Cowboy Heaven

by Cheryl L. Brooks

  Good ol’ Rufus. Always perfectly correct, perfectly polite, and perfectly neutral. Marriage with him would be like being married to a cardboard statue. Lifelike perhaps, but inherently lifeless.

  With a nod, I headed back to the house.

  * * *

  The rest of the evening passed uneventfully. Dad didn’t mention Troy, and I deemed it best not to introduce the topic. The way I saw it, the less I said about Troy the better. I didn’t want to run the risk of waxing poetic about his sexy eyes or his cute butt, subjects I knew Dad wouldn’t care to discuss with me or anyone else. I knew Jenny would, though, and I called her right after dinner.

  “Does this mean you owe me one?” she asked after I’d told her about Troy.

  “Owe you what?” I was playing dumb even though I was pretty sure I knew the answer. Jenny was fond of men in general, which made it even more surprising she’d never found the right one. Perhaps she enjoyed shopping more than buying. “A favor or a cowboy?”

  “I’ll take either one,” she replied. “Although I’d rather have a nice, handsome cowboy. You know…big and tall with a handlebar mustache?”

  “Yeah, I know the type,” I replied. “Haven’t seen one around lately.”

  Unless I were to count Bull Russell, our resident know-it-all, done-it-all cowboy. Bull had no hair on his head to speak of, but he did have a rather dramatic mustache. I’d never been able to figure out why a man who was so well versed in everything wound up working on a ranch. I could only assume it was because he truly was all bull, which might also have explained the nickname.

  Bull never failed to have a story to tell about any topic that was mentioned. No matter the job, he’d done it, and no matter the person, he knew their cousin. If asked whether he’d completed some task or other, he never replied with a simple yes or no, but with, “Well, I’m gonna do that when…” or “I didn’t do that because…” He always seemed to be on the defensive—possibly because his actions were the sort that usually needed defending—and he was the only one of the hands I found irritating. If he’d been in on a bunkhouse gangbang, he probably would have destroyed the mood by regaling us with tales about other—and much better—gangbangs in which he’d participated.

  To the best of my knowledge, Jenny had never met him, and I didn’t want to be responsible for bringing them together. She would never forgive me once she got to know him—even if he was big and tall and probably had a big, long pecker to match. Then again, she might be able to put up with a guy who never knew when to shut up; I didn’t consider myself capable of getting past it. Bull was one cowboy I would definitely kick out of bed, no matter how big his dick was.

  “Okay, then,” she said with a sigh. “I’ll try not to look a gift horse in the mouth. A favor will have to do.”

  “I’m sure you’ll let me know when you need one. All I really need for you to do is to vouch for the fact that Troy came to you looking for a job—sent by someone you trust or something. Anything to prove I didn’t pick him up on the highway.”

  “Angie, you know most hands wander in without much to recommend them. Why are you making such a big deal out of it?”

  “Because I don’t want Dad to think I only picked him up because he was such a hottie,” I said. “I get fussed at for enough things as it is. I don’t want that to be one of them.”

  “I can understand that,” she said. “But isn’t there some other reason?”

  “None I’m willing to admit at this point.”

  “Aha! So you did pick him up because he was a hunk.” Her words might have been accusatory, but a note in her voice told me she completely agreed with my reasoning.

  “Yeah,” I admitted. “Plus, I felt sorry for him. I still can’t believe no one else picked him up before I got back from town.”

  “I certainly would have,” she declared. “Wait a minute. That was your truck pulled over on the side of the road this afternoon, wasn’t it?”

  “I take it that was you who drove by and honked?”

  “Yes, it was,” she replied. “Where were you?”

  “In the truck.”

  “Where in the truck? I didn’t see anybody.”

  At least that meant Troy hadn’t been exposed for all the world to see—which might have been awkward if anyone else had passed us by. Jenny was the one person I could count on to keep quiet, especially if I asked her to. Not that I planned to elaborate on what we were doing while we were out of sight, but when I didn’t answer right away, she jumped to her own conclusion.

  “You weren’t lying down on the seat with him, were you?”

  And just like the Grinch, I thought up a lie, and I thought it up quick. “Nope. I was having contact lens trouble. I pulled over to rinse it off and I dropped the damn thing. Troy and I were trying to find it when you drove by.”

  To my surprise, she seemed to believe me. “You ought to give up and have your eyes lasered, Angie. Contacts are too much trouble.”

  “Yeah, right. If there ever comes a time when that procedure doesn’t cost an arm and a leg, I might consider it.” I probably could have kept her on that subject for a while longer, but Jenny was not to be deterred from the original topic of my handsome stray.

  “Hmm, so he’s the helpful sort, huh? You don’t suppose he might help you out with some other things, do you?” She sounded just suggestive enough to provoke me into responding.

  I sighed in what I hoped was a convincing fashion. “Really, Jenny. Is sex all you think about?”

  “What? Me? I didn’t say anything about sex. I could have been talking about helping you wash dishes or mop the floors. I never mentioned sex.”

  “When don’t you mention sex?” I drawled. “It’s your favorite topic.”

  “That’s because I haven’t gotten any lately,” she grumbled. “Almost makes me wish I hadn’t thrown my ex out.”

  “As I recall, that was one of your main complaints about him.”

  “True, but I thought I’d at least get a steady boyfriend once I got rid of him. These one-nighters are wearing me down.”

  “That’s funny. I thought you liked it that way.” She’d told me more than once she preferred variety. Perhaps she hadn’t been referring to the men themselves as much as the limits of their imaginations.

  “Not really,” she conceded. “I’d like to have one long enough to be able to tell who was in bed with me without having to turn on the light.”

  “That would be nice, wouldn’t it?”

  I didn’t think I’d like wondering who I was waking up with myself. Not that there was much chance of that. I could probably identify Troy by his scent alone.

  But perhaps Jenny’s sense of smell wasn’t as discriminating as mine.

  Chapter 8

  That ability was put to the test a few hours later when Troy showed up in my bedroom, unheralded by anything but his cologne and the sound of his stealthy footsteps, both of which had me awake before he ever said a word.

  “Angie?” he whispered.

  “What’s up?” I asked with a yawn.

  His chuckle sounded delightfully wicked. “I’m surprised you have to ask that. I would have thought it was perfectly obvious.”

  “Yes, but it is dark in here,” I reminded him. “You might have come to tell me Goldie was in labor.”

  “That’s true, but she isn’t. I checked on her before I came in.”

  “Speaking of which, how did you get in?” I could only imagine the fit Dad would throw if he ever happened to run into Troy on the way to the bathroom during the night. He’d probably have the big one—and blame me for it if he survived.

  “Through the kitchen,” he replied. “Believe me, I checked out the best ways in and out of here this afternoon. It’s a good thing you don’t lock the doors.”

  “I’d have given you a key if we did,” I said. “Wouldn’t want to lo
ck my boy toy out. That would be tacky.”

  “Not to mention counterproductive.”

  The bed dipped beneath his weight. Moments later, I heard his boots hit the floor, each with its own quiet thud. I hadn’t heard anything quite as comforting since Cody died, a sound that meant a warm, sexy man was about to join me in my lonely bed. Simply hearing it sent a quiver of anticipation racing through me.

  “I can’t stay too long, though. I told the guys I sometimes wake up during the night and have to walk around for a while before I can go back to sleep. I doubt any of them care if I’m not in my bunk, but someone might wake up and see where I went.”

  “We can’t have that, can we? Especially if it’s Rufus. The other guys might not mind you visiting me at night, but you can bet your boots Rufus would tell Dad.”

  The idea of Rufus on a rampage made me giggle. Showing that much emotion was totally out of character for him. How he could put any feeling into the songs he played was a mystery to me. Perhaps music was his only outlet, or at least the only one he allowed himself.

  “Would it really cause that much trouble?”

  “Not so much for you. You’d only get fired. I’d be the one who’d have to hear about it for the rest of my days.”

  “You aren’t exactly a kid, Angie.” He was being kind. No matter how you cut it, a woman of forty-two was middle-aged.

  “Doesn’t matter. Rufus would consider it his duty to report a daughter’s errant behavior to her father. Remember, I was a teenager when Rufus became foreman.”

  “But that was years ago.”

  “Sometimes I wonder if he doesn’t still see me as a kid. Kinda like how I think of my sons as babies, no matter how old they are.”

  “Maybe, but you have to admit, it’s weird.”

  “Yeah. It is. Just be careful, okay?”

  “I will,” he promised. “I won’t try to come every night. What with this being my first night and all, I figured they would understand if I couldn’t sleep. Rufus told me to check on the horses while I was up, so I think he likes the idea.”

  “He’s awake during the night sometimes too,” I said. “I’ve gone down to check on the horses and found him in the barn—although that was usually when one of them had a problem or was due to foal.”

  “I’ll check on them again when I go back,” he said. “But right now, I believe I’d much rather check you out.” He slid beneath the sheets and reached for me only to stop short when he encountered my pajamas as he ran a hand over my hip. “What the hell is this? I thought I told you to be ready for me.”

  “I didn’t know if you’d show up or not, so I went to bed the same as always. Besides, I wasn’t quite sure what you meant by that being ready thing.” I could only imagine my disappointment if I’d gotten all gussied up in some sexy outfit with makeup, high heels, and fishnet stockings and he hadn’t bothered to put in an appearance. An infraction like that would almost have been enough to make me fire my boy toy.

  “What I meant was for you to be hot, naked, and raring to go,” he murmured against my ear. “Or at least in a gown that was easy to take off.”

  “I don’t like gowns, and it’s tough to do all that while you’re asleep,” I reminded him. “I’ll bet your tool doesn’t stay hard all night long.”

  “Maybe not, but it’s plenty hard now.” Pulling up my top, he leaned in to nuzzle my breasts. “Mmm…That’s better. I didn’t get a chance to do this earlier, but I sure wanted to. That shirt you had on today was making me crazy.”

  I’d had on a black T-shirt, of all things. Granted, it had a scooped neckline, but it wasn’t revealing, nor was it particularly sexy. Having reached the dismal conclusion it wasn’t doing me any good, I’d given up on sexy long ago. I’d even considered cutting my hair, but long hair is so much easier to work with—at least mine is. I’d tried it short once, but the constant attention to keep it looking decent made me grow it out again. Like most men, Cody preferred long hair on a woman. If Troy had waxed poetic about my braids, I could understand that. But the shirt? I didn’t get it.

  “Crazy, huh? What was so special about it?”

  “You’ve probably never noticed this, but you tend to drive with your left hand. Anytime you raised that arm, the neck of your shirt opened up and I could see inside it.”

  Of course, to see anything, he would’ve already had to have been looking in my direction. I doubted anyone else would have noticed.

  I might have questioned him further, but since he chose that particular moment to focus on my nipples, I didn’t bother. Holding my breasts together, he moved quickly back and forth between them, teasing each nipple to full intensity with his hot, wet tongue. Gasping, I arched my back in response to his touch, involuntarily thrusting my chest in his face.

  “Mmm, yeah, Angie,” he muttered against my nipple. “I love that.” Wrapping his arms around me, he ran a hand down my back and over my hip. “Now, will you please get out of these pajamas?”

  “Pretty pushy for a boy toy, aren’t you?” I grumbled. He could have taken them off himself. Might have been more fun that way.

  “I can be as pushy as I want since I’m not a paid boy toy. But I did say please. And technically, I’m not a boy toy. I’m a boyfriend, and I want my girlfriend out of her jammies.”

  I heaved an exasperated sigh. “Okay. Give me a minute.”

  I got up and stumbled to the bathroom, figuring I might as well pee and brush my teeth again while I was at it. I found it interesting that Troy considered himself to be a boyfriend rather than a boy toy, but because the fine distinction between the two had escaped me at the moment, I’d let it pass.

  Upon further reflection, I decided a boy toy might not necessarily care anything about the woman he was with, but a boyfriend would. I kinda liked the idea—whether he’d meant it that way or not. I figured I could delude myself for a while longer if I chose to see it in that light. But did I really need to delude myself? I didn’t know Troy very well, but if he was pretending, he was doing a damn fine job of it. Either way, when I went back to him, I was hot, naked, and raring to go.

  “I didn’t mean for you to leave,” he said when I returned.

  “Oh, hush up. I have to brush my teeth if you wake me up, otherwise I just can’t concentrate. Bad smells and tastes put me off. You might as well get used to it.”

  “I certainly wouldn’t want to ruin your concentration,” he said, pulling back the covers.

  What I saw then was more than enough to destroy anyone’s ability to concentrate. Moonlight shone through the stained-glass panel above my window, providing me with just enough light to see him. He was undeniably ready—more than ready; he was straining at the bit. I could see the shine on the head of his stiff penis, see the love drops oozing out over the succulent head like—what was it? Oh, yes, hot fudge on ice cream. It was the tastiest-looking treat I’d had in a very long time, and I made a dive for it, taking the hot shaft in my hand as I crawled into bed, going down face-first into his lap.

  “I can see that a trip to the bathroom has done wonders for you, so I won’t ever mention it again.”

  I painted my lips with his salty, slippery fluid before sucking him into my mouth.

  “Oh, yeah, Angie,” he groaned. “I love that.”

  I hadn’t had the opportunity to suck him as much as I’d wanted when we were in the truck. Cock sucking hadn’t even been an option in the bunkhouse. But it certainly was now, and I exercised that option to its fullest extent. Troy was sweet and salty at the same time, such an intoxicating treat for the senses, I probably could’ve kept going for days on end. He had me so hot I could feel my own dewy wetness pooling between my thighs.

  Apparently, so could he. Stroking lightly with his fingertips at first, he slid his thumb inside and unerringly found the right spot. With a groan, I went down farther on his cock, reaching around him to squeeze his bu
tt with both hands.

  I was rewarded with a gush of wetness that filled my mouth, and for a moment I thought he might’ve come, but the flavor alone identified this as an extra-large dose of cock syrup, and it sent me skyrocketing to a whole new level. I savored his slick rod as he bucked against me, fucking me in the mouth with the same rhythm he used to do me with his thumb.

  “Suck me, baby. Suck my dick. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.” The pressure of his thumb, the tasty heft of his cock, and the sound of his lust-thickened voice as he repeated those words nearly drove me insane.

  Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. Backing off, I said, “Fuck me,” over my shoulder. “Fuck me. Hard.”

  Troy sat up instantly, rolling me over onto my back and pulling my feet up onto his shoulders as he knelt upright between my thighs and slammed into me. If his thumb had been driving me crazy before, his cock finished me off. I went completely limp, offering no resistance whatsoever save for the tight, involuntary grip I had on his penis. What he’d been doing to me with his thumb had me so sensitized I shot immediately into orbit as my slutty cowboy boy toy slid his big dick in and out of me over and over again. Time became nonexistent, and I barely registered its passage until Troy’s muffled cry brought me back to reality. I felt him pump a big load into me as he came for the third time that day.

  He leaned over for a kiss as I lay drifting in an orgasmic haze. My scattered thoughts seemed to coalesce, and I found myself thinking a trip to Jackson Hole might’ve been worth the trouble—maybe even the price of the gas.

  Every twenty miles, and twice when we get there.

  However, upon further reflection, I decided I’d much rather keep him right where he was and damn the consequences. Surely I could get more out of him if I kept him at home rather than giving him a ride to the rodeo. I knew he would leave eventually, but in the meantime, I would enjoy him and try real hard not to get in over my head.

  Falling in love with him would be a huge mistake. Nevertheless, it was one I was sure I could easily avoid. Escaping the notice of Rufus and my father would be a more difficult, although certainly not impossible, task. Even if we did get caught, Troy was right. I was forty-two years old. I wasn’t a high school girl messing around with one of the ranch hands.