Three of Hearts Erotic Romance for Women by Kristina Wright

Author:Kristina Wright
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Three of Hearts Erotic Romance for Women
Publisher: Cleis Press
Published: 2015-02-23T16:00:00+00:00

DRINKING GAMES WITH COWBOYS

Axa Lee

I hadn’t seen Keith in nearly three years, not since college. So when he Facebooked me to say he was passing my way on his way north, I took him up on the offer to stop by. Justin and I had been fighting again, our on-again-off-again relationship definitely on the off. I needed a night out with the guys.

I was seventeen when I learned to love the skill of older men; men aged at least forty. Twenty years older than me works ideally. But in this society, it’s almost taboo to date even a decade above my own age bracket, which is currently a quarter century, so discretion is a must. So poor Justin (twenty-eight, I might add, a far cry from the “no dick under thirty” rule I held to at twenty) is stuck not only worrying about the good-looking guys I farm with and the occasional savvy farm girl I meet, but guys over forty as well. Well, he was stuck. He can now stick it. What can I say? A mature man is my weakness. If they’re cowboys, I swoon.

Guilford is with Keith when they pull in to pick me up. I throw my arms around Keith, barely able to reach around his shoulders, he’s so tall and I’m what he calls “vertically challenged.” I shove Guil in the shoulder when he teases me that I should carry a box to stand on for situations like this. He’s a bull rider, sometime bullfighter, an indifferent roper and only a few inches taller than me. I call Guil a pussy for missing the Reed City rodeo the previous weekend. A lot of people think there isn’t any decent rodeo in Michigan, and no cowboys. They are so wrong.

“They ain’t got no bulls,” he says. I scoff. They do have bulls, good ones, and he knows it.

“Chasin’ work or chasin’ tail?” I say.

“Ain’t that the same thing?” Keith says.

Guil’s a farrier and most of his clients are women. He’s famous for his “full-service” horse trimming and shoeing business.

I jump in the truck between them, grab an MGD off the floorboards of Keith’s old beater truck. The truck coughs as Keith shifts it into gear.

Beer never tastes as good as it does with Keith and Guil.

I’m grinning, sitting there between my boys, as we booze cruise through the cool spring night, bodies packed tightly on the bench seat. We turn the radio up, singing badly to Willie and Waylon and the boys. It thrills me, being pressed next to Keith. I’ve missed him so much. I’ve missed this. Getting off the farm on a warm night, cold beer, good friends and a back road. Justin’s had me so wrapped up in his drama (he wants me to get back together, move in with him, get a “big girl job” and sell the horses; I, in short, don’t) that my head aches. Getting back to this—banter between men over which one humps sheep, which one is gayer

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