I desperately needed a break from city dwelling. My friends own a ranch in the country and invited me to stay. I should be ashamed to admit that I am so 'citified' that I almost refused the free vacation. After all, what is there to do on a ranch but watch where you're stepping?
As much as I try to chalk all of this "good ol' country living" up to cutesy hogwash, I can't help but enjoy the sun on my skin, the breeze at night, and the lulling sounds of sheep and cattle bleeting into the night air.
I have only ridden a horse once in my life and it was a miserable experience. Now that I was here, I thought I'd try again. Considering that I couldn't even manage to get my leg up over his back, I gave up and decided this would be a good time to take up hiking (in the city, the most hiking you get is running for a bus or away from muggers).
Even in jean shorts and a denim button down shirt, I still feel as though I look city. Oh well, who's going to see? A bunch of horses, sheep, and cows won't really care.
Being the cautious woman that I am, I decide to follow the post fence that outlines the perimeter of the property. I cross an open pasture and jump over a small stream. I can actually see another farm house and barn in the distance. Using the barn as a guide, I walk toward that direction. A white pick-up truck is parked there so perhaps there's actual LIFE there, of the human kind.
I bend down between the posts of the fence and squeeze through. My friends never mentioned neighbors so I didn't expect to find anyone so close by, especially someone like this!
In the barn, a shirtless man is moving bales of hay. He's obviously been busy for a while because he's glowing with sweat. His hands are encased in workman's gloves. He's wearing a white cowboy hat, jeans, and boots. The muscles in his shoulders and back are simply breathtaking to me. And even though every city bone in my body is repulsed by the smell of the barn and the stereotype of a cowboy, I can't help but admit that I am taken aback by this vision of country hunkdom. I can only stand and admire this earthy Adonis, speechless for one of the few times in my outspoken life.
He turns around to find me standing there, gawking. He smiles and greets me with a slightly accented "Hello." I explain that I am visiting the neighbors and was out for a walk when I spotted his ranch. He continues to work as I speak. As he walks by me, I catch a faint smell of sweat, hay, and animal. Normally, I would be disgusted by the "aroma therapy" but after seeing his blue eyes and an angelic, almost boyish face, I am entranced. He grabs another bale from the back of his truck and carries it past me.
Removing one of his gloves, he wipes the sweat off his brow, tilting his hat up off his brow. He begins to walk toward me, making my heart skip a beat, only to open his truck door and retrieve a thermos. He offers me a drink of now lukewarm coffee and I gladly accept (drinking from his thermos is hopefully not the only time I'll get to "swap spit" with him). I hand it back to him and he replaces the cap. A drip of coffee lingers to his lower lip and I take the opportunity when I see it.
I reach up and wipe the droplet from his mouth. He smiles and thanks me, addressing me as "ma'am."
My eyes are scanning his body. I can't help but notice that as he talks to me, his nipples are erect. His chest is fairly hairy but not ape-like. His pecs look so deliciously hard. I so desperately want to touch my palms to his chest and run my fingers through his chest hair, savoring those erect little nipples under my palms but I behave and smile and nod at whatever it was he was saying.
