Cowboys Crave Curves

By Arwen Rich

Smashwords Edition.

Copyright 2013 Arwen Rich.

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I was captivated the first time I saw him. The sunset turned his muscular torso golden as he sat shirtless atop his horse. After the long, sleepless flight to his ranch, I felt as if I were dreaming. Goose pimples broke out on my skin.

“Wow,” said Heather, my assistant. “What a hottie.” She twirled her blonde hair as she spoke.

Mr. Truman was riding his horse back and forth inside a fenced-off paddock, practicing some kind of roundup exercise – spinning a lasso over his head as he rode, then casting it off around the neck of another horse, which tried to evade his skilled aim. Then he would let it go and start again. Every time he raised his arm to cast the lasso, his six-pack hardened, and a flame of desire burst to life inside me. Heat swelled in my cheeks as I watched him.

I wondered what it would be like to be so perfectly formed. I'd always been uncomfortable about my body – unwilling to bare it to the world. I tried to imagine how it would feel to be able to take my clothes off, like this man, without any discomfort.

The concept eluded me.

“And rich, too.” Heather's words broke me from my reverie.

“Sorry?” I said.

“Hot, and rich.” she said. “What a catch. I'd hate to live here, though. It's so... dirty.” She brushed at her handbag, seemingly disgusted.

I had to disagree with her. Mr. Truman's ranch was beautiful. Curvaceous, green hills stretched to the horizon, dotted with huge trees and patches of cattle. A mansion nestled comfortably amongst the hills. The air was fresh, blossom-scented. It seemed like a different world to the city from which Heather and I had flown. I suddenly realized how ugly the concrete, crowded city that I lived in was. So many people, so little life.

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