Page 1 of Filthy Cowboy
one
Charlotte
“Here’s to Betty Sue.She was the best damn friend and grandmother anyone could ask for!” The table erupts into cheers of agreement as my grandmother’s best friend, Delores, raises her glass in a toast.
It’s strange to talk about my grandmother in the past tense, but three weeks ago today, she passed away peacefully in her sleep from natural causes, leaving me alone in the world, with only these kind ladies to help me celebrate her life.
“Why the long face, Charlotte?” Delores wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me close in a grandmotherly hug, even though there's nothing particularly grandmotherly about the location of the Celebration of Life for my grandmother.
The Longhorn is a popular country bar in my hometown of Cherry Blossom Falls. It’s where all the cowboys hang out, which isn’t exactly a place for four eighty-year-old women and one twenty-three-year-old woman to hold a celebration of life.
“I’m just sad, I suppose. Not about the move or the new job, but about Grandma.”
Moving to Temptation Ridge is a big step for someone like me, who doesn't like change. The new job at the local bakery is actually my dream job. Grandma Betty Sue and I spent most of our free time baking and experimenting with new flavor combinations. I hope to share them with my new employers.
Three sisters own the Mountain Morsel Bakery. They all seem pretty nice, even though I haven’t met them in person — we’ve only ever talked over the phone.
“We all miss her, sweetheart. But you’re young, and you have the rest of your life ahead of you. You need to have a little fun before it’s too late.”
It’s tough to think about having fun right now. Hanging out with these women while we talk about my grandmother feels more my speed tonight, until my eyes drift to the far end of the bar, where a tall, muscular cowboy I’ve never seen before leans against the bar, sipping a beer, more focused on the football game on the TV than the people around him.
I’m not sure if it’s luck or divine intervention, thanks to Grandma Betty Sue, but the cowboy I’m lusting after shifts his gaze toward mine, catching me staring at him. I try to look away, but it feels like I’m living in an alternate universe where we’re the only two who exist.
His cowboy hat is tilted low but doesn’t block his eyes, which are now piercing into me with an intensity that should scare me, but instead makes me feel hot and needy—something I’ve never experienced before.
It isn’t until Delores yells at the tall drink of water — as she calls him — to come over and join us that I realize we’ve been caught staring at each other by four of the biggest matchmakers in town.
“Delores.” I hiss, snapping my gaze away from the sexy cowboy. “Don’t encourage him.”
“Oh, honey, that boy has been encouraged since the moment he caught you staring at him.”
“I was not.” Was I? Why have I never dated before? Maybe then I’d understand these feelings running wild in my body and centering in my core, making my panties soaked.
Why did I wear a mini skirt tonight?
“Sure. We might be old, but we’re not blind. The sexual energy makes me miss my late husband, Harold," Mrs. Jefferies says. “I guess I’ll have to settle for BOB.
“Bob?” I shake my head in confusion as my eyes flick between her and the handsome cowboy walking through the crowd to our table.
“Her battery-operated boyfriend,” Delores says, making all the old ladies burst out laughing.
“Ladies, it looks like I missed something pretty funny.” The cowboy’s smoky voice adds an extra layer of sexiness to the whole package. He casually drapes his arm over the back of my chair at the high-top table where we're sitting. His fingers, whether by accident or on purpose, brush against my back—the heat of his fingertips branding me. I bite my lower lip, holding in a moan—my body starving for human contact.
“Nothing. You didn’t miss anything.” I scan the table, daring one of the older ladies to reveal what we were discussing.
“Actually, we were just saying Charlotte should be out on the dance floor, shaking it with some handsome young fella, instead of hanging out with a bunch of old women, when all of a sudden you appeared at our table like an answer to our prayers.”
I turn my head, look up at him, and wait for his reply, refusing to cower under the table like I want to do at Delores’s obvious attempt at matchmaking.
“Well, looks like I'd better live up to your prayers.” He turns his gaze to me, his deep mossy green eyes crinkling at the corners as he tips his hat with a smile. “May I have this dance?”
Something inside me breaks free, making me want to throw caution to the wind tonight and worry about the consequences tomorrow. “I don’t know, Cowboy. Are you going to tell me your name or are you just Cowboy for tonight?” His eyes dilate at my attempt at flirting, which, by his expression, must not be that bad.
“Rhett. The name’s Rhett.” He leans his head down, his lips brushing my ear, and speaks only loud enough for me to hear. “I want to make sure you know the name of the man who’s going to make you come five times tonight as you're riding his cock.”
I want to correct him and say four because I’m pretty sure I just came a little bit at his filthy words. “Is that so?” I turn my head so our lips are only inches apart. I’m not sure where this newfound confidence is, but I love how powerful it makes me feel. “Why don’t you show me your moves on the dance floor before I decide if I want to see your moves anywhere else?”
A low growl is the only warning I get before I’m lifted off the chair and swung into his arms. "Ladies," he says to Delores and the other women at our table before carrying me out to the dance floor.
