Roped in By the Cowboy
Chapter One: Sydney
The sun is beating down on me as I drive through the flat lands of Middle America. My olive skin is drinking in the rays, thirsty for the warmth. A few strands of my auburn hair have escaped from my ponytail and are whipping about my face as I push the gas pedal to the floor.
I haven’t seen another soul in almost twenty minutes on this God-forsaken road, so I figure what the hell? I revel in the feel of the wind on my face, grateful that my oversized sunglasses are keeping the swirling dust out of my eyes. As long as I remember to keep my mouth closed, I can avoid the extra protein boost of a renegade bug, which means no singing along to the radio.
After what seems like forever, the outskirts of a small town come into view and I ease up on the accelerator. After a particularly rough year, my shrink had suggested I take a break from the rat race and “re-center my spirit,” whatever the fuck that means. All I know, is that I need a reprieve, and I need it bad. I sigh as the long journey is finally coming to an end. To be completely honest, I’m looking forward to some time away from my fast-paced city routine after the epic shit show my life has been over the past year.
I enter the small town and immediately start catching glances. Apparently candy apple red convertibles aren’t the norm around here. I sit at what must be the town’s only stoplight and smile to myself as I feel the eyes of nearly everyone on the street on me. I sit up taller and arch my back slightly, pushing my big tits out to strain against the thin material of my white tank top. I giggle as an old woman swings her purse at her husband who is openly staring now.
As the light turns green, I hit the gas and peel away from the intersection in search of the address Dr. Ferrell printed out for me. I leave the main street and all of its curious stares in my rearview mirror, waving as I go. Look out Sheepshead, Montana, Sydney Baines has arrived.
Barely ten minutes later, I’ve driven through the entirety of the tiny town and find myself on an open road with cattle pastures on either side of me. I slow down and slip my sunglasses down my nose to better read the addresses carved on the fence posts. I find the one I’m looking for and turn up the drive, my green eyes growing large as the house comes into view. I was definitely not expecting what is sitting in front of me.
The long, dusty driveway ends abruptly at a huge lodge of timber and glass. A large wraparound porch sports two rocking chairs that look out over the pasture land to either side of the home. The two-story structure boasts enormous windows along the front, centered by a massive oak door complete with large brass ring knockers. The only thing, besides the smell of cow shit, that points to the fact that I’m on a working ranch, is the beat up pickup truck parked in front.
I take a deep breath and climb out of my car, stretching my long legs from the drive. Propping my sunglasses up on the top of my head, I stride toward the front porch and the door opens before I am even up the steps.
“Holy shit,” I say out loud before I can catch myself.
“I’m sorry?” comes the reply of the Adonis that stands in the doorway.
I feel a blush creep up my neck and clear my throat. “Uh, hi,” I try again. “I’m Sydney Baines,” I say, sticking out my hand. Never in my twenty-seven years on this earth, have I seen a man this gorgeous.
He takes a step out on the porch and I realize that he’s even taller than I had originally thought. I’m on the tall side for a woman, standing nearly five foot ten and this guy towers over me. He must be well over six-five. His shoulders are broad, his hips are narrow, and his tousled black hair falls over his forehead. My palms are immediately sweaty and I try to pull my hand back but he reaches out and grabs it in his before I can. I nearly sigh as his large, calloused hand completely envelops mine.
His dark brown eyes take me in from head to toe and a smirk spreads across his tanned face. “Cole. Cole Parker,” he says, amusement clear in his eyes.
I know this look, and the immediate attraction I’d felt is quickly replaced by annoyance. This asshole thinks he’s better than me. I nearly yank my hand from his and stuff it in the pocket of my short red shorts. I notice that his eyes travel immediately to my chest and I take a step back, the heel of my wedge shoe catching on the top of the step. I feel myself start to fall, but before I can, Cole’s massive arms are around my waist. He hauls me up against his rock-hard chest and steadies me on my feet before letting go. He is still standing close enough that I can feel the heat coming off of him.
My heart is hammering in my ears and it’s not just from the near tumble down the porch steps. The feel of him pressed up against me has made me weak in the knees, and more than a little wet. Holy fuck Sydney, get ahold of yourself.
“Uh, thank you,” I manage to mumble as I smooth my clothes.
“Now I’ve had women fall for me pretty fast before, but that might be a record,” Cole teases.
My face immediately goes hot and I start to stammer out a response but he holds up a hand and stops me.
“Cool down Miss Baines, I’m only joking. Why don’t we get your bags and get you inside and out of the heat?”
As I watch him walk down the steps toward my car to grab my luggage, I can’t help but think that as long as I’m anywhere near Cole Parker, I’ll never be out of the heat.