearly unbearable. I fight off the orgasm building as he pulls back from our kiss, leaving me breathless.
My mind wanders back to the last thing I was looking at before the river took me.
That picture, showing something very large in his pants, has me spinning and wild. I’ve never been a fast girl, never took to anyone quickly—or barely at all. My experience is sad and limited, only a couple of boyfrien
ds in college because I felt it was the thing to do.
But nothing has ever felt the way this blue-eyed cowboy makes me feel.
My heart pounds with lust and joy against my sternum as his eyes make me think everything in my life is going to be okay. Out here, in the middle of nowhere, there’s a sense of fate. A comfort I’ve not felt before. He’s so close now, the heat from his body radiates to mine, warming my chill away.
“Your mouth has been driving me half-crazy since you got out of that van.” His eyes scan my face, falling to my open lips as he shakes his head. “It’s better than I imagined.”
“Thank you.” It’s all I can think to say, but I mean it. “I thought I might die. I thought about all the things I want to do with my life.” The tension in the air between us ripples with a current that has me trembling.
“I did too. It fucking terrified me. Do you want to know what I want to do?” His voice is deeper as he moves his hand from behind my neck to run the pad of his thumb over my bottom lip.
I swallow the lump in my throat and nod, leaning slightly forward into his grip. He shifts onto his knees in front of me as I sit cross-legged, then he places his hands on my thighs, forcing us face to face.
“I want you to take off your shirt. Because if you don’t, I’m going to rip it off.”
His words turn the desire inside me into a living, breathing being that demands its needs be met.
To my own shock, with tingling fingers, I reach down to the hem of my t-shirt and start to pull it up, and I hear Garrett growl. His nostrils flare, eyes narrowing as they look down at my body making me feel exposed.
“Off,” he grunts.
I should be scared; out here, wet, with a man I barely know, demanding I undress for him.
But I’m not. I’m exhilarated. My panties are soaked from the river but soaked again for other reasons.