A Cowboy of Her Own

Porter flipped on the TV, removed his boots and belt, then stretched out across the bed—on top of the covers—and watched Mr. Muscle demonstrate how to use the Bowflex home gym. Two hours later a dull twinge in Porter’s neck dragged him out of dreamland and he opened his eyes to a dark room and Wendy’s head resting on his chest.

He must have fallen asleep while she’d taken a shower. He was reluctant to move, deciding he liked having her snuggled against his side even if she slept beneath the covers. But his bladder demanded relief so he slid out from under Wendy and went into the bathroom. Twenty minutes later, after he brushed his teeth and took a hot shower, he was wide-awake. Back in the bedroom he sat in the chair and studied Wendy’s dark silhouette in bed.

She didn’t come close to any of the women he’d dated. She was smart—not that he made a habit of dating dummies, but most of the girls he took out didn’t aspire to higher goals than finding a husband, settling down and having children. Nothing wrong with that dream, but he admitted there was something sexy about a woman who was out in the world succeeding in life without a man by her side.

In the end it didn’t matter how Wendy impressed him. She wanted to go places with her career and all he wanted to do was stay put on a ranch and raise bucking horses. As much as she’d loosened up tonight and was fun to be with, he expected her to wake in the morning and act as if nothing had happened between them. Even his kiss would be a distant memory.