What if 20 cowboys compete and you're the prize?
“Remember, cowboys. Keep your hands in your laps and your peckers in your pants. At least until it’s time to play your part.” Hugh paced down the line of twenty cowboys and dropped a file in each man’s hands.
The manila folders held a profile sheet containing a different woman’s photo, personal information and everything that man needed to know to rock the lady’s world, Boot Knockers style.
Hugh stopped in front of Riggs Archer, his best friend and the only guy not to follow protocol in the past. “Keep your—”
Riggs tugged the brim of his hat lower to avoid Hugh’s gaze. “I know, I know. Hands in my lap. No pushing the button until my lady comes up.”
“And keep your—”
Riggs shot him a glare. “Pecker. In. Pants.”
“Thass right, Archer.” Hugh grinned and nudged his friend’s hat with his knuckles, shoving it back enough to see the smoldering sparks in Riggs’s dark eyes.
Hugh’s stomach clenched and he passed Riggs his folder to cover his reaction.
Once the information was all distributed, Hugh watched the guys flip through the paperwork. The twenty women were hand-selected by the female production manager, Isabel. She was great at matching the men’s sexual strengths to the women’s needs.
A virgin needing deflowered? Jack was her man. He’d singlehandedly popped over thirty cherries in the four years they’d been running the Boot Knockers Ranch.
Ty excelled at treating women with body dysmorphic disorder. The women who spent a week under his care—and under his muscled body—left with the confidence of a supermodel.
And Hugh…well, he wasn’t playing this hand. Twenty women. Twenty men. He only filled in when necessary. His balls clenched at the idea of a celibate week, but he could tough it out. Maybe some lady would get kinky and ask for a voyeur.
“They’re lined up backstage,” Isabel whispered, and he gave a nod of recognition.
“You heard her, boys. Get to your seats. Fight over them a little. The show’s only for the ladies, but give ’em a good one. Make them feel special, because they are.” Hugh waved his fellow Boot Knockers toward the front of the auditorium. In three minutes, the lights would dim. In five, the first woman would walk
onto the stage.
She might carry scars inside or out. Either way, she was leaving the Boot Knockers Ranch as one satisfied lady. Their goal was to treat much more than sexual disorders. When the invitee left the two-hundred-acre Texas ranch, she’d be equipped to pick up where she’d just left off—embarking on new relationships and sexual journeys.
The thud of boot heels drifted away from Hugh as the guys practically ran to their seats. A new group of women…and the chase was the best part. The gals selected the cowboys they were attracted to from photographs. Though the guys were assigned to one lady, they still made it look as if they won her.
Yeah, only one woman each unless Riggs gets trigger-happy again and hits the button for a gal who wasn’t assigned to him.
Women paid to come and enjoy the Texas countryside and pampering the cowboys could provide. The Boot Knockers just happened to love helping women in a lot of ways, so they each took charge of a guest.
“Hugh, would you mind looking at this lineup?” Isabel caught his attention, and he focused on her. Petite and chestnut-haired, she did everything in her power to make him take her to bed. But it was against his personal rules. She’d had a few go’s with other cowboys, and he’d heard she was a wildcat.
He couldn’t stop the grin from twitching at the corner of his mouth. He pulled his hat lower to keep her from seeing too much. Such as how he knew she liked taking two guys at once while another plugged her mouth.
Clearing his throat, he scanned the list of women about to step onstage. Isabel had chosen well from the hundreds who applied to the Boot Knockers Ranch each year. “Looks good as always, Isabel.” He let his gaze drop low enough to make her face flush.
She waved her clipboard, fanning her warm brown hair off her round face. “Thanks, Hugh. I like to get your approval before the girls go on.”
She glanced at the stage door. Women huddled there. All shapes and sizes. Some were hurt physically, emotionally. Others fighting their way back from bloody divorces. One or two might be socially backward. And there was probably at least one virgin. Jack would be happy.
Hugh looked over the fresh group of females. “Let’s get started. Cue the first l’il lady.”