I turned to see my dark cowboy heading up the hill to me, on his horse, his body moving with his steed. From his dirty boots, blue jeans, black shirt, flannel, to that damn cowboy hat—he was a vision. I knew in that moment that Denver Langston would haunt me for the rest of my days. I would never forget him. I would never forget the fury in those gray eyes as he approached, dismounted the horse and charged towards me. His smoke blew out all around me, caging me in, holding me captive and I couldn’t breathe.
HOT.
