Hearing the approaching vehicle, Garrett turned, gray eyes squinting against the glare of early morning sunlight reflecting off the windshield. A smile curved full lips that had, moments earlier, pressed tight in concentration of chores. He started for the driver’s side of the car, his footsteps gaining speed the closer he got. Before he reached the door it swung open, and she lept out. His heart stalled with his breath.
Sara. His reason for living was home. Never mind that she’d only been gone two hours, time stood still whenever she was away. It picked up where it had left off the instant she returned.
Little did he suspect that Sara carried him with her at all times.
The blue t-shirt hugged rippling pecs, arms taut and straining, as Garrett hefted another bale of hay. His butt tensed provocatively inside the softly aged material that fit like a second skin. He bucked hay with seemingly effortless ease onto the growing stack. When he removed the black cowboy hat to swipe sweat from his forehead, his brown hair ruffled in the light breeze, before he replaced the hat. Worn boots protected his feet as he swaggered with sure steps across the dusty, graveled yard to hoist another bale.
Sara was never without Garrett. He’d been permanently embedded into her mental retinas from the first moment she’d laid eyes on him. His mouth, the feel of his body, forever inlaid into hers from the first kiss. He was her man…her cowboy.
|What woman wouldn’t want a man like Garrett?
Chapter By Chapter Romantics proudly presents our first cumulative blogfest, and in the spirit of Thanksgiving we are blogging about: HEROES We’re Thankful For. We invite you to read a blog and then ‘hop’ on over to the next, and the next, until you’ve read about the hunky, sexy heroes we are thankful for!
Being a born and raised country girl-
I’m thankful for those HEROES in cowboy boots.
Growing up I lived for those wild nights at rodeos. The men, animals, thrills…did I mention those drop-dead sexy cowboys?
Back in my early days I hung out at rodeos. Can I say HEAVEN??? Most of my boyfriends in high school were cowboys. Most of my male friends were cowboys.
Love ’em. Those tall, silent and strong types who wear hats, boots, and ride horses. Is it any wonder? Can’t you just close your eyes and see Garrett (aside from the visual I’ve provided)? Don’t you crave a devotion and love like his for Sara?
For me, there’s nothing more sexy than a man in tight jeans and a shirt that makes me jealous of the way it’s allowed to cover and hug that masculine body. The way a cowboy hat sits regally atop his head as if daring me to remove it.
One of my favorite movie scenes is from the movie, Smokey and the Bandit. Burt Reynolds had just rescued Sally Fields from a disastrous wedding and she changed from her billowy white dress into jeans and shirt in the back seat of his black Trans Am.
She’s sitting beside him as they fly down the back country road when she turns to him and asks, “Do you always wear that hat?” “Always.” “You never take it off?” He gazes at her with a cocky grin…
“Lady, I only take this hat off for one thing.” It’s then she reaches over and takes his hat off—and then they abandon the road for a dense copse of trees. 😀
Okay, that may not be verbatim, and Burt Reynolds is no cowboy, but he’s as sexy as all get out in that scene!
Cowboys, to me, represent what a real man is all about. A hero who protects women, cherishes babies, and doesn’t falter in his own deep rooted beliefs. He’s also always sexy as hell! And he always, always gets the girl. But more than that- he knows how to admit when he’s wrong. He takes responsibility for his own actions, and often those of the ones around him.
I believe this is why I’m drawn to writing about those men. Because of what they stand for. The honor and deep sense of believability, respect. And — because they drive me crazy!
Any man can wear jeans, snazzy bling-bling shirts, a cowboy hat, and drive a fancy truck with a rifle rack in the back window. Doesn’t make him a ‘cowboy’ if he ain’t got a horse or bull trailing behind him, or or under him. My dad always called those guys drugstore cowboys. There’s a movie about these cowboy wanna-bes, Urban Coyboy, with John Travolta and Debra Winger. Great movie. One of my favorites. The characters rode electronic bulls in a bar. Wore fancy clothes and shiny boots, and had never been on a live bull, much less sat a horse. Drugstore cowboys.
It’s those men in dust covered boots, who ride like the devil’s after them, and know how to treat a lady that gets my blood pumping! Those, whose idea of bling is the glare of sun hitting their spur rowels. My kinda guy.
What about you? What’s your hero like? Is he a cowboy? Come on and dish.
Comment and follow my blog –since you’re already here and you know you’re dying to return- Then take a peek at these heroes from my gals of CBC.
Don’t forget to leave a comment and follow each of them –same reasons above apply. This is a subliminal message- letting us know who your favorite heroes are!