ON HOLD - Ellis Sutton, the sweet and caring Instagram influencer, has never felt the need to be romantically involved with a man despite her online fame. Everything seems fine until a two-week fling one summer when a handsome cowboy shakes things u...
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A year-ish ago
A friend once told me cowboys make better lovers.
She was right. It's true. They do.
Rugged and rough around the edges, warm, sun-kissed skin from hours of being outdoors, pressed against me. His rough, callused hands exploring as he pulls me over and under. Dark brown hair slipping through my fingers, his scruff rubbing against me in the most delicious way possible. Solid and tough, but so delicate with me at the same time.
It almost feels like I just dreamt him up over these past two weeks—a dream I never want to wake up from.
The click and the low hum of the hotel's AC unit turning on stirs me awake, the sun just peeking above the mountains surrounding the lake, casting a golden glow in the room.
We must have left the drapes open last night because everything is bathed in sunlight. I twist underneath the sheets, my hand reaching across the bed in search of Rhett's warm, solid body. The last thing I remember before falling asleep was telling him I needed to leave in a few minutes, and he just gripped my waist tighter in response, stopping me from going.
My hand glides across the mattress, finding his side empty. I lift my head, peeking open an eye to find him gone. Raising up on my elbows, I turn to the other side of the room, expecting him to be leaning against the dresser, a cup of coffee and a crooked smile, but he's not there either. In fact, everything seems to be picked up now, none of his belongings scattered across the room like last night. His duffel bag is gone from where it rested on the floor by the small desk. Not even his cowboy hat hangs from the ear of the chair—only a crumpled-up receipt and my clothes folded on the desk.
I knew he was leaving today. I just didn't expect him to leave without saying goodbye. I'm aware he's not the type to be tethered down to anything or anyone, and neither am I really, but the way he looked at me made it seem like I might have been his exception.
That he might have been my exception.
I bury my face in my hands, letting out a groan. I feel stupid and embarrassed. I shouldn't have been so lenient toward him. I normally never am with men.
I quickly get out of bed, tossing the sheet aside and hastily dress back into the outfit I snuck over here in. I refuse to linger here, in his hotel room, hoping he'll show up and wallowing in the disappointment when he doesn't.
I'm not that girl. I've never been that girl.
God, I should have listened to what my friend said about cowboys all those years ago because she had also told me that cowboys never say goodbye; it's not in their nature.
