Who’s Playing Who?
I look up at the expansive blue sky and breathe in the fresh air. There is nothing like taking a ride on my horse and soaking in the Colorado sunshine while I stare at the majestic peaks of the Rockies.
I feel at peace here, in complete harmony with nature, as I watch a hawk fly in circles above me.
My horse suddenly stops and twitches her ears, picking up a sound I can’t hear. Patting her neck, I ask, “What is it, girl?”
She nickers in response, pawing at the ground.
We’ve recently had trouble with a mountain lion stalking our cattle, and I’m worried that our herd may be in danger. I look in the direction her ears are pointing but can see nothing but the ancient cottonwood tree in the distance.
I lightly nudge her with my knees, and she starts toward it. As we approach, I swear I hear the sound of a woman crying on the other side of the large tree.
Slipping off my horse, I clear my throat, not wanting to startle her. I slowly walk around the immense trunk and see a young woman with long red hair sitting at the base of the tree. She has her arms wrapped around her legs and her head buried between her knees as she rocks herself.
“Are you okay, darlin’?” I ask gently.
She doesn’t respond, seemingly lost in her private pain. My heart constricts hearing her desperate cries.
“It’s going to be okay,” I assure her as I move closer. I feel an overwhelming need to comfort the woman. Reaching out, I place my hand lightly on her freckled shoulder and instantly feel a surge of connection—something I’ve never felt before.
Her cries cease the moment I touch her.
I hold my breath, my heart racing as she lifts her head to look at me.
I wake with a start, my heart still racing as I lie in the dark, listening to my roommate’s even breathing. I let out a ragged sigh, gutted that I didn’t get to see her face—again.
For some reason, the redhead haunts my dreams, and I’m left to wonder if she might be more than a figment of my imagination.
I can’t fall back asleep and watch silently as Thane gets up early to shower and prepare for his first class.
Before he leaves, he tells me, “Meet me at the college library this afternoon.”
“Why?”
He smirks. “Just meet me there.”
I find it amusing that Thane is acting mysterious. “Seriously, what’s this about, buddy?”
Slinging his backpack over his shoulder, he grins. “You know where to go if you want to find out.”
I shake my head as I get out of bed, chuckling. “You’re not setting me up on a blind date, are you?”
He just raises an eyebrow before heading out the door.
Thane certainly isn’t the solemn nerd I met on my first day of college. No, he’s changed. Still…this is highly unusual for him.
Something is definitely up.
I snort as I get up and start slinging textbooks into my backpack. My schedule is a rough one this year—a mixture of advanced mathematics and business administration courses—but I’m psyched about the semester ahead.
On graduation day, this cowboy plans to come charging out of college like a champion bull out of the gate and leave everyone eating my dust—including a certain Russian. I’m looking forward to showing Rytsar Durov that I’m serious competition.
His family may have a fortune while my family comes from humble means, but I’ve got what it takes to conquer the world.
I grab my hat on the off-chance Thane is setting me up with a girl. I’m a man proud of my country roots. Turns out, here in Los Angeles, it’s something the ladies respond to. Makes sense to me, considering women like to be treated with the respect they deserve. That was something my pop instilled in me when I was growing up.
I love the fairer sex and appreciate a woman’s unique femininity. Although I hope to find someone who completes me the way my parents complete each other, until that day arrives, I plan to enjoy every lady who wants to dance in the sheets with me.
Placing the black Stetson on my head, I leave for my first class.
Heidi, a vivacious brunette I met last semester, calls out to me as I walk past her. “Do you have plans for lunch, Brad?”
I tip my hat to her. “I do now.”
She giggles, hugging her books against her chest. “Mind if I invite a few of my friends?”
“Not at all.”
“Meet you for pizza, then?”
“Consider it a date,” I tell her with a wink.
I stride up to the entrance of Newsom Hall and open the door. I have a strange love for the smell of this old building. Its unique odor consists of old wood, linseed oil, and gypsum. It smells authentic and natural—unlike the synthetic materials used in the modern buildings of today.
The building’s scent is, in a way, a retelling of its history and the past fascinates me. I can see myself having fun restoring an old house someday.
I waltz into my finance class and sit down just before the professor walks in. Professor Rhodes is a scholarly woman in her fifties. She wears her reading glasses on a silver chain around her neck, which I happen to find alluring. The professor has no idea she drives me wild every time she slips those librarian glasses on to read her notes.
Can’t say what it is about a woman in glasses, but it gets me every time.
I glance away to avoid experiencing any unwanted reactions. However, I can’t help wondering if Professor Rhode would prove a good fit for my sizeable “shoe” and I unknowingly chuckle out loud.
Professor Rhodes lowers her glasses all cute-like and stares at me. “Mr. Anderson, can you tell the class what you find so amusing? I’m certain they’re all dying to know.”
I glance around the room, suddenly aware that my classmates are looking at me. Several of the guys are staring at the cowboy hat sitting on my desk. They wear smirks of superiority because they don’t take me seriously—never have.
They assume I’m just a simple-minded country boy. No matter how many times I’ve proven them wrong in class, they continue to project that ridiculous stereotype on me. I suspect the truth is they secretly feel threatened by me.
So, I ignore my classmates and focus on my professor. “I see where you are headed with this equation, Professor Rhodes, and I like the direction you’re taking.”
She smiles, staring at me above the rim of her glasses.
Damn, woman. You’re killing me.
Professor Rhodes is unaware of the effect she is having on me, but I feel my cock start to ache. Thankfully, she turns back to her equation on the whiteboard.
I admire Professor Rhode’s intelligence, as well as her talent for explaining complicated mathematical formulas. But, for the life of me, I can’t stop myself from imagining what she’d look like tied to a pole, waiting for a bite from my bullwhip.
Down boy.
I push myself back in my seat, discreetly slip my hat down into my lap, and force myself to think about other things.
It’s going to be a long class…
Read more in The Cowboy's Secret.
