The scent of Jack, musky and worn from a day of horseback riding.

The weight of Jack's body straddling him, grinding down on his crotch.

The exquisite heat of Jack sliding down onto him, tight and perfect and with the tinest of moans.

The cold air hitting him as Jack suddenly pulled off of him and scrambled to retrieve what had fallen on the ground below.

"What the hell, Jack!"

"My hat fell off."

"Who cares about the cowboy hat, Jack?"

"Nathan. If we are on an Old West vacation. Then I am going to wear the hat."

Nathan sighed and tried hard not to use the word 'idiot.' "Fine," he said finally, "let's go to where we left off."

Jack grinned and replied, "Ride 'em, cowboy."