"It's time, girl!"

God I hate those words. Every time I get him back, I can tell he's just biding his time until he can go back to his one true love. Can't he see how it makes me feel? I know he has to go, he wouldn't be the man I love if he didn't. I just wish sometimes that I could be the one that he's itching to get back to.

"Kiss me goodbye, sugar!"

Kiss him goodbye? Of course I will! I always will ... but oh how I wish I was kissing him hello! I walk over to him, reach up and twine my arms around his warm tan neck. I gently pull his head down while moving up onto my tippy-toes and raising my face to meet his. Our lips meet in a soft touch, heat emanates off our close bodies.

Breath quickens, hearts race, chests heave. Fingers slide up to thread through the tangle of dark curls at the nape of his neck. Mouths change angle quickly, tongues seeking succour only the other can give. We break apart.

"I'll be back soon, darlin'."

He turns to the door and opens it, picks up his worn duffel bag and strides out to his dusty pick-up. Boots clatter down the walk. I watch him open the door to the truck and throw his duffel in the passenger seat. He shuts the door and walks around to the driver's door. Opening the door, he looks up one final time and sends a wink my way along with a very wicked grin.

"Blow me a kiss, sugar!"

Leaning in the door jam, I blow him his kiss and wave my hand. He doesn't see the lone tear sliding down my cheek. He gets in and starts the truck, pulling away from the curb, away from home, away from me.

I turn and close the door. Walking around the house aimlessly, I find myself walking into the bedroom where we spent our last few hours together. Bed sheets lay in a tangle, the smell of him still lingering in the air from his recent shower. I lie down on his side of the bed and snuggle my face into his pillow taking a deep breath in, remembering our last week. God I miss him already. How can he stand this life? Going from one mistress to another? One city to another? Leaving me here, time and time again?

I get up from the bed, unable to lie there any longer without breaking down and crying myself raw. I walk out of the bedroom, back into the lounge and sit down. I pick up the remote and turn the stereo on low. Garth Brooks croons to me through the speakers. " ... broncs and the blood, steers and the mud..." I turn off the stereo, too distressed to listen to Garth singing about the very thing that has taken my heart away from me. I laugh mirthlessly, Mama always told me never to fall in love with a bull rider but I knew better. I close my eyes thinking of him. Tight Wranglers, big buckles, scuffed boots and a Stetson. What more could a girl want? I chuckle wryly.

Lost in memories, I don't here the rumble of a truck pulling up out the front of the house or the jingle of keys in the lock to the front door. Suddenly large, strong hands are lifting me up from the sofa, embracing me. Arms wrapped tightly round me, never wanting to let go. Soft, hot breaths puffing into the curve of my neck, while lips whispered, "I love you, sweetheart." Music to my ears.

I look up into the eyes of my treasured cowboy, my best friend, my lover, my loving husband. "I love you too, babe" I murmur.

He smiles at me with that cheeky grin as he swings me up into his arms, striding off to our bedroom. Standing at the end of the bed, he looks down at me. "I forgot something before I left."

"What?" I ask curiously. Knowing he never forgot anything when he had a ride waiting.

"You!" he said simply before tossing me down onto the bed and following after me. "I forgot you."

Smiling brightly through the tears, I pulled him close and kissed him gently on the mouth. "You can't forget something that's in your heart" I told him, busily working his shirt out of his jeans, anxious to feel his skin under my hands. Grasping his shirt in both hands, I ruthlessly pulled it apart. A girl's got to love those western shirts with the handy little pressed stud snaps. Pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, they went.

Lips met once again, tongues searching the dark recesses of each others mouth, trying to devour each other. Hands ran over denim, racing to unbuckle, unzip and undress. Quiet laughter trickled out from his mouth. "Slow down, sweet. It's not Survivor," he said. "We still have time."