Eleven by Karen Rodgers Read Free Book Online Page A

movement of his mouth as he spoke and the cadence of his
words.
    The sun’s bright reflection danced off
his shades. He wasn’t wearing his hat that day. His hair was wavy
and silky to the touch. The short tendrils around the nape of his
neck were precious and manly all at the same time. Every feature
endeared him to me more and more.
    He was 47 and at the peak of his
manliness. Life had seasoned him to perfection. There was no longer
a trace of the arrogance or unsurety men in their twenties embody.
He was past the thirty-something crisis phase in which most of his
male counterparts suffer tumultuous need for reassurance of their
manhood.
    He had been molded by his experiences.
This was a man who had suffered loss and heartbreak. I could see
glimpses of it in his eyes. And I knew when someone goes through
what he had been through, they were less likely to hurt
another—they know what that kind of pain feels like and are less
likely to inflict it on someone else. He had been well tempered by
his past.
    For that reason, my heart felt safe
around him. I wasn’t accustomed to that feeling. It scared me. I
had to remind myself to let go of the insecurities of my own past.
Something inside me knew he was worth the risk.
    The look in his eyes also told me he
knew what to do with a woman if given the chance. This wasn’t his
first rodeo. I, however, felt as if I were about to be thrown into
the bull ring for the first time.
    I remembered the advice of one of my
sisters from long ago when I was at my first dance in Shamrock,
Texas. As I stood nervous and tense by the dance floor, a cowboy
approached me and asked me to dance.
    Initially, I had refused. But my sister
pushed me into his arms and said, “Just get out there and act like
you know what you’re doin’!”
    That’s some of the best advice I have
ever been given and it was about to become useful in my life, yet
again. As I looked the bull straight into the eyes, I prayed the
protective vest to shield my heart was well intact!
    He placed his right arm on the console.
I wasted no time in sliding my arm around his. I took his hand and
turned the palm up and began tracing the lines with my long
fingernail, beginning with the head line. Then I followed by slowly
tracing the half circle of his life line and the straight lines of
heart and fate.
    He shifted in his seat, looking
somewhat uncomfortable. He pulled his hand away and took a quick
turn off the highway onto the first turn-row we came to. He sped
down the dirt road for a short distance, then slammed on his breaks
and put the truck in park as we came to a sliding stop.
    Then he reached over and pulled me over
the console into his lap, spilling the tulips into the floorboard.
He began smothering my face with urgent kisses as he pulled me
closer to him, our chests tightly pressed against each other as his
strong arms firmly held me.
    When our lips finally parted and we
came up for air, he said in frustration, “Damn it, what are you
doing to me?”
    I was a bit worried until a huge smile
stretched across his face.
    “ You only touched the palm
of my hand and it damn near drove me crazy. I think you and I may
have a hard time making it to anywhere on time or getting anything
done,” he exclaimed.
    I felt as though I had just grabbed the
bull by the horns. Apparently, I had a pretty powerful grip over
him, as well!
    I slid back over to my side of the
truck, retrieved my tulips from the floorboard and said, “Put it in
drive, Mister. Let’s get our asses to the ranch!”
    He put the truck in drive, spun the
tires in a half-donut, and we were off—again.

Chapter 12
    Cowboy Up
    We reached the ranch around noon. About
thirty minutes prior to our arrival, he had pointed out the East
border of the ranch which was demarcated by the corner of a
mesquite posted barbed wire fence. Obviously, it was a rather large
expanse of territory.
    He made a left turn and drove up to the
gate; rolling his window down to enter a security