by Megan Bauer

Created on: August 17, 2010

I woke up lying facedown in a pile of hay. Yep…that’s right. Hay. I struggled to sit up, grasping my head as it screamed its denial that I had dared to move positions. I squinted to see where the heck I was and as I looked at my surroundings I also noticed I was wearing spurs. Coherent thought was lost as I wondered how I managed to wind up wearing them and praying that I hadn’t molested any livestock. A hysterical giggle rose in my throat as I struggled to remember what happened last night.

 I felt the hay move and as I swiveled my head around I saw someone that I didn’t recognize lying two feet away from me. Connecting the dots, the spurs and the hay I stared at him mutely and slowly began to move away. Oh. My. God. He was hot but he must have been into some really kinky stuff and I must have been way too drunk to say no. I don’t even like farms!

 My nose crinkled and I began to turn away to try to stand up.

 “Wait!” he said, but I didn’t respond. I had no idea where I was and still couldn’t remember anything past the fourth tequila shot last night. “Nothing happened! I promise!”

 I looked back at him and gave him the stink eye. “Really?” I said, not even attempting to disguise my sarcasm. “How often is it you wake up in hay wearing spurs?”

 He grinned and I felt my heart skip a beat. For one crazy moment I wished something had happened, although I’m sure getting poked with a spur was probably a painful experience. I turned again to walk away because even Ted Bundy was cute and I had no idea who this guy was. I did not want to wind up filleted on a barbecue spit. Wearing spurs was one thing, winding up as someone else’s dinner was completely different.

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