And his voice had definitely sounded sexier and deeper on the phone.
“I’m writing the story about you for American Lifestyle magazine.”
“Yes, I heard about that, and it’s actually Blake junior you’ll be writing about. I’m his father, Blake Whelan senior. Pleased to meet you, Ms. Spencer.”
He walked toward me and took off his hat before shaking hands with me. I guessed he was around seventy and had probably been a very handsome man in his younger days. Not that he wasn’t a handsome man, but time spent out in the sun, rounding up cattle, had made the skin around his eyes and mouth wrinkled and weathered-looking.
The other man with him touched his hat and nodded to me.
“My son’s in the stables. How about I walk you over there?” asked Blake senior. He put his hand on the small of my back and encouraged me to head outside.
The wind had picked up slightly, and it had suddenly turned overcast.
“Looks like we’ll get a storm before the day’s out,” he said as we headed across a path toward what I guessed were the stables. Hay was scattered outside, and the smell of horse manure suddenly invaded the air. I didn’t want him to think I was bothered by it, so I just gave a subtle cough to clear my nose.
Blake senior slid back an oversized wooden door, and there stood the most gorgeous man I’d ever set my eyes upon. He leaned against a post with a cowboy hat pushed back on his head. Yes, he looked like a real cowboy in his tight jeans and white shirt with buttons opened halfway down his chest. He stood watching another young guy brush one of the horses. It looked like the younger of the Blakes was in his early forties, maybe even late thirties. My immediate thought was there had to be a Mrs. Whelan around here someplace, because I couldn’t imagine some lady hadn’t already wrangled this cowboy.
“Blake, Fiona Spencer’s here to see you,” his father called over to him.
I was suddenly tongue-tied as he headed my way. Good old Bob for handing this assignment to me. I’d buy him a drink as soon as I got back to Boston. The cowboy got better looking the closer he got to me. Dirty-blond hair curled from underneath the brim of his hat. Green eyes, a sexy mouth and jaw, and broad shoulders. Shit, if he was the last one of his kind, they should have him cloned. Even his chest was tanned, with just the right amount of hair…in my opinion. The bulge in his crotch was very nice, too.
Definitely a candidate for cloning.
“Fiona, pleased to meet you.”
He reached for my hand and, like a schoolgirl who was finally meeting the movie star whose photo she’d taped to her wall, my knees wobbled, and my heart fluttered when I slipped my hand into his.
Nice, firm handshake, slightly calloused hands—working man. Probably would feel a little rough but nice touching my nipples, my belly—oh yeah, my clit, too.
I realized he’d asked me something, and I felt like a fool when both he and his dad stood there looking at me, waiting for an answer.
“Sorry, I didn’t catch that. I have a case of jetlag.” Shit. Jetlag, and I’d only traveled from Boston.
“I like this girl’s sense of humor,” said Blake senior. “Well, I have to be going. Fiona, nice to meet you. Make sure my son shows you some Big Sky Country hospitality while you’re here. You two have fun now and, son, I’ll see you next week at Jenine’s birthday barbecue.”
He shook my hand. Blake tipped his hat to his father and, after he’d left, the two of us just looked at one another.
“So where do we start?” he asked
The stable had a couple of flies circling around, and I was sure one was about to dive into my mouth because, right now, it was continually open in awe of this man. Bob should have warned me the cowboy was such a hunk or at least shown me a photo, so I could have prepared myself for our first meeting.
“How about I get a few photos of you in here? I mean, if that’s okay with you?”
“Whatever you need.
“I’m writing the story about you for American Lifestyle magazine.”
“Yes, I heard about that, and it’s actually Blake junior you’ll be writing about. I’m his father, Blake Whelan senior. Pleased to meet you, Ms. Spencer.”
He walked toward me and took off his hat before shaking hands with me. I guessed he was around seventy and had probably been a very handsome man in his younger days. Not that he wasn’t a handsome man, but time spent out in the sun, rounding up cattle, had made the skin around his eyes and mouth wrinkled and weathered-looking.
The other man with him touched his hat and nodded to me.
“My son’s in the stables. How about I walk you over there?” asked Blake senior. He put his hand on the small of my back and encouraged me to head outside.
The wind had picked up slightly, and it had suddenly turned overcast.
“Looks like we’ll get a storm before the day’s out,” he said as we headed across a path toward what I guessed were the stables. Hay was scattered outside, and the smell of horse manure suddenly invaded the air. I didn’t want him to think I was bothered by it, so I just gave a subtle cough to clear my nose.
Blake senior slid back an oversized wooden door, and there stood the most gorgeous man I’d ever set my eyes upon. He leaned against a post with a cowboy hat pushed back on his head. Yes, he looked like a real cowboy in his tight jeans and white shirt with buttons opened halfway down his chest. He stood watching another young guy brush one of the horses. It looked like the younger of the Blakes was in his early forties, maybe even late thirties. My immediate thought was there had to be a Mrs. Whelan around here someplace, because I couldn’t imagine some lady hadn’t already wrangled this cowboy.
“Blake, Fiona Spencer’s here to see you,” his father called over to him.
I was suddenly tongue-tied as he headed my way. Good old Bob for handing this assignment to me. I’d buy him a drink as soon as I got back to Boston. The cowboy got better looking the closer he got to me. Dirty-blond hair curled from underneath the brim of his hat. Green eyes, a sexy mouth and jaw, and broad shoulders. Shit, if he was the last one of his kind, they should have him cloned. Even his chest was tanned, with just the right amount of hair…in my opinion. The bulge in his crotch was very nice, too.
Definitely a candidate for cloning.
“Fiona, pleased to meet you.”
He reached for my hand and, like a schoolgirl who was finally meeting the movie star whose photo she’d taped to her wall, my knees wobbled, and my heart fluttered when I slipped my hand into his.
Nice, firm handshake, slightly calloused hands—working man. Probably would feel a little rough but nice touching my nipples, my belly—oh yeah, my clit, too.
I realized he’d asked me something, and I felt like a fool when both he and his dad stood there looking at me, waiting for an answer.
“Sorry, I didn’t catch that. I have a case of jetlag.” Shit. Jetlag, and I’d only traveled from Boston.
“I like this girl’s sense of humor,” said Blake senior. “Well, I have to be going. Fiona, nice to meet you. Make sure my son shows you some Big Sky Country hospitality while you’re here. You two have fun now and, son, I’ll see you next week at Jenine’s birthday barbecue.”
He shook my hand. Blake tipped his hat to his father and, after he’d left, the two of us just looked at one another.
“So where do we start?” he asked
The stable had a couple of flies circling around, and I was sure one was about to dive into my mouth because, right now, it was continually open in awe of this man. Bob should have warned me the cowboy was such a hunk or at least shown me a photo, so I could have prepared myself for our first meeting.
“How about I get a few photos of you in here? I mean, if that’s okay with you?”
“Whatever you need.
Similar Books
