by Mima
“Sorrel and I dated a bit when she came back from college. I’d just turned over from cattle to llamas and was really busy. She was helping me network with the tourist ranches.”
Llamas?
“Anyway, she’d drop your name all the time. ‘Lauren would like this’ or ‘Lauren always said that.’ I heard about that time you guys mistakenly asked for a grilled ham and cheese at a kosher diner and the owner followed you down the street, screaming. And when you had that horrible night where you were hassled by the cops for being prostitutes.”
Lauren laughed. “I forgot about that.”
“I know a whole bunch of stories about you.” He was quiet for a bit, pulling at the grass until he caught a blade. Then he added, “But I never heard she’d done that to you.”
“So, are you and Sorrel still together?”
He shook his head. “She broke it off, and then a couple years later we dated again, but she’s too wild for my taste. We’re friendly.”
Lauren hugged her towel close. “I’m glad.” The words escaped without thought and she shot him a look. “That you’re not with her.”
Shooting her a look of his own with a slight smile, he said, “Me, too.”
From the angle of the sun and their closeness, she noticed his eyes were a gorgeous hazel, a moss green and golden brown.
“So, llamas?”
He chuckled. “Yup. Much steadier income than cattle, and way less work.”
“Is there much call for llamas?”
He shrugged. “It’s a niche market.”
“Why would I want a llama?”
He put the blade of grass in his mouth and the fluffy end bobbed as he worked it. Her gaze zeroed in on his lips as he talked, fascinated by his control.
“Well, you might want to eat it. But you might like a pet, or you might be into organic yarn. Shearing them is how I make about half of my income. Maybe you have a hiking business and you want a pack animal that’s better suited to the mountains than a horse.”
“Can you ride llamas?”
“I’ve tried. It’s not pretty. No, adults are usually too heavy for regular riding. Kids can ride them okay, but you have to get the right llama.”
“Because . . . ?”
“Because they pretty much don’t care about people. They can get irritated and hold grudges. They don’t really bite or kick though. That’s rare. Mostly they just spit and run.”
She laughed. He was fun to talk to. “So that’s not a myth? Llamas really do spit?”
“All the time. It’s like hissing with cats or growling with dogs. They don’t like something, they spit. With great accuracy.”
He gestured. “You good?”
She realized he’d talked her out of her tension about Sorrel. It was still warm, even as they stood in the shade.
Nodding, she said, “Let’s swim.”
They’d come around a bend, and the sun was shining hard and hot with the final push of the day. A light sheen of sweat coated her face and arms. The brush they’d walked along thinned, and the river narrowed to a dark, flat sweep. A wall of stones, obviously human-built, marched from bank to bank just below the curve. The water spilled over in a clear rush.
“Here’s the closest hole. There’s some I like better, but you’re raring to get in.”
“I am,” she agreed. Dropping the towel, she bent to undo her sandals.
He sat next to her and hauled his boots off with two-fisted force. By the time she’d draped her gauze scarf over a bush, he’d gotten his socks and shirt off and was undoing his belt. When he stood to take off his pants, she found herself blushing like a dweeb. He was incredibly muscled, with a light dusting of hair. He wore a faint farmer tan, but all of his skin was a touchable gold.
She turned and headed into the river. “Wowzers. Water’s super nippy.” She gasped just from stepping in.
“Nights are nearly always cold. Sometimes in July we get warmer nights. You won’t want to stay in too long.” He stepped in next to her and held out his hand.
She took it, glad for the steadying brace.
He kept pace with her as she inched out over the slippery stones. “It’s nice you’re in the river.”
“Yeah, I like it.” It was a wonderful contrast to the beating heat.
“I just mean that most of the tourists stick to the pool. City folk can be afraid of nature.”
She shrugged. “I’m feeling pretty feisty just from the drive here through the mountains. Something about the river actually seemed safe. Soothing.”
“I came over for the hoedown tonight. You goin’?”
“I love live music. I like to sing but I don’t know much about dancing at a hoedown.” The water hit the backs of her knees. She clutched at his callused hand as the current made itself known.
“Huh. You didn’t quite answer my question, now did you?”
She looked over at him. His gaze was so steady, so nice. “I’m scared about seeing Sorrel.”
His lips tipped softly. “You gonna sit in your cabin the whole week?”
She scowled. “No.” She lifted her chin and found his eyes. “Will you save a dance for me at the hoedown tonight?”
Pleasure blazed in his face. No, not pleasure. It was something harder, more male than that. He wanted her. “Yes, Ma’am. It would be a fine thing to dance with you.”
He’d left his hat off. His hair was mashed, and he had a line across his forehead. His muscles were all crisp, perhaps from the cold. His hips were clear above his tighty-whities, which dearly loved his round ass. His thighs were strong and corded even more clearly than his shoulders.
Her nipples had already popped when she’d gone in the water, but now they swelled.
He saw her full body sweep of him, and then returned the favor, his gaze sliding incredibly slowly down her entire length. Her suit was cut low in a narrow V that ended just below her breasts in front, and even lower in the back, with the V-point ending just above the crack in her ass. The hips were cut high.
She liked this suit. It was very plain and very sexy without being incredibly lewd. Her ass was entirely covered and wide straps went over her shoulders. Suddenly, she wondered how transparent his underwear would get when it was wet. She couldn’t wait to find out.
He winked at her. “There’s something to be said for sharing a swim as a way to get to know someone fast.”
Another laugh burst from her. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so charmed by someone so quickly. “I like you, Walt.”
“Oh, yeah?”
Her guard went up. “What are you planning?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at him.
“Now don’t shut down those incredible blue eyes. I’m minding my manners.” He gestured at the water that was now only inches from his groin. “I could toss you in but I’m not.”
“You absolutely are not.”
“Nope.”
She slunk farther into the river, but paused when it came to her upper thighs. This was it. No sense in tormenting the hoo-hoo with a slow dunk.
“Okay. If you won’t, I will.” She threw herself into the water with a shriek.
Laughing outright, he sank low and glided in after her. “Nowww—this is when you know you’re alive.”
She was surprised by how deep it was. Nervously, she sent her legs stretching below her and found the ground. The rocks were finer here, more like shattered shale. When she stood, her shoulders just cleared the waterline. The current pressed hard enough that she had to use her core to stay upright. Panting from the press of cold on her lungs, she looked around.
The mountain range towered over them on all sides, one half in shadow, the other glowing with lowering sun. Some of it was forested, while other sections were bare granite rockface. The river trees were a backdrop of beauty with white trunks and bright leaves. F
ields stretched out beyond on both sides, more like meadows, actually, with tall grasses dotted with daisies and thistle and little orange flowers she didn’t know.
“Awesome!” she crowed.
“I’m glad you like it.” He dunked below the surface, and when he came up, his slicked-back hair made his face seem even harder, more rough and manly.
His eyes in the full sun were dazzling. She couldn’t look away. “Are you seeing anyone?”
He shook his head slowly.
“I’m only here for a week.” She continued to blurt out information. “But I wish it were longer. I’d like to meet your llamas.”
Ducking down low, she used the water as a mask. He held her gaze.
“Don’t drink the water. You’ll get sick.” He seemed to be considering her. “I come to Cloud Canyon’s hoedowns pretty often. It’s a great time and pretty much the only way to meet women outside of church and bars. But lots of times there’s women tourists here who are out to bag a cowboy. I’m kinda tired of being a notch on someone’s bedpost.” He moved closer.
She could see the stubble on his jaw and ached to touch him.
“But I sure do find you special, River Fairy.”
She turned his words over in her mind. Basically he was telling her he didn’t like one-nighters and didn’t respect women who did. But for her, he might change his mind. On the one hand, it was flattering. On the other, mildly insulting. But most especially, it was very tempting.
If she worked at it, she could seduce Walt. But it wouldn’t be because she wanted to notch a cowboy. She was really drawn to his quiet steadiness and humor. Because she wanted his respect, she couldn’t act on their mutual attraction. That really sucked, because she suddenly had the sense time was flowing past like the cascading stream. She only had a week and he wasn’t even staying here.
“Tell me about yourself,” she asked softly.
The push of the water was strong, and she had to lean to stay upright and not be carried against the rock wall.
His hands fanned below the water as he too worked the current. “I’m thirty-seven.”
Oh. He was almost a decade older than her.
“Been to college in Boulder. My family’s owned this land for four generations, but Dad didn’t ranch and I’ve had to bring a lot back and rebuild the outbuildings.” He looked out over the meadow. “Never been married. Close twice, but it always fell through. Mom tells me my standards are way too high and stiff enough to crack in a slight breeze.”
“Standards are okay,” Lauren agreed. “I keep lowering mine, but it doesn’t feel right.”
He searched her face. “Your fiancé was a creep. Kissing Sorrel wouldn’t be worth losing you.”
She gulped. “That’s sweet. He’s not a creep. He’s just a dumbass.”
“You still love him?”
She considered that. “I don’t know. Could go either way, but it doesn’t matter. I won’t be with someone I can’t trust, and once broken, that can’t be mended.”
He looked grim. “That sounds like a pretty stiff standard to me.”
“I’m old-fashioned, I guess.”
“Me, too.” He idly picked up a stick pinned against the rock wall and dropped it over. It bobbed wildly, heading toward the small section of rushing white water.
“So you’re pretty good where you are now.”
He nodded. “Wouldn’t be any other place, but it can get lonely sometimes. Not a lot of social life. Don’t see my friends that often or for that long, and it’s hard to meet nice women who aren’t taken.”
I’m not taken, she thought.
“How about you?” he asked.
“What about me?”
“Tell me about yourself.”
“I’ve got a good corporate job. I like it okay, but it’s nothing I’m passionate about. I’ve got a cute apartment and living in the city is fun. I was raised in Brooklyn and I’m comfortable there. I’ve traveled widely for business, and a few times for pleasure. I love discovering new places, meeting people who live differently.”
“What’re some of your favorite places?”
“I loved Morocco. Europe, lots of places in Europe. Ireland, France, Italy. I think one of my favorite places is Venice. That’s an incredible mix of location and people.”
“I’ve been to South America a few times, learning about livestock.”
“That’s great. I’ve only ever been to Rio.”
He grimaced. “Not high on my list. They’ve got nice mountains in Peru and Argentina, though.”
“You’re a mountain boy. You’d like the Alps. Switzerland is great.”
He nodded. “I wouldn’t mind seeing them someday. But it’s hard to leave the ranch.”
“You have a foreman?”
“Sure. I’ve got great people.”
“Then you can trust them to run the place for a week. Take time for yourself. It’s important to keep the brain alive.”
“Spoken like an adventuring fairy,” he murmured.
She shrugged. “I don’t know about that. Mostly I love curling up on my couch with my laptop and a movie. But I get itchy feet.”
“Do you ski?”
“I love to.”
“I try to head over to Big Sky at least once each winter. One of my buddies teaches there. It’s a good slope.”
“I’ve only been to some resorts in Idaho and Colorado.”
He tipped his head. “Maybe you’d come out some winter and try Big Sky. There’s lots to do in Yellowstone in the winter. Snowmobiling and dog sledding are great.”
The talk of future plans panicked her. This was way beyond a social lie of “I’ll call you sometime” but the worst of it was she wanted to make these plans—and keep them. For a guy she’d known barely an hour.
“I’m freezing,” she laughed abruptly. “All this talk of the cold is just reinforcing it.” Actually the water made her incredibly aware of how molten her core was, but she was starting to lose feeling in her fingers and toes. “I think I better get out already.”
He stood.
“Oh, you don’t have to get out just ’cause I am.”
“I don’t mind either. And I like doing what my lady wants.”
Her breath just about choked her at the thickness of sexual innuendo in his low words. He liked doing what a lady wants . . . that gave her such a wicked thrill.
She found it hard to move toward the bank they’d left their clothes on. The water was coming around the curve from the other direction and she strained against the current.
“Want help?”
Her feet slid on the bottom. She used her hands to stroke forward. “Maybe.”
He powered forward, turning his chest with big swings of his shoulders. He held out a hand to her and she took it again. He was much warmer than she was. She let her feet drift up and kicked as he towed her to shore. That’s how she came to be at water level as his hips cleared the water right before her eyes.
When wet, his underwear was transparent. She saw his brown bush, his round balls, and the thick penis pointing up, tucked into the hollow of his body. Flailing, she managed to get upright and stand next to him, thoroughly flustered. The water boiled around her hips, sliding hard across her still submerged lower lips.
“I embarrassed you. I’m sorry. I’ll get my jeans right on.”
She clutched at him. “No. I mean, it’s intimate. Seeing your body. It felt—” Good. Sexy. Forbidden. “I’d love to come out skiing this winter.” She was breathless, staring up at him. “Do you ever use Skype?”
His hand came up and cradled her face. He bent down, his gaze on her mouth. His lids lifted and she saw the mixed beauty of his hazel eyes. She gave the tiniest nod to the question in them and then he brushed his lips over hers, soft and gentle.
“Miss Lauren, I’ll use anythin
g you ask me to.” He kissed her again, a press of chilled, plump flesh.
Her body seemed to explode with sensation. Prickles ran across the top of her skin and churning thick blood ran down deep. Her breasts had never felt so big and she trembled, wanting to throw herself forward and wrap him up close. But that wasn’t what he wanted. And she wanted to be wanted by him. That meant controlling herself and not acting like a desperate horndog. Even though she was.
Her head stayed angled up facing him, and she sent her tongue out to trace along his seam. He paused, and then his hand went farther back around her head, cupping her skull. His lips spoke touching hers, sending shudders into her with every word.
“I don’t want to be too forward with you. Because I want you to mean more than that. You’re like some sort of magic for me. But don’t think I don’t want you. Because I’d surely love to touch you right now.”
Images of her laid out on the bank with his body thrusting into hers multiplied in her head like a crazy special effect. She tore herself out of his arms and staggered at the damn current. She fell back and with a whoosh, found herself plastered to the rock wall. The rocks shifted behind her, scraping. Water pressed tightly against her belly, spilling past her with fierce determination. She knew how it felt. With her hands braced next to her, she stared at him standing there like some romance novel come to life. He was incredible. Sensitivity and strength all wrapped up in sex.
She was on the verge of jumping him, damning his sense of honor. He licked his lips, and she actually gasped. Her toes curled, ready to brace and lunge forward.
Was she going to jump on Walt and kiss him senseless, seizing the day? Or was she going to use some decorum and self-control and get him to the dance?
Ending Checklist
Rancho Notorious
City Slicker
True Grit
Once Upon a Time in the West
She Wore a Yellow Ribbon
Rio Bravo
Naked Spur
Wild Bunch
Hang ’Em High
Choice Index
About the Author
Mima has published over fifteen erotic romances. Her worlds include fantasy, space opera, paranormal, and futuristic. Titles that have won EPIC and RWA awards are In Service and Within Reach: A Bonded Fantasy. Becoming an author has sent her over the moon, but she’s still a wife, reader, gardener, and cat pillow down in rural New York as well. Connect with her at mimawithin.com. And be sure to look for the other Dare to Decide adventures.