AllFreeNovel
Share Us
A pair of goggles hung from the handles. I slapped those suckers on, mounted the vehicle, and turned the ignition key, ready and willing to make that quad my bitch.
An hour and a half later…
For the record, an ATV quad is really hard to ride. What was a comfortable thirty minute car ride was an uncomfortable ninety minutes of uninterrupted shaking between my legs in an off-road vehicle. Which, in hindsight, was probably why it was labeled off-road and where it should have stayed. The first ten minutes had been fun. After that, it swiftly went downhill. I was already halfway there when I realized I’d made a serious miscalculation. By then, it was too late to turn back.
When the Million Dollar Cowboy Bar finally came into view, I was ready to fall to my knees and thank God for the first time in decades. Parking between two muddy pickup trucks, I dismounted the vehicle from hell and stumbled, my ass hitting the frozen sidewalk, a silent scream shaping my lips.
A pair of cowboys walked by and examined me curiously without breaking stride. “You need help, ma’am?”
“Nope. Just chillin’, but thanks for your concern.” I waved and they walked into the bar.
Ripping off the dirty goggles, I tossed them aside. I could barely see through all the gunk. In fact, I was covered in it. My clothes. My hair. Thus far, this outing had been an unmitigated disaster. Nothing, however, not a four–wheeler, not even a mud bath, was going to stand in my way of having fun. So I did what I always did when life got messy––I picked myself up, dusted myself off, and pushed on.
Inside, the bar was wall-to-wall people. Tyler Rich’s Leave Her Wild pumped through a large room. The decor was wild west meets Hollywood, the crowd equally eclectic. Most of the locals were dressed in classic western attire––checkered shirts, tooled belts, and pressed Wranglers. The out-of-towners from L.A. and New York were easy to spot in their designer, off-the-runway clothes.
I found an open seat at the bar and heaved a sigh of relief as I settled on a stool. Just being among people felt good. The bartender, an attractive guy around my age with olive skin, dark eyes, and a nose that looked like it had been broken one too many times came over and placed a napkin with the bar logo in front of me.
“What can I get you, ma’am?”
It had to be said that there was something panty-melty about being addressed as ma’am in that sweet drawl. The big smile didn’t hurt either.
“What do you recommend to take the edge off as quickly as possible?”
Attractive bartender nodded. “I have just the thing.” He started grabbing bottles. Meanwhile, the guy sitting in the stool next to me, a big burly redhead with bloodshot blue eyes and ruddy cheeks, tipped his chin in greeting while he unapologetically checked me out. His gaze paused on my diamond wedding band while he brought a bottle of Budweiser to his lips and sipped.
“Randy––” he said by way of greeting. “How long you been married?”
Smiling tightly, I gave him the only honest answer I could. “Not long.”
Enough to be sitting here with you, I thought to myself.
In an alternate reality I had a real husband who couldn’t keep his hands off me or my privates and we had great friends and took fun vacations. Not in this one. In this one my husband had orgies that didn’t include me. He touched other people’s privates.
Whatever. Randy didn’t need to know there was trouble in paradise.
An hour later, after getting a detailed blow-by-blow of all three of Randy’s divorces, I was starting to regret ever coming out of the cabin.
“I woulda gone to counseling….” Randy croaked, expression completely befuddled. “I woulda if she gave me half the chance…” Burp. “…but she didn’t, said she needed someone that shared her interests…” He air quoted. “Maybe she coulda shared that her fucking interest was gettin’ double teamed before she decided to marry me…” Burp. “Bitch.”
Someone tapped me on the shoulder. Glancing to my right, I found a cowboy staring right back. And not just any cowboy, nooo, this was the kind of cowboy a bad, lonely wife could drown her sorrows in. In theory, I mean. I could indulge in fantasies of playing bad lonely wife, but in real life I could never betray anyone––not even a man I had no claim on and who didn’t want one on me.
Principles are a bummer. Stay away from them, kids.
My eyes widened as I took in impossibly gorgeous cowboy’s face. Tilted green eyes under winged dark brows, a deep tan, a jaw that could cut diamond into ribbons, and a mouth made for sinning. How this guy’s face wasn’t on a Times Square billboard was a mystery. He was young too. Early twenties, I estimated by the fresh face and tall lanky build. As my gaze ran down his body, I took back every disparaging remark I’d ever thought about checkered shirts and tooled belts.
