inner thighs and labia had been horrific. After multiple reconstructive surgeries, she had been assured that everything was in working order, but the idea of Ethan seeing or touching her far-from-perfect body filled her with shame. At her parent's urging, she had allowed the youth pastor at their church to talk her into a whirlwind courtship and marriage. But on their wedding night he had taken one look between her legs and promptly threw up over the side of the bed. The idea of Ethan reacting in a similar fashion had been the absolute worst thing that she could imagine. So Annalise had found her silver lining where she could. Instead of harboring anger toward Ethan, she had cherished every memory of him and used those memories to make the long, lonely nights bearable.
"Okay, I'll call you in a couple of days and let you know how I'm doing," Annalise promised her. Cecile had to bite her tongue to keep from asking Annalise to keep an eye out for a raven-haired, hunk with a darling, little dog named Mojo .
*****
"Hey, Tad! We could use your help over here." Bobby wasn't a cruel person, but he did have a keen sense of right and wrong. And he was just about to piss off an arrogant, urban cowboy-wannabe who had overstepped his bounds with a woman. There were plenty of buckle bunnies for the choosing. Bobby was just as guilty as the next rodeo cowboy of accepting what they offered – be it right or wrong – but he drew the line at demanding what wasn't offered. Even in their macho world of bucking broncs , sweaty men, and big-eyed eager girls – 'no' still meant 'no'. Bobby and Trace Montgomery had happened on Tad as he was pinning a young woman to the wall and fumbling with her breasts, while she had been begging for him to let her go. Bobby had pulled him off and they had drug him away and hauled him to the woodshed for a serious talking to. But Tad had persisted, and other women were complaining about his rough hand and asshole attitude. So, Bobby and the boys had decided to take him down a notch.
"What's up, Bobby?" Tad knew not to cross Stewart. Bobby was big, well-liked and could whup his ass at the drop of a hat.
"This bull's sick. We need you to help us take his temperature." Three other cowboys helped Bobby hold the pissed off bull tight in the loading chute. Sixteen hundred pounds of tense, mad bull strained to break free.
"I don't know what you mean," Tad was reluctant to get too close to the bull. He rode broncs and did some bull-dogging. Only the toughest cowboys mixed it with the bulls.
"We've tried to take his temp the regular way, but he keeps biting down on the thermometers and breaking them," Bobby said with a straight face. One of the other cowboys nearly choked on the out-and-out insane claim that Bobby was making.
"What do you want me to do – feel his forehead?" Tad eased closer, trying to keep as much distance as possible between him and the dangerous creature.
"No," Bobby spoke evenly and reasonably. "I need you to stick a couple of fingers up his rump and tell me how it feels – I mean, how hot it feels." Another cowboy coughed, trying to hold in his mirth. "If it feels as warm as – say – a fresh Dairy Queen hamburger – then old Cupcake here is gonna have to get a visit from the vet." Like a child, at the mention of a doctor visit – old Cupcake reared backwards almost dislodging all four of his captors.
Trace grabbed a new hold on the bull and laughed. "This old bull's acting like he understands every word you're saying."
Tad eased up and lifted the bull's tail. "Don't I get a pair of gloves or something?"
Bobby swallowed. This was just too good. "The gloves would dull your sense of touch," Bobby said evenly. "It's best if you just dive right in." They all held their breath as Tad Smith stuck his hand up the bull's rectum. It was a symphony of movement – as Tad pushed in – Cupcake pushed back. He bucked
"Okay, I'll call you in a couple of days and let you know how I'm doing," Annalise promised her. Cecile had to bite her tongue to keep from asking Annalise to keep an eye out for a raven-haired, hunk with a darling, little dog named Mojo .
*****
"Hey, Tad! We could use your help over here." Bobby wasn't a cruel person, but he did have a keen sense of right and wrong. And he was just about to piss off an arrogant, urban cowboy-wannabe who had overstepped his bounds with a woman. There were plenty of buckle bunnies for the choosing. Bobby was just as guilty as the next rodeo cowboy of accepting what they offered – be it right or wrong – but he drew the line at demanding what wasn't offered. Even in their macho world of bucking broncs , sweaty men, and big-eyed eager girls – 'no' still meant 'no'. Bobby and Trace Montgomery had happened on Tad as he was pinning a young woman to the wall and fumbling with her breasts, while she had been begging for him to let her go. Bobby had pulled him off and they had drug him away and hauled him to the woodshed for a serious talking to. But Tad had persisted, and other women were complaining about his rough hand and asshole attitude. So, Bobby and the boys had decided to take him down a notch.
"What's up, Bobby?" Tad knew not to cross Stewart. Bobby was big, well-liked and could whup his ass at the drop of a hat.
"This bull's sick. We need you to help us take his temperature." Three other cowboys helped Bobby hold the pissed off bull tight in the loading chute. Sixteen hundred pounds of tense, mad bull strained to break free.
"I don't know what you mean," Tad was reluctant to get too close to the bull. He rode broncs and did some bull-dogging. Only the toughest cowboys mixed it with the bulls.
"We've tried to take his temp the regular way, but he keeps biting down on the thermometers and breaking them," Bobby said with a straight face. One of the other cowboys nearly choked on the out-and-out insane claim that Bobby was making.
"What do you want me to do – feel his forehead?" Tad eased closer, trying to keep as much distance as possible between him and the dangerous creature.
"No," Bobby spoke evenly and reasonably. "I need you to stick a couple of fingers up his rump and tell me how it feels – I mean, how hot it feels." Another cowboy coughed, trying to hold in his mirth. "If it feels as warm as – say – a fresh Dairy Queen hamburger – then old Cupcake here is gonna have to get a visit from the vet." Like a child, at the mention of a doctor visit – old Cupcake reared backwards almost dislodging all four of his captors.
Trace grabbed a new hold on the bull and laughed. "This old bull's acting like he understands every word you're saying."
Tad eased up and lifted the bull's tail. "Don't I get a pair of gloves or something?"
Bobby swallowed. This was just too good. "The gloves would dull your sense of touch," Bobby said evenly. "It's best if you just dive right in." They all held their breath as Tad Smith stuck his hand up the bull's rectum. It was a symphony of movement – as Tad pushed in – Cupcake pushed back. He bucked
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