by Meg Ripley
“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.”
****
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.”
His blue eyes get as big as saucers. “Wait, you’ve never been to the CFD?”
“I mean, I’ve passed by it,” I reply. “I’ve just never gone out of my way to be involved.”
“She goes out of her way not to be involved,” Sherry says.
“Here they come!” John exclaims, much to my relief.
I look down the street and there they are: steers as far as the eye can see. Ranchers on horseback keep the cattle in line.
“Wow,” I say. “There’s got to be at least a hundred of them.”
“Try four-hundred and fifty,” Jesse says with a chuckle.
The ocean of steers passes by on their way into town and I can’t help but smile. It’s not every day you see hundreds of steers walking down the street.
I startle when I feel arms wrap around my waist. “So, you’re not such a big fan of the rodeo?” Jesse whispers in my ear.
I lean back against him. “Not exactly. Actually … I kind of hate it.”
“Why?”
“It’s so noisy for like ten days straight, and the animals don’t get treated well, and so many of these cowboys are such douchebags—” I stop myself as I realize what I’m saying. “Not you, obviously…”
I can feel Jesse’s stomach moving as he laughs. “You must like me a lot, then,” he says softly, and lightly kisses my neck.
I look back and forth but everyone else is absorbed by the cattle drive. I turn my head to look Jesse in the eyes. “You have no idea.”
He hugs me closer and we watch as the cattle retreat toward Frontier Park in the distance. They get smaller and smaller the farther they get from us. Most of the spectators race to follow the steers, but Jesse and I stay put.
Don’t leave, Jesse, I think again. Please don’t leave.
****
The rodeo has officially started, and I hate it every bit as much as I thought I would. It’s hot enough that I’m sweating through my shorts and t-shirt and the air is thick with horse manure. There is also no real walking to be done at the rodeo, just moving in the tiniest of steps through the stifling crowd.
This aspect of the rodeo is especially annoying when you are trying to find your bronc-riding boyfriend’s event that starts in five minutes.
Not that Jesse’s my boyfriend, I think.
He’s called me his “girl” a few times and I don’t think the moniker of “boyfriend” would bother him. But it’ll just make things harder. Jesse’s not even staying through the whole rodeo. He’s leaving the morning after his last event, which is in four days.
I finally find where I’m supposed to be. I race into the stands and am able to snag a seat in the front row since I’m all by myself. Sherry and her family met Jesse and I for the pancake breakfast this morning (free pancakes: the one thing I do like about the rodeo), but they can’t cart their kids out for too long before it turns into a disaster.
Jesse is one of the first cowboys to ride. This is bareback bronc-riding, which looks as terrifying as it sounds. Horses buck around, trying to unhorse their riders. I’ve seen Jesse on a bronc already, out at the stables—his body was loose and fluid despite the insane animal jerking beneath him.
That’s not how he looks now, though; I notice immediately that Jesse looks stiff.
Loosen up, I think at him. It’s what he’s told me every time we’ve gone horseback riding together in the last few weeks. Why is he so tense?
He doesn’t heed my mental advice, and he falls off the horse as quickly as I fell off that mechanical bull the night we met. I stand and rush to the railing. Luckily, Jesse is able to get up and make his way out of the arena.
I rush out of the audience, ignori
ng the glares of the people whose laps I’m climbing over. I head over to what I can only think of as the “backstage” area—what’s that called in the rodeo? A cowboy-hatted man stops me. “You need a pass to come any farther, ma’am.”
I see Jesse talking to a few other cowboys and wave. He walks over, looking at the ground. “Hey, Annabelle.”
“Hi!” I greet him with forced brightness. “I’m pretty sure you deserve a beer. Let me buy you one.”
“I’m not really in the mood.”
This is a Jesse I don’t recognize—cold and distant. “Are you okay?” I ask.
“I’m fine,” he says through gritted teeth. The cowboy/rodeo bouncer looks at us with interest. Jesse takes my arm and leads me to where there are less people, behind a hot dog cart.
“Are you really fine?” I ask. He doesn’t seem to be walking weird or anything.
“Physically, yeah.”
“What does that mean?”
He looks around us at the crowd. “You know what? I will take you up on that beer. Not here, though.”
Jesse drives us to Cowboy South, the bar where we met. If possible, it’s even gaudier during the day. There are a lot more day-drinkers than usual, but it’s still blissfully empty inside compared to the rodeo. We sit down and I order a beer while Jesse ends up ordering a double whiskey.
“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” I ask. “I know losing is rough, but—”
“No, you don’t know,” he snaps. Then he takes a deep breath and his face softens. “This rodeo is worth a lot more than just winning or losing to me. You see … what you just saw wasn’t exactly unusual. I’ve been riding broncs and bulls since I was a kid. Made real good money at it too, for the first few years. But lately, things haven’t been going so well.”
“But I’ve seen you ride at the stables,” I say. “You’re incredible.”
“Out there with old Colt? Sure. But when I get in the arena, I freeze up.”
I reach out to take his hand. “What changed?”
He shrugs. “My mama passed on a few years back. That took my mind out of the game for a while. And once I fell enough times, I just couldn’t relax out there. The last few months have been better, but I still haven’t been winning enough money to get by. This rodeo has the biggest prizes out there. The rider who wins the bull-riding championship wins $100,000. If I even place, I should be able to get by for a while on that money.”