Well I’ve been an editing fool this week, primping and fluffing stories and taking out unnecessary words. Along the way, I’ve made it back to my cowboy story. It hasn’t gotten any hotter – yet. I was thinking I’d like to sneak in another sex scene, but first, it needs a whole other kind of scene to help cement the hero’s dilemma.
Should he or shouldn’t he retire?
Lifting his chin, he gripped his gear bag and walked to the booth, paying the entry fee. He went through the check-in process and went over his gear. Everything was officially approved. He left the booth fully sanctioned and ready to ride. They handed him the number for his vest—32. How lucky, reminding him of his age and the fact he couldn’t rodeo forever. Reminding him it was time to settle down with a decent lover. Like Cole.
And WTF is up with his past? Why is it every time Cole calls him “perfect” tiny shivers roll up his spine?
His mind blanked as he spilled into Cole. He couldn’t have said his own name. He said Cole’s, in one long hoarse shout. When he could see again, he loosened Cole’s legs and collapsed on top of him, pressing their torsos together creating a sweaty paradise.
He told himself he needed to possess Cole only because it had been so damn long since he’d ridden. That was all. Not because the man had called him perfect. But when Cole reached down, grabbed his head and kissed him, his kiss back had more than enough emotion in it to prove him a dirty liar.
I guess I’m a writing fool if I write down stories without hog-tying my characters and making them tell me. I guess I just figure that if it kicks around in my head long enough the answer will come to me.
And you know what? I think it just did!