Dear God, don’t let him judge me
based on my house! I had tried to cautiously explain my situation
to him without going into too much detail. Remember the rules:
never ever talk about past relationships! I hoped he would see past
everything—and see me for who I really was.
Oh, God! Please let him like
me!
Through the sheer curtains and panes of
my front window, I saw a spotless black Chevy Silverado Crew Cab
pick-up pull up to the curb in front of my house. The driver’s side
door opened and I saw him step out, and then reach back in for his
hat. I peered through the break in the curtains and watched him as
he checked the tail of his deep blue starched shirt which was
tucked into the waist of his well-fitting Wrangler jeans. His black
cowboy boots matched his leather belt. He was obviously a Lucchese
fan, as well—full quill ostrich, no doubt. The belt was fastened
with a custom made silver and gold buckle that featured his ranch
brand. He smoothed his dark hair back as he crowned his head with a
black felt Stetson.
Good God, Almighty! I opened the front
door and saw 6 foot 7 inches of living, breathing chemistry
swaggering toward me. For one brief moment, I considered the
possibility that I might melt into my boots.
I quickly amended my silent prayer,
“Dear God in Heaven, don’t let me pass out!”
Hoping the “cat that swallowed the
canary” was a better look for me than the “drowned rat” look, I
greeted him with a warm smile and invited him to come inside. As he
walked inside, he removed his hat and hung it on the hat rack by
the front door.
His face actually flushed as he
politely introduced himself and said, “It’s nice to finally meet
you, ma’am.”
What a refreshing surprise! In spite of
his good looks that were of legendary proportions amongst my
friends: he was humble—he was shy! That grin: the one he had
brandished at the gas pump and concert—there it was; stretched
across a tanned face that was gorgeously weathered from riding and
working cattle.
He had the most genuinely beautiful
smile. He was even more handsome up close than from a distance. His
deep blue eyes were framed with long, dark lashes and the outside
corners were accented with distinguished creases when he smiled.
His hair was dark brown, almost black, and slightly wavy. It wasn’t
cut too short. It was the kind of mane you were tempted to run your
fingers through. There was slight greying at his temples. He had a
dark moustache that edged his upper lip and crested the corners of
his mouth. His lips were full and looked so velvety under the
trimmed line of his moustache. Irresistible.
Oh, and he smelled good—an intoxicating
mix of leather, testosterone, and Eternity by Calvin
Klein.
Oh, mercy!
After finally meeting him in person, I
felt much more at ease. However, I was totally mesmerized by him.
The eye contact was almost too intense, so I would defer my gaze to
his lips as he talked. I would have been perfectly happy just to
sit and stare at him for the rest of my life. Neither of us could
stop smiling. I was afraid I was going to suffer permanent wrinkle
damage from the parentheses surrounding my stretched
smile.
Once our polite introductions were
over, I asked him if he would like a glass of wine before we left
the house. He accepted my offer. I suggested he have a seat and
make himself at home. I went to the kitchen and poured half a glass
of Indigo Hills Merlot for each of us.
I returned to the living room with the
wine. As I handed him his glass, our fingers lightly touched. Zing!
There it was again—a tingling bolt of electricity shot all the way
up my outstretched limb. I looked down and realized I had goose
bumps on my arm. Then I felt the heat rise in my cheeks when I
realized he had noticed my erect nipples showing through the
blouse’s fabric which stretched across my breasts. His effect on me
was palpable—and obvious.
He attempted to look away for a moment
while he took a sip of wine.
Then he