Cowboy Affairs: Caught

Finally.

For the first time in months, the air in my lungs doesn’t feel heavy and dirty. Standing out here on the porch, watching the gold and purple sunrise bleed over the peaks of the mountains … it feels like a movie.

This is it - my new reality.

It took weeks of endless paperwork, sitting through the agonizingly dry reading of Granny’s will, and fighting with the local utility company just to get the power turned on in this old dusty house.

But yesterday, the lights finally flickered to life.

And today? Today is the start of the rest of my life. No more California city noises, no more working in this snobbish, old-fashioned company, no more expectations.

Just me, this incredible view, and a completely fresh slate.

And state.

It’s so quiet out here. Almost too quiet. There are no cars, no planes in the sky, and no human beings around for at least two miles.

And honestly?

That’s exactly what I needed.

As I look out over the valley, the morning mist clinging to the tall grass, a sudden wave of warmth hits me. I close my eyes, and suddenly I’m eight years old again.

God, the summers I spent here…

They were the only times in my childhood when I felt entirely free. I can still see my grandfather walking up the dirt driveway, his denim overalls covered in dust, tipping his hat to me.

And I still hear Granny’s laugh echoing from the kitchen window right behind me, the sweet, heavy scent of her peach cobbler baking in the oven.

Back then, this place felt like an endless kingdom of adventures. I’d spend hours running wild through the pastures, scraping my knees, climbing old oak trees without a single care in the world.

When my life in Bakersfield became a suffocating trap of deadlines, it was the memory of these mountains that kept me breathing.

Inheriting this place after Granny’s death wasn’t just about property; it was a lifeline.

A piece of them holding on to me, reminding me that I belonged somewhere.

This house is older now, and so am I. It’s got its scars, its creaks, and flaws… Just like me. But standing on this porch, I don’t feel the weight of the past anymore. I feel a fierce, bubbling excitement.

I’m going to rebuild myself right here on the foundation they laid for me. And I’ll rebuild this house back to the beauty it has in my memories.

And I’m so ready for this new chapter.

Now… if I could just channel some of Grandad’s handyman spirit and figure out how the hell to get the pilot light lit on that ancient hot water heater, I could actually take a shower that doesn’t freeze my skin off.

But, step by step, Daisy.

Step by step.

After spending days trying to get all my furniture from the moving company and at least getting the house’s most basic amenities set up so that life here in Wyoming is even possible, I'm finally braving the local culture.

The county fair here in Buffalo is massive. A swirling vortex of barbecues, fried food, tight jeans, and cowboy hats.

Gazing, I wander over to the rodeo circuit, entirely captivated by the sheer energy of this place.

And okay… maybe I also appreciate the views. The men around here are just … built differently. These broad shoulders, calloused hands, sun-kissed skin, and windblown hair have a certain… effect.

I’m lost in thought… completely overwhelmed and excited by all the memories I have from so many years ago through such different eyes. Which is why I don’t even realize I’m walking straight toward a group of young women until it’s too late.

“Hey, open your damn eyes!”

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you!”

“Better watch out, Emma. Looks like the city girl wandered off the asphalt.”

“What-?”

“Seriously. Look at these boots! Where’d you wear these? Coachella?

Not a single speck of dirt on ‘em.”

“What are you even doing here?”

“Trying to find you a real cowboy to fix up that crumbling shack your grandma left ya?”

“She probably doesn’t even know which end of a horse kicks.”

My stomach drops. I can feel heat rush to my face as a sudden wave of isolation crashes over me.

I open my mouth to defend myself, but before I can even find the right words, a sharp, confident voice cuts right through the crowd.

“Hey, why don’t you two go find a mirror to practice your sour faces in, huh? Get lost!”

“Urgh, whatever Lainey…”

“Come on, let’s leave the misfits to themselves.”

“Don’t mind them. The dust gets in their brain sometimes.”

“I’m Lainey. And you’re…?”

“Daisy Mae. But Daisy is fine. And… thank you.

I guess it really is that obvious I don’t belong here yet, isn’t it?”

“Hey, everyone’s gotta start somewhere. You’re the one who took over the old Anderson estate, right?”

“Mhm.”

“Ahh, yeah, it’s a gorgeous place. But it takes work, that’s for sure.”

“It does… I wish I knew where to start.”

“Listen, you shouldn’t have to feel helpless just because you didn’t grow up on a ranch. Not all of us are like Emma and Wren.”

“How about you meet me at the Oak Creek Ranch tomorrow morning? I think I can help you out with some tools and with getting you a bit more empowered. I can also introduce you to some people who can help you with the restoration and maybe they can teach you the ropes and give you some advice on where to get started?

How’s that sound?”

“Oh really? I’d love that.

It’d be such a great help.”

“Perfect! And now come on, I'll show you around a bit.”

The morning sun is still low when I pull up to Oak Creek Ranch, but this place is already alive.

And it is breathtaking - wide-open, wind-swept prairies that stretch into the distance, culminating in tall, snow-capped mountains, massive wooden barns and the sharp, clean scent of lodgepole pines mixes with the rich, earthy smell of leather and sweet alfalfa and drying hay…

I can feel the vibration of this place and the undeniable energy of hard, honest work in my chest.

I want this. I want to belong to a world that feels this real… to this world.

Lainey is already waiting for me at the main gate, a wide, welcoming grin on her face as she walks toward me.

“See? I told you it’s better than the fairgrounds. This ranch has been in the valley for four generations. Everyone here works hard, but we still look out for ourselves.”

Lainey sounds proud as she begins to show me around the property - the bunkhouse, the riding arena - and she also mentions that Oak Creek Ranch is one of the few ranches large enough to have its own workshops for leatherwork and farriery. She tilts her head toward a weathered, dark-timbered building a bit isolated from the main barns.

“It's chaos in the barn right now - a couple of guys are on their way to one of the cow pastures. So let's stop by the leather workshop first.”

“Sounds great!”

“Fair warning before we go inside - Jensen, our saddler, isn’t exactly a people person. He mostly keeps to himself and he’s a bit rough around the edges - sometimes more than just a bit.”

“But… if you want to know how things truly work around here, he’s the man to see. Just don’t mind his bite. He has a heart of gold, I promise.”

“Hey, Jensen.

Brought someone by, are you around?”

From the shadows at the back of the workshop, a man steps forward into the dim light of the morning sun, shining through the workshop windows.

Jensen is … imposing. He’s built like a brick wall, with dark brown, slightly messy hair framing his stern face. He’s wearing a pair of old denims and a brown shirt, probably linen or something like that, and his rolled-up sleeves expose his calloused, veiny hands.

He’s kinda hot… Although he’s probably twice my age.

He doesn't smile. He doesn't welcome me. He just stands there, a half-burned cigarette unlit between his lips, staring at me with a sharp, unreadable squint that feels like an interrogation.

“Lainey. I told you I’m backed up, I’ve got five saddle repairs. I don’t have time for tourists.”

“Jensen…”

“Oh, hey. I’m… not a tourist. I’m Daisy Mae …

Anderson? I’m Margaret’s granddaughter. I just… moved into her old estate.”

“Margaret’s blood, hm? I see.

“This valley eats people who don’t know how to sweat, girl. Your grandmother was a force of nature, but you? You look like the city still has its grip on you. If you’re planning on staying in that old dusty house, you’ll need a hell of a lot more than a pretty face and a well-known last name.”

Did he just… call me pretty?

Oh Daisy, get yourself together! He’s a rude asshole.

“I’m here to work and to learn, not to be coddled.”

“I don’t have the patience for greenhorns today. If you want to prove you’re worth the dust you’re standing on, go ask Owen about it by the training pens. He handles the heavy lifting around here… And usually the young chicks. So, don’t get on my nerves and get out of my workshop. I’ve got work to do.”

“Okay, come on. Let’s go before he throws his tools at us.”

“Thank you for your help, grumpyhead!”

From the workshop, we cross the yard toward the massive training barn, leaving Jensen’s heavy silence behind.

The barn door stands wide open, and the dusty air dances in the sunlight against the shadow cast by the large entrance.

As if by themselves, my eyes gravitate toward a young guy leaning against the wooden rails of a stall, talking to a gorgeous brown horse with a long, shaggy mane.

The man wears a sun stained cowboy hat tilted back, and his sleeves are rolled up, revealing broad forearms corded with muscle and dusted with dirt.

Somehow, he looks familiar.

He seems effortlessly at home, like he owns the dirt he’s standing on, but as he hears us walking toward the barn, his easy conversation with the horse stops.

Our eyes lock, and there’s this sudden, sharp jolt of mutual awareness. It’s a brief, quiet second, but neither of us looks away and I can see a cocky grin spreading on his sunkissed face.

“Owen! Drop the pitchfork for a second, we’ve got a special guest!”

Owen, hm?

He pushes himself off the rail in an almost elegant motion, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he walks towards us with a slow, easy stride.

With his slightly longer, blonde hair and his athletic build he’s definitely not hard to look at, but I just hold his gaze, meeting his grin.

“Well, now. Lainey, you usually bring me bad news, but today you brought me a vision. Good morning…?”

“Daisy Mae, but just Daisy is fine.”

My reply’s a bit flustered, when he stops for me to fill in his gap.

“Good Morning, Daisy.”

When he holds out his hand to me and I place mine in his, he brings it to his lips and gives me an unexpected kiss on the hand, which makes me giggle like a teenager.

And suddenly it occurs to me where I've seen Owen before. It was just yesterday, at the county fair... at the rodeo show where I met Lainey. He was one of the state championship rodeo champions.

Can that be true?

“Morning, Owen. Nice to meet you.”

“Oh, the pleasure is all mine.”

“Right, well… Daisy here is looking for a sort of apprenticeship. She wants to learn the basic skills about how to handle things around a property, so she can repair some things in the old Anderson house - and maybe also how to stand up to the nasty cows like Emma.”

Owen’s the best man for that. He actually helped build this barn with a few other ranch hands two years ago, he’s quite handy

- at least when he’s actually working and not just standing around looking pretty.”

“An apprenticeship, huh? I don’t know, Lainey. I’m a pretty tough teacher. Might require a lot of hands-on work.”

“Urgh, Owen!”

“Think you can handle me, Daisy?”

“I can handle a lot more than you think, Owen. Try me.”

I don’t know where my sudden confidence comes from. Maybe it’s because it really gets to me when people assume that I, a young woman from the big city, wouldn’t be able to handle life out here. Being underestimated has always motivated me to prove them wrong.

“I like that.”

“Alright, let’s do it. Show up here tomorrow, first thing in the morning. We’ll start with the basics.”

And before I know it, I’ve agreed, swept away by the feeling his warm, hearty laugh leaves in my heart.

Tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough.

Two weeks of working at this ranch has passed, and every single day has become a

beautiful, intoxicating torture.

And I love it. The physical labor is slowly getting easier, my hands are callousing over, and I’m actually starting to look like I know what I’m doing.

Sure, some comments from the other ranch hands weren’t as funny as they thought over my first few days, but I'm here to prove a point - mostly to myself.

I toss another heavy forkful of straw into the wheelbarrow, wiping a bead of sweat from my brow.

“Well, look at you. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re trying to outwork me today, Mae. Careful, you’re going to make the rest of us look bad.”

“Maybe you just need to pick up your pace, cowboy. I’ve already done five stalls this morning while you were playing rodeo star out there at the training ground.”

“Playing rodeo star? It requires a lot of training to get this good. And a god-given talent, of course.”

His wicked, confident smile drives me crazy although all I want to do is laugh and shake my head.

“And besides I was already checking perimeter fences in the north pasture, that’s real work too.”

“Oh yeah, horseback riding truly is real work.”

Owen steps closer and his finders deliberately brush against mine as he takes the handle of my pitchfork and takes it from me.

“Come on, let me help you finish this so I can show you how relaxing repairing fences really can be.”

I step back to give him room, crossing my arms as I watch him work. He moves to grab a heavy, compressed hay bale, his plaid shirt stretching tight across his broad shoulders as his muscles flex under the weight. It’s an effortless, powerful movement. He’s undeniable to look at, and the teasing tension that’s been simmering between us all week is pulsing right under the surface.

“Admit it. You’re just using this apprenticeship as an excuse to watch me lift heavy things.”

“Please, I’ve seen bigger hay bales lifted by smaller guys, Owen. Even my 70-year-old granddad could still handle them with ease. You’re not impressing me yet.”

His voice is dropping to a low, rumbling challenge when he turns around and steps closer.

“Oh really? What’s it going to impress you then, city girl?”

He’s close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off his chest as he eyes me with a cocky smile. I take a step back, planning a sneaky straw-attack. But just as I’m about to quietly step over the fresh hay behind me, my boot catches on a pile of straw.

“Whoa, there. Gravity: one, Daisy: zero.”

“You alright? Here, take my hand.”

I look up at him, his rugged shoulders framed against the dim barn rafters. His warm scent and that of the hay mingle as he reaches down for me and the whole scene, as embarrassed I might be, is entirely intoxicating.

And suddenly… I feel this forceful rush of adrenaline.

When I reach for his hand, my fingers wrap around his wrist tightly and I give him a sharp smirk, just before I pull him down with all my strength.

“Woah, hey!

“Damn, Mae… you play dirty!”

I don’t hear what he says because my attention is on the weight of his body on mine, and his heavy breathing as he presses me back into the hay.

“You alright, Mae? Am I crushing you? Let me–”

-Still breathing reacting-

But I must have lost my senses because my arms reach out and band around his waist, holding his body against me so he doesn’t move.

“Don’t.”

“Oh?”

-Still breathing reacting-

“You’re not crushing me… I… I like it.”

The concern on his handsome face shifts, and arrogant mischief tugs his lips into a grin.

“You like the feel of me on top of you?”

I nod, too afraid to speak because the spark of interest I felt when I first saw him roars into a wildfire of lust low in my belly at the way he’s looking at me.

“Good to know.”

“Do you want to know a secret?”

I nod again.

“I like the feel of you too. A whole lot, in fact.”

He rocks, just slightly, so I can feel the evidence of just how much he likes it against my thigh. He feels good, all hard muscle and the scent of harder work as his hips tilt and press his growing need into me.

“Do you want me to show you how much, Mae?”

I bite my lip, gaze searching his face as I try to make sense of just how much I want exactly that. I know I shouldn’t, he’s a heartbreaker and his wild ways are only a fraction of the reasons I should say no. Logically, I know that.

But logic’s not in charge right now.

“Show me, cowboy.”

He kisses with the same self-assured confidence he does everything else, like he owns it. I should be embarrassed by how eager I am to let him own me, but all I can think about is wanting more.

His arms cage me in, his big body pressing me into the hay beneath us as his kiss consumes me and the flush of need pools hot and low between my leggings-clad thighs.

His lips trail down my neck, kissing and licking as I arch my back, pressing my breasts against his chest and looking for more.

Our bodies move together like we’ve done this a thousand times, and his knee nudges my thighs apart just enough to slot his body into mine. Even fully dressed, it makes me desperate.

“Do you want to stop?”

“No. I want more.”

“Mmm, exactly what I thought you’d say.”

He’s so cocky. But he isn’t wrong.

My hands drop to his belt buckle, and I tug on the big rodeo showpiece he insists on wearing.

“So impatient, pretty girl. You just can’t wait for more of me, can you?”

I want to argue. Any other time, I would. But it’s been so long since I’ve been with anyone and he’s flipping open his belt buckle and then his jeans as he pulls his hard cock out so I can see him and…

“Holy shit.”

“Think you can take me?”

Honestly I have no idea If I can, but I know I want to try so with more confidence than I feel I tell him,

“Yes.”

He shifts then, rolling to his side but still holding my gaze as he says

“Then let’s ride, baby.”

My pussy throbs eagerly, and I make quick work of tugging off my boots and then my riding leggings so I can straddle the cowboy in front of me.

I don’t think about where we are, or how easy it would be to get caught. All I’m thinking about is how good it’s going to feel when he fills me up.

My thighs splay around his denim-clad hips and his cock juts up between us, just the tip pressing against my needy entrance as he holds himself still and waits for me to…

His hands find my hips, letting me set the pace as I slowly lower myself onto him inch by wicked inch.

“Now ride me, pretty girl.”

His strong hands on my hips hold me steady as I roll them, pressing our bodies together as the pressure between my thighs intensifies. I feel so full, so good, and it’s even better when he looks at me with parted lips and a heated gaze.

His eyes are dark with need as he watches me, his gaze fixed to the way my breasts bounce beneath my top as I roll my hips and ride his dick.

“You look so good like this.”

I reach down, tugging one of his hands from my hip and pressing it into my breast.

“How do I feel, cowboy?”

“Even. Fucking, better.”

The way he’s palming my tits with his big hands is almost as intoxicating as the way he fills me up and as I draw another figure-eight with my hips and feel him pulse inside me, I know I won’t last long like this.

I rock my hips, pressing my clit against him when I do. It feels so good.

“Look at you, you love it. You’re taking me so well. That’s it, baby, ride this dick.”

“I’m gonna…”

“Me, too… yes, so…

Close.”

The glow of the orgasm washing through me is doused with a bucket of cold water as I whip my head toward the sound and see… Jensen, leaning against the barn door, watching us.

“Enjoy the show, old man?”

“If you’re done screwing the city girl, I could use your help.”

Humiliation flushes my cheeks as I stand, grateful for a shirt long enough to cover me as I reach for my leggings. Owen doesn’t seem to care as he zips up.

But Jensen’s sharp, knowing glance he throws at me before he walks away leaves a completely different kind of heat burning in my chest.

“Been a pleasure, Mae. We should definitely do it again sometime.”

And with that he tips his hat and they both walk out the door, leaving me sore, satisfied and utterly embarrassed.

I stand alone in the wreckage of the loose straw, the silence rushing back into the stall. For a split second, a cold wave of instinctual panic tries to claw its way up my throat while a phantom warmth of blush creeps up my neck. My mind starts to spiral.

Did Jensen really just catch me half-dressed, breathless and riding a cowboy in their barn?

“No… Stop it…”

I catch myself, pulling my shoulders back up. I’m not doing this. I am a grown woman and I’m not going to let this place, or Jensen’s judgmental scowl, make me feel embarrassed or small for a choice I freely made.

I felt incredible.

It was wild, it was beautiful, and it was exactly what I wanted.

And I refuse to carry a shred of shame into my new life.

Jensen wants to play the silent judge? He wants to give me these heavy, knowing glances, and leave me to stew in my own head?

Yeah, not a chance.

If he’s got something to say about what he saw, he can say it to my face. I'm not going to wait until I have to bow down to him out of embarrassment.

I’m not hiding from a damn thing…