Page 3 of Big Filthy Cowboy

Well, hell, my woman knows what she wants. I’m the cowboy that’s more than happy to oblige as my mouth waters just imagining Sadie’s frosting. Will she be just as sweet as I’m thinking?

“Oh, that’s cute,” Mom mutters when she peeks at the donut for me.

I tap the card against my palm. “Why did she call me Tiny Bear?”

“Because that’s your name,” Mom says. She’s the only one who calls me by the nickname. She started it when I first came to live with her at eight years old. It was cute then, a habit that made me feel closer to this stranger that brought me into her house. “Oh, I guess she thinks you’re a youngin.”

I chuckle. “Doesn’t matter. I have frosting to sample.”

Sadie

“What are you going to do?” Dotty asks as she smothers another laugh. She’s been doing that this entire phone call.

As soon as I got back to the bakery, I called my bestie here in Courage County. Dotty and I haven’t known each other long, but she feels like my long-lost sister. She’s the first person I want to tell when I have a good day or a bad one, and today was definitely bad.

“What do you mean?” I ask when the answer is completely obvious. “I’m going to post a ‘for sale’ sign in the window of the bakery, dye my hair, change my name, and leave town forever.”

“You can’t do that!” She cries out. “I’m still stuck as an intern here at the stupid newspaper!”

“Fine, but if I die of utter humiliation the next time I see the cowboy, it’s going to be your fault,” I warn her as I measure out the ingredients for another round of sticky frosting. I’m running low on ingredients, but I’m due to get a delivery later tonight. Hopefully.

“I solemnly promise I will take the blame,” she cackles.

“The worst part is that he’s crazy hot,” I sigh, unable to believe my luck. I knew a couple of my girlfriends have fallen for some of the Maple brothers. I just didn’t realize that Barrettwas well…big. So big. What would it feel to have a man like him wrapped around me, holding onto me? Would he say filthy things to me as he made good on the promised orgasms?

“He actually made me feel light-headed,” I confess. I’ve seen a lot of hot guys since moving to Courage County, but there’s something special about Barrett.

“Are you sure you remembered your salt pills today?” Dotty teases, knowing full well that those big white pills help with the frequent dizzy spells I experience.

Before I can respond, the bell above the door jingles. It’s just after lunch which is the normal quiet time in the bakery. I get most of my customers first thing in the morning or late in the afternoon when everyone is craving that sugary rush to get them through until dinner.

I turn with a smile on my lips, ready to greet my customer when I see Barrett. He strides to the counter with a determined glint in his eye.

I gulp and tell Dotty, “I’ll have to call you back later.”

Before she can ask what’s going on, I end the call.

He gives me a grin. I swear it’s nearly the same expression Coco gets every time she foils the doggy gate and makes her way into the kitchen. “I’m here to take you up on your offer.”

I narrow my eyes at him, doing my best to look intimidating. Granted, my chin barely comes to the height of the counter. I step around it so he can get the full effect of being glared at by a five-foot, two-inch girl with powdered sugar dusting her apron. I’m certain I look like one fierce baker right now.

He holds up the brightly colored note that I instantly recognize from his treat box. “You said I could come by anytime to sample thefrosting.”

It’s not my imagination that his voice drops on the last word. “I thought you were a kid!”

His smirk sets my panties on fire and makes my core ache. “Take a good look, darlin’. I’m all grown up and itching to lick your sweet frosting.”

I roll my eyes, trying desperately to ignore how empty my body is. I’ve never craved to be filled this way before. “What will you have?”

He steps closer, his voice falling to a sultry whisper. “You’re thinking about it now, about how it’d feel for me to drop to my knees and lick that sweet cream.”

I try to feign outrage, like I don’t secretly love the dirty things coming out of his mouth. We just met. This whole day has been insane. “Why are you making it sound so filthy?”

He reaches for my hand, and I let him. I let him pull my hand up to his lips. He kisses each knuckle one by one, his soft beard rasping against my sticky hand. “Because you’re a good girl who’s craving something filthy. We both know you’re squeezing your little thighs together right now. And if I put my fingers in your panties, I’d find them damp.”

I whimper at the sight of my small hand in his big, work-roughened one. Energy crackles around us, the filthy cowboy reminding me of a summer thunderstorm. Unexpected and powerful. He’s a force to be reckoned with, one that’s already making me soaking wet. “You’re not tiny bear.”

“Nothing about me is tiny, sweetheart,” he promises, with a hint of a southern boy drawl. What is it about this country boy with his big, strong body that hints at years of demanding, sweaty work? Would he be just as sweaty in bed? Would the sweat roll from his skin onto mine as he thrust deep inside my body?

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