UPDATE: The winner of the free Amazon gift card is…Karen (#4)!
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Some of you who’ve known me for a while might remember a short story I had out there a while back called “Cowboy.” Just 5000 words and very sexy. A girl who decides to jump the bones of a very sexy cowboy who comes away from the experience with more than she expects.
Well, I’ve been sitting on that old story for a while. I dusted it off. It’s been re-edited, lengthened by a couple thousand words. I think it might be the start of something, but I’ll let you be the judge of that. The story will release on the 23rd. Here’s a peak inside…
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Lightning clawed the sky with a crow’s foot, illuminating thick thunderheads that glowed yellow-green and ominous. The color the sky often turned before a tornado twisted its nasty tail. Glad to be out of the rain and safe from the jagged streaks, I shivered against the cool vinyl seat as another flash lashed out like the end of a whip, lighting the sky so intensely that for a moment the darkened parking lot was as bright as high noon.
That was when I saw the pickup roll in towing a large horse trailer. The Ford F-160 ground to a halt beside the diner’s plate-glass window. The driver wasn’t going to bother trying to park it in the flooded lot.
I heard the muffled slam of the truck door when the end of the lightning strike flickered out, plunging the parking lot back into darkness. The driver would be soaked to the skin before he even hit the door. The distance was only twelve feet, but the rain was coming down in sheets. I’d been lucky, arriving before the worst of the storm struck. Mostly dry, I peered through the window at the deepening night, waiting for a lull before continuing my journey home.
Earlier, I’d read the clouds as well as any West Texas native could and headed to the nearest shelter. The tiny diner with its 70’s style brick façade, split vinyl bench seats, and chipped, laminated table tops was a welcome haven. The attached string of dingy motel rooms was part of Plan B, if the storm didn’t wane before midnight.
My arrival had been nearly forty minutes ago. Except for a bored waitress smoking a cigarette at a far table, I was the only customer. Until now.
The door squeaked open, and a cowboy strode inside. He pulled off his cream-colored hat and shook shaggy dark brown hair like a dog, sending droplets of water lashing against the glass door. His white T-shirt, soaked almost to transparency, clung to the hills and hollows of sharply defined muscles along his chest and abdomen.
I straightened in my seat, eyeing his tall, lean frame, liking what I saw. Instant lust drew me, stripping away my usual reticence with strangers. He wasn’t just my type, he could freaking set the mold. I licked my lips.
Setting his cowboy hat on the table, the deeply tanned man sank into a booth near the door, his expression a study in irritation. Dark brows drawn in a fierce frown, his lips crimped in a thin line.
This cowboy needed a reason to smile.
I pursed my lips and let out a low whistle. His green gaze sliced my way, taking away my breath. One dark eyebrow rose, his gaze sharpening, giving my face and chest a quick sweep.
His glance locked with mine again, and I figured I didn’t look exactly Coyote Ugly. Feeling brazen as hell, I smiled. “’Fraid you’ll melt?”
The corner of his mouth curled—just a slight easing of tension I found promising.
“I’m not that fragile,” he drawled.
I liked the raw texture of his voice—a scratchy rumble that started deep in his chest and scraped upward. Already I could imagine it softening to a rasp when he whispered. “Seein’ as we’re the only ones here, cowboy, wanna join me?”
With a nod, he gripped the top edge of the bench seat to haul himself up, giving me an interesting view of flexing biceps. He set his cowboy hat back on his head and sauntered my way. The easy roll of his hips and the dull clap of his boots on the tiled floor heightened the little flame of awareness growing inside me. The man certainly filled out a pair of blue jeans.
My gaze dipped only a moment, taking in the oversized belt buckle and the equally impressive bulge at the front of his pants before sliding up to cling to his mossy-green eyes, the corners wrinkling as he narrowed his gaze.
Something about him seemed familiar, like maybe we’d met once a long time ago. Only I knew I’d never forget someone like him. I shook my head, guessing I wanted a connection to this man that didn’t exist—something to make the plan unfolding in my mind a little less outrageous.
His eyelids dipped then widened, a subtle once-over that left my breasts tingling and my thighs tightening.
He nodded toward the window. “Storm catch you, too?”
So he was willing to exchange small talk to extend our encounter while he politely studied me to figure out where I was leading him and whether he was willing to be led.
I’d never considered myself especially easy, but I was quick to make up my mind when I saw something I wanted. Something I had to have—and this cowboy, I definitely had to have. “I don’t mind the storm. I needed a break anyway,” I said, trying to keep our conversation light and flowing. Soon enough, I’d figure out if he was ripe for a little more than flirting.
He continued to stare—at my hair and my breasts, again—until I warmed past the need to be cool. “You change your mind? Or you gonna have a seat?”
His soft snort, so typically male, plucked at my nipples. But he slid into the bench opposite me, stretching his bare arms wide across the top of the vinyl, all that lovely muscle and the shadows of his small male nipples coming into prominence with the stretch of thin, wet opaque cotton. “Travel far?” he asked, the texture of his voice deepening to a sexy growl.
Again, I pressed my thighs together, enjoying the slowly building heat. “From Atlanta.”
“Much farther to go?”
“Home’s just down the road a piece.”
He cleared his throat. “My name’s Da—”
“Cowboy,” I interrupted him, setting the rules of this game.
Interest flickered in his eyes. He nodded slowly and lifted his hat from his head to rake thick long fingers through his black-brown hair. “Am I gonna call you ‘lady’?”
I gave him a cheeky grin. “My name’s Carly.” My middle name. I’d used anonymity before when I’d been on the prowl. Kept a little mystery to heighten a man’s interest. “I saw you pull up with that horse trailer.”
“I took a string of horses to auction. I’m headin’ home now.” He sounded tired, but his steady stare told me he was waiting to see how this game played out.
I hated the awkward silence that followed, as though we’d run out of polite conversation. At this point, I had to cut or run. I cleared my throat. “So, it looks like we’re both stuck here for awhile…” I let my voice trail off.
His gaze sharpened, and I felt my bluster begin to fade. Had I been too bold?
“Look…” He glanced around. “I don’t know what you have in mind, but our options seem a little limited, sweetheart.”
The rusty rasp of his voice didn’t hold a single note of hesitation. He wasn’t pulling away. His gaze remained steady; curiosity gleamed—and maybe there was a little hint of challenge.
Something I never backed away from. I nibbled on my bottom lip, satisfied when his glance dropped to watch. My confidence restored, I arched a brow. “You don’t appear to be a man with a lack of imagination.”
“Not something I’ve ever been accused of,” he murmured. “But I generally like a little comfort for my partner.” He leaned over the table and whispered. “Something soft underneath her back or her knees.”
Of course I also write the Alpha Hero. In fact, my beefy, dominating Roman knight in Delilah Devlin’s upcoming anthology 
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