Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Mary Beth
T he last place I thought I would start feeling like a boy crazy teenager is out here.
Except, what is making me crazy is not a boy. Nope. One hundred percent man.
When I got the invitation to review the Big Sky Dude Ranch for my blog—and write a companion article in Travel USA magazine—I figured five days in the fresh air and mountains would be fun. Besides, I’m hoping my articles and my blog will continue to catch the attention of Conde Nast or International Life, and they’ll bring me on as a regular consultant.
Travel the world and get paid for it.
Every dream I’ve ever had revolves around traveling. Figuring out how to bring that joy to others through my writing is living my very best life, and I’m not even twenty-one.
Only, having fun in the mountains of Montana doesn’t begin to explain what’s happened to me since I got out of the van from the airport and looked smack dab into the blue eyes of a cowboy who has stolen part of my heart with barely a word.
For two days I’ve barely been able to eat. Forget about sleep.
In the evening, I walk into the tack room of the barn and run my hands along the smooth leather of his saddle, thinking that his manhood is just on the other side of his jeans when he sits here. I lean in and breathe in the scent of leather, swearing to myself there’s a bit more. That there’s the scent of him.
I see him looking at me now. I’m on Rooster, the horse I’ve been riding since I arrived, waiting.
Because today it’s going to be just the two of us. The thought has me pressing my soft parts down onto the hard saddle looking for relief, but it eludes me—as it has since I arrived.
In my cabin at night, all I can think of is the cowboy that’s barely tipped his hat my way since I got here.
But his eyes… God, those blue eyes seem to be on me whenever I glance his way. I’m like a little girl at night, kissing my pillow and playing scenarios in my mind where he finds his way to me. Somehow, his lips working down my neck….
I want to feel his weight on me. To feel the brush of him the first time he centers himself between my legs and eases forward.
Gah . I’m going to soak through my panties and jeans before we even leave the corral.
My heart is in my throat as I see him mount his spotted gray gelding and click in his teeth as he eases his mount my way.
My attraction to him has surprised me. Relationships and the whole happily ever after with someone has never been my thing. I think about my father and my life growing up. He was professional, controlled, everything planned out, living comfortably in the suburbs where nothing exciting ever happens, but you have a sense that you’ve arrived. That you’re safe.
Then, there’s my mom. She’s great, but she’s June Cleaver and Martha Stewart on Prozac. She made a great wife to my dad and a fantastic mom to my twin brother and me, just always questioned my own wanderlust. I always wanted to go.
Be places. Have experiences. Not things.
And going to the mall and having my nails done every week was my definition of prison. I have ants in my pants, she would always say—a need to move around and explore.
My best friend is my twin brother Benjamin, and he’s my greatest fan and encourager. Somehow, he had the same need to go out into the world as I did, but things didn’t work that way for him, so he lives vicariously through me.
He’s a single dad to Malory, who is three now. Benjamin had a girlfriend toward the end of high school, and they had an oops. She didn’t want the baby, threatened to have an abortion, but Benjamin talked her into keeping it, and then she signed away her rights. He always dreamed of being in the Coast Guard, had even qualified to go to basic training, but his life took a turn.
They say twins have a special bond and with us, it’s true. I can sense when he needs me to call, and he’s the same with me, but more than that we both build each other up every chance we get.
He’s an amazing dad, but I see how he looks at me when I talk about my travels, my freedom, and his life is not what he had planned. He was the high-school quarterback. He was hot then, and he’s hot now, even as his sister I know it’s true.
He’s always been a magnet for girls and women, reminding me of a dark-haired Chris Hemsworth type, but to his credit he doesn’t partake in the buffet of pussy that is thrown his way. We look alike in our hair and eyes, but size wise he’s a linebacker to my pixie.
I skim just under five foot three, and he’s just over six feet four.
As Garrett now approaches, one hand goes to the top of his black hat and he tips it upward, nodding at me, forcing my stomach into a tailspin. When I look at him, I see a man unlike any I’ve encountered. He’s wild, yet at the same time calm and quiet. There is a lack of polish and civility about him, and it only adds to the pull I feel like a tether in my gut.
I’m drawn into his orbit, but the truth is I have no idea what I would do with a man like him.
He stops his horse just a foot away from mine.
“Ma’am.” He licks his lips.
Perfect. Kissable lips.
Oh, and he’s older . Just the right kind of older.
He’s carved from fresh air and hard work. His face is balanced but real, with full lips and a set jaw that tells me he could take a punch if needed and throw more back if called for.
“Sir,” I reply with playfulness in my voice, nodding as his horse snorts.
“I’ve watched you ride. This isn’t your first time in a saddle.” His sapphire eyes trace up and down, and I feel wherever they touch me.
“No, I rode growing up. Mostly flat seat and hunter jumper. Never did much Western. Even did some horse shows, had my own horse for a few years before I left for college. Thought about riding again once I graduated, but I’ve been so busy with work.”
“Uh huh,” he answers, but I’m not sure if he’s bored or disgusted. Or maybe I don’t speak cowboy. “You look a little young to be done with college.”
“I’m an overachiever.” I can’t help the smile that sticks to my lips, making my cheeks hurt. He must think I’m a simpleton, the way I’m half star-struck. “Never took summers off. Graduated faster than most.”
“Doesn’t surprise me.” He clears his throat and settles his hands on the horn of his saddle, and I think he might say more, but instead, the talk turns to business. “So, today we’re going to ride out up over the creek and herd about ten head of cattle that have wandered onto a neighboring property. You follow my lead, and we’ll be fine. You have any questions, you just ask, okay? Keeping you safe is the most important thing.”
I nod, feeling the sincerity in his words, and a cloak of safety calms me. “I’m ready. I want to have the whole Big Sky experience so I can let my readers know exactly what to expect for their money.”
Garrett murmurs and nods, then tips his head and eases his horse forward. I follow, taking in the width of his shoulders and the way his body shifts and moves with each step of the horse. The hint of hair peeking out under his hat is dark, with barely a hint of silver. I’ve never craved a man’s attention, but I admit the last few days I’ve spent a little more time looking in the mirror.
Checking my hair. Fussing with my tits in my bra, making sure they are at their perkiest. Wearing my tightest jeans. Debating the whole panties or no panties dilemma.
My common sense is evaporating, and I seem to be at a loss as to how to stop it.
He shifts in his saddle, tipping his head toward the meadow behind the corral. “We’ll ride out about a mile, to the west pasture. Hopefully, find the cattle still up there, then it will be about two hours to the north. We should be back in plenty of time for dinner. You eat a good lunch? Don’t want you getting hungry.”
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.