You were never the type of person to date a cowboy, well, you didn’t really date at all. You were used to the city, used to the loudness and the cars honking and the crowds of people when you’d try to walk through Times Square.

You didn’t even think the small job you worked at originally in New York would relocate but it did, preventing you to pack up all your belongings and move to a state you had never been to before.

Montana.

It was a small town, practically very small, just trees and mountains and out in the country. It was different, very different from the city. The town had more cowboys than you had ever seen in your life.

It was a long day at work, you wanted to have a drink and just chill for the rest of the night so you found a small bar on the corner. It seemed to be a special night since it was crowded with men in cowboy hats and woman drooling over them all.

You sat at the counter, nursing a glass of whiskey occasionally glancing around the room taking in the new scenery. Two men were standing on stage singing karaoke, drunkenly at that, laughing and messing up their words.

After that song ended they stumbled off the stage, one of the bumping shoulders with you as you went to stand and pay for your drink. “Sorry, darlin’.” The man spoke, half laughing at whatever is friend said.

That’s how it started, that was months ago, you saw him again when one of your co workers told you about this bull riding show that goes on every weekend, invited you to go with only to see the same guy on the bull.

It started out as a friendship, he taught you the ways of the country—his words—showed you how to ride a horse, clean stables and milk cows. It was very out of your scene.

Then it started like something else, accidental touches, glances at each other, some times he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you.

He was a gentleman, had that cowboy manners to him, always opening doors, holding your hand as you walked down steps, never let you pay for dinner.

He was perfect.

You sat in his bed, hair messy from just waking up as he still laid beside you fast asleep, paperwork in your lap—something you were supposed to do the night before but instead go caught up doing some festivities.

He laid on his stomach, no cowboy hat, just bare back, his muscles defined, sleeping in his boxers.