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There's something about a cowboy	By : StormHD Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Trace Adkins Views: 1095 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the celebrity I am writing about. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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DISCLAIMER: I do not own Trace Adkins, his songs or anything related to his label. No profits are made due to this work. This is simply a work of my sick, twisted and ever so delightfully perverted imagination. Also I do not own any other artists who’s names might appear in this work. If yer dumb enough to run around and start rumors after reading this, then please allow me to suggest that you go commit yerself to a mental institution. No copyright infringements whatsoever are intended. I own ONLY the original characters and the story.

Rating: R –yes you get to read about sex in here…
Pairing: Jean Stone/ Trace Adkins and who ever else my wicked mind picks
Categories: Romance, Drama, Entertainment
Series: There’s something about a cowboy
Summary: Jean Stone, your everyday woman lost in her studies, shut from the outside world, but with a taste for the wild side, gets to meet the man of her dreams. Who knew he will end up being an idol of hers.
Warnings: Explicit sexual content, and I do mean EXPLICIT

The phone kept ringing. Her eyes lifted from the papers that lay spread in front of her on the large wooden desk. She sighed and grabbed the cell. Laura, of course it was Laura. She was probably having a blast at the concert along with all the other people in their little geeky group. Jean set the phone to mute and threw it somewhere between the pillows that rested on the sofa a few feet from her desk. The chair squeaked and moaned as she leaned back in it. One hand came up to her forehead to rub away some of the pressure that built up in there. It made no difference.
This was another perfect end of summer night wasted for the benefit of her studies. If her masters was not going to kill her, then the lack of a social life will. Well maybe they went hand in hand. Her parents had been more than supportive, but at times she felt that she was doing all this for their pride and joy more than for herself. Good things will come to her once she is done, or at least that is what the woman constantly kept telling herself. Her own way of a pep talk when ever life wanted to push her down and make her feel miserable.
For some reason, the scent of the steaming coffee reminded her of the race track. Oh yes, the only place where she could escape. There, behind the wheel, racing the quarter mile, feeling the vibrations from the engine running through her body, her heart beating in perfect timing with the 8 cylinders of her Trans Am, the G force her body gratefully took each time the NOS kicked in at full throttle, that is when she felt alive. Winning was not the important thing. Being there was. Everyone knew who she was out at the track, but no one could figure her out. Always silent, keeping most of the time to herself, and yet she was confident, a look in her eyes that told them she was not one to mess with. Out at the track she traded her business suit for the racing gear, the leathers, the heavy jackets, the helmet, tight gloves and her perfume mixed with the smell of gasoline.
Her helmet rested on a shelf above the desk. With a smirk she looked up at it. What if for tonight she was going to go out and race, relax, get a little adrenaline rush, then come back and continue her work. Well that sounded like a plan.
With that in mind, Jean sat up from her desk, took a quick shower, slid into her gear and went in the garage. There, the black Trans Am waited quietly. It didn’t take her long to change the street tires with the racing ones, check a few things at the engine and run a quick diagnosis with the computer. When the woman was sure that the vehicle was ready, she pushed the key in the ignition. The moment the beast came alive so did she. A soft smile spread over her lovely full red lips, her eyes lit up as if she was staring at a 4th of July sky. The garage door hissed open behind her, her eyes seemed to shine as her glance hit the rear view mirror. One gloved hand ran through her auburn hair before it rested on the stick and shifted into reverse.
On her way to the track she always seemed to rise the curiosity of other drivers. The black tinted windows prevented one from seeing inside the car, but the roar of the engine sure made heads turn, even when she was in idle, waiting at a traffic light. Jean passed by the location of the concert. It was quiet now, deserted, as if some one scared all the screaming fans away. Looking at that place it was hard to imagine all the musical passion that flared from it just hours ago. She sighed. Sure she wanted to be part of that, but her duties did get the best of her. To hell with that. It was now time for her to relax, burn a little rubber and enjoy the rest of the night before returning to work.
A few blocks away from the track, there was a gas station that sold racing fuel. High octane fuel meant for cars on the track. She only had perhaps 2 gallons of regular V-power in that tank, so mixing it up made little difference when it came to the performance on the quarter mile. Even though she enjoyed listening to the music of her engine, this time she also felt the need to check out some country. Despite her appearance, she was one to listen to anything from heavy metal to country, and right now she was in the mood for some southern comfort. Soon the sounds of Dierks Bentley with Every mile a memory, came on the radio. Jean started to sing along and turned it up a little more. It was one of her favorite driving songs, for the times when she felt a little mellow.
In no time at all, she was pulling the mammoth of a car in the gas station, right at the pump that sold her desired fuel. The door swung open and the roaring ceased when she twisted the key. Under the white and yellow lights of the station, her black, tall, fit figure seemed almost like that of a superhero. The woman left the door open to listen to the music. As she was pumping gas, a Trace Adkins song came on : Ladies love country boys. It was a bitter sweet feeling that came over her. That was the concert she missed, seeing Trace live was one of her biggest wishes, but some how , each time the opportunity showed, she had something else to do, just like tonight. Well at least she can stand there, pump gas and sing along, her body slowly swaying with the lyrics.
At the pump behind her, an old 1971 Chevelle pulled up. She heard the purr of that finely tuned engine, but at this point she felt little need to look around and investigate. Jean just stood there and continued her singing, her delicate body still moving with the music, her curves ever so outlined by the black leathers of her suit. The man in the Chevelle stopped and looked at her. He just stood there and listened to her singing, his eyes dancing over the delicious body before him. Such a delicate little flower wrapped up in a tight costume. Now that was something that could chase away the sleep from any man’s eyes. He smirked and took a step closer, then another and another, until he was only a couple of feet away from her. Yet she didn’t seem to bother with him.
As the song went on, the most adorable, sexy, low and god damn hot voice she had ever heard, was singing now over the lyrics. Jean looked away from her car, stopped dancing and turned to face the man. That very moment she felt sick to her stomach, her knees seemed to refuse to help her. Involuntarily her hand found the spoiler and rested there to support her entire frame.

THANK YOU so much for reading this. I know there are not alot of fan fics out there when it comes to country singers or bands,so heck i thought i throw one here. PLEASE GIVE REVIEWS!

NEXT CHAPTER---> She missed the show, but not the backstage party.
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There's something about a cowboy