Page 2 of Dirty Cowboys (Masked Men #7)
Indie
The sound of my alarm cuts through the room. Last night me had zero respect for this morning’s me.
My head pounds slightly from last night’s vodka, but the excitement of being somewhere completely new overrides the hangover.
I pad to the kitchen in my pajamas and make a coffee using the ancient machine.
Grabbing my phone off the table, I aim through the window and capture the morning light streaming across the open field, then immediately upload my favorite shot to my Instagram.
Morning hits different in country towns
#SmallTownMorning #CountryLife #NewBeginning s
By lunch, I’m showered, caffeinated, and ready to explore more of Copper Creek. I remember Wyatt mentioning a rodeo, and something about it being his first bull ride. The opportunity to document real-life bull riders for my followers is too good to pass up.
I pull on my newest pair of jeans and my cowboy boots, along with one of several western-ish style shirts I found online and a hat I haven’t been brave enough to wear yet.
My eyes burn after scrolling sales listings for old trucks. I need something reliable, but that will also help me fit in around here. I give up when I see it’s almost time to leave.
The drive into town is interesting, as my GPS has no idea where we are going, but after three wrong turns, I find the main street.
Wyatt didn’t mention where the rodeo is being held, so I planned to ask at the gas station, but as luck would have it, everyone in town must heading there at the same time.
I follow the line of trucks until they all pull into a makeshift parking lot.
My poor rental car will be covered in dirt by the time I have to take it back.
The atmosphere immediately hits me. The smell is a little overwhelming, country music blasts from the speakers, and people excitedly cheer from the stands. I raise my phone and start taking pictures I know my followers will eat up. I snap a wide shot of the arena and post it.
My first rodeo!
This is what Saturdays look like in small towns.
#RodeoNights #CountryLife #BullRiders
“You made it!”
I turn to see Wyatt jogging toward me. He is dressed in chaps, a protective vest, and a cowboy hat that’s seen better days.
“I didn’t want to miss your first bull ride,” I say, snapping a photo of him. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I might throw up,” he admits with a grin. “But also like I was born for this, you know?”
I don’t, but I nod anyway. “Can I film some behind-the-scenes content?”
“Sure, just don’t get any of me when I land on my ass. And tag me at Wyatt Morrison.”
As Wyatt heads off to prepare, I wander through the crowd with my phone, documenting everything. I snap a shot of the massive bulls in their holding pens.
These beasts are no joke. Mad respect to anyone brave enough to ride them.
#BullRiding #Respect #PowerfulAnimal s
“Nice boots.”
I turn to find a woman about my age with sun-streaked blonde hair and big blue eyes. She’s wearing jeans that have faded from the sun and boots that have clearly seen years of work.
“Thank you,” I say, then notice her slight smirk. “What?”
“Nothing, just that your boots are really pretty.”
Heat creeps up my neck. How am I supposed to wear them in if I don’t wear them? “I just moved here.”
“I can tell.” Her expression softens. “I’m Sarah Beth. Don’t mind me—we all had new boots once. It just takes some hard work to break them in properly.”
“Indie,” I introduce myself. “Any tips for not looking like such a city girl?”
“Time,” she says simply, “and maybe stepping in some horse shit. Those boots are meant to get dirty.”
Before I can respond, a voice comes over the loudspeaker announcing the start of the bull riding competition. Sarah Beth points toward the arena. “That’s where you’ll want to be to get the best view for your photos.”
I make my way to the fence surrounding the arena, positioning myself to get good shots of the action. The rider gets ready, and I quickly snap and post the photo.
Sh!t is about to get real .
#BullRiding #Respect #PowerfulAnimals
Then I spot them. Duke, Nash, and Walker are leaning against the fence about twenty feet to my right, and my breath catches. In daylight, they’re even more ruggedly handsome than they were in the dim bar last night.
I raise my phone and pretend to photograph the arena while sneaking some pictures of them. I manage the perfect shot, all three of them in profile, completely unaware of the camera. For a moment, I consider posting it, but something holds me back. Instead, I save it to my private folder.
“Ladies and gentlemen, our next rider is making his debut today. Wyatt Morrison on Thunder Strike.”
The crowd cheers, and I join them as Wyatt appears in the chute on top of a massive black bull.
My heart pounds as I focus my phone on him, but I’m very aware of the three men nearby.
Duke has straightened, his attention focused fully on the arena.
Nash is shouting so loudly I can hear him over the crowd.
Walker is gripping the fence, not giving much away, but he looks a little nervous.
The gate opens, and my heart is in my throat. The next few seconds feel like forever.
Wyatt stays on, barely, as the bull spins and bucks. One move has Wyatt flying off the bull, landing hard, and then rolling to his feet.
I’m snapping photos constantly with my phone, capturing as much as I can. I post the best of the lot on my feed.
HE DID IT! @WyattMorrison look at you go.
#BullRider #FirstRide #Fearless #ProudMoment
But when I lower my phone, I realize the three men are looking directly at me. Not at the arena, not at Wyatt’s celebration, but at me.
Duke tips his hat slightly. Nash grins and gives me a small wave. Walker just stares at me with those intense gray eyes until I feel heat crawling up my face. Then they turn as one and disappear into the crowd.
“Did you get it?!” I jump when Wyatt appears beside me, dusty and grinning from ear to ear. “Please tell me you got it!”
“Every second,” I assure him, showing him some of the shots on my phone’s screen. “These are fantastic.”
I quickly take another quick photo of Wyatt and post it.
The face of a future winner!
#Victory #SmallTown #RodeoLif e
We spend the next hour going through photos and videos, and Wyatt introduces me to what feels like half the town. Everyone is friendly, wanting to know where I come from and what I do. I snap photos throughout the event, saving some for later for a recap post.
As the night winds down and everyone packs up, I realize I haven’t seen Duke, Nash, or Walker since that moment by the arena. I scan the crowd one more time, but they seem to have vanished.
“Looking for someone?” Sarah Beth asks, appearing beside me again.
“Just some people I met yesterday. Duke and his friends.”
“Ah.” Her smile returns. “The Callahan boys. They don’t usually stick around for the social part. Probably headed back to work. Cattle don’t take Saturday nights off.”
“Callahan boys?”
“That’s just what everyone calls them around here. Why, are you interested in one of them?”
“I... no, I just met them yesterday. I’m not looking for anything like that.”
“Uh huh.” Sarah Beth’s expression says she doesn’t believe me for a second. “Well, just so you know, they’re good men. If you’re planning to stick around Copper Creek you’ll see plenty of them. This is a small town, so everyone runs into everyone eventually. ”
Sarah Beth and I exchange numbers—she wants to take me out to wear in my boots, whatever that means. Just so long as she doesn’t expect me to stand in horseshit deliberately like she mentioned earlier.
Making my way back to my car, I’m excited with how much content I managed to get tonight. There is also plenty of mental content for my blog. The drive back to the farmhouse is quiet, with only the radio and my thoughts for company. I know I made the right choice in coming here.
Back at the house, I upload the day’s photos to my laptop and start editing. The shots of Wyatt’s ride are so good, and I create one final Instagram story compilation of the whole day.
What an incredible first rodeo experience!
#NewLife #CountryGirl #Blessed
Afterward, I linger over the photos I took of Duke, Nash, and Walker. Finally, I open my blog, the cursor blinking as I try to find the words that capture what I’m feeling.
Small-Town Confessions - Part Two
Posted by Indie’s Inner Thoughts
Hey ,
I just got home from the rodeo. I’m buzzing with excitement and heat is pooling between my thighs because I had no idea how strong these cowboys really are.
Watching those men get thrown off massive bulls tonight, holy FUCK! The way they hit the dirt hard, roll, and then stand up like it was nothing. These aren’t just pretty faces in cowboy hats; these are men full of muscle.
I keep thinking about how the same hands that grip those ropes could grip me. How those arms that can hold on to a bucking thousand-pound animal could pin me down effortlessly. The way they brush off an impact that would hospitalize most people and just get back up.
If they can handle being thrown around by a bull and keep coming back for more, imagine what they could do to me. How they could use that strength to position me, to hold me down, to make me feel completely small and helpless in the best way possible.
I’m so fucking turned on right now I can barely think straight. Watching those cowboys tonight showed me exactly what I’ve been missing out on in the city. Men who are strong enough to handle me the way I need to be handled.
I don’t want gentle. I don’t want careful. No, I want to feel completely overpowered and owned.
Maybe it’s time to stop wondering and start experiencing what these men can do to me.
Stay spicy,
Indie xoxo