Read Online Cowgirl Crazy (#2, Cowboy Way) by Becky McGraw - Free Book Online
Authors: Becky McGraw
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his eyes off of her pert ass as she stomped off toward the bedroom.
He reached down to stroke his painful erection, and growled out his
frustration as she slammed the bedroom door.
Twyla slammed drawers as she rifled through
them to find her riding clothes. She quickly shed her pajama pants,
and jerked on her jeans. Ryan Easter was determined to drive her
nuts. That’s the only explanation she could come up with for his
being here at all. For his saying what he’d said to her in the
kitchen. The tug of war between them was over, as far as she was
concerned. She was trying to put her feelings for him to
rest.
Why the hell wouldn’t he let her?
She was trying to give him what he wanted. If
he’d been struggling that bad for so many years to keep his hands
to himself like he said, then why wasn’t he happy about it? Was he
trying to torture her? Was his fricking ego so big, he couldn’t
just let sleeping dogs lie? Did he miss her tagging after him like
a sad-eyed puppy craving a scrap of his attention?
That had to be it.
The man had been chased by so many buckle
bunnies she couldn’t count them on both hands and her toes. He
seemed to like that chase, rubbed those women in her face often.
Twyla had called off the chase, and now he wanted her back in the
race.
Not happening.
Even if he taunted her, tortured her, by
walking around in those tight, white underwear with his dick the
size of a cucumber. Even if he dropped his drawers in front of her
like he had last night looking like an ice cream sundae with a
Twinkie on top. Twyla wasn’t interested. There was nothing the man
could do to tempt her do that now.
Absolutely. Fucking. Nothing.
Then why did her hands shake so badly when she
picked up her worn t-shirt to pull it over her head. They shook so
badly she could barely scrape her hair back into a ponytail. She
covered the tangled mess with her ratty straw Stetson, tucked in
her t-shirt and somehow managed to slide the supple leather belt
with her high school barrel racing award buckle through the loops
at her waist. That belt buckle and her saddle were the only awards
she’d ever received in the sport. That day had been a shining
moment for her, and both Zack and Ryan had been there to watch her
ride, and receive her prizes. That night had been the night Ryan
had almost kissed her.
Definitely a turning point for her.
The night he told her to get a life was
another. Her eyes burned and she rolled them and sucked in a sharp
breath, letting it out slowly. She needed to remember that night
over the other one so she could keep her resolve. And she would do
that.
Ryan Easter needed to leave her the hell
alone.
Twyla straightened her shoulders, grabbed her
keys off of the dresser, then opened the bedroom door. Ryan stood
there with his hand raised to knock. At least he had on his jeans
now.
“ What do you want?” she asked
gruffly as she brushed past him, and strode across the living room
to the door.
“ I wanted to see if you wanted to
do something tonight. Go somewhere so we can talk?”
Twyla stopped with her hand on the front
doorknob and looked back at him. “What part of done don’t you
understand, Ryan? I have nothing to say to you.” Twyla twisted the
door knob, and swung it open. “You’re the one who needs to get a
life. I suggest you get to it,” she growled as she walked out and
slammed it behind her.
Walking to the top of the stairs, Twyla paused
moment to get control of her breathing. Her heart was beating so
hard against her ribs, it felt like it would splinter in her chest.
Twyla double-timed her steps down the stairs and jogged to her
truck. She got inside and fumbled to get the keys into the
ignition.
The faster she could get out of here, the
better. The emotion building in her chest, and forcing its way up
to her throat was never a good sign. It meant she might become a
girl at any moment. Something Twyla hated, and refused to give
into. Crying was something weak women
his eyes off of her pert ass as she stomped off toward the bedroom.
He reached down to stroke his painful erection, and growled out his
frustration as she slammed the bedroom door.
Twyla slammed drawers as she rifled through
them to find her riding clothes. She quickly shed her pajama pants,
and jerked on her jeans. Ryan Easter was determined to drive her
nuts. That’s the only explanation she could come up with for his
being here at all. For his saying what he’d said to her in the
kitchen. The tug of war between them was over, as far as she was
concerned. She was trying to put her feelings for him to
rest.
Why the hell wouldn’t he let her?
She was trying to give him what he wanted. If
he’d been struggling that bad for so many years to keep his hands
to himself like he said, then why wasn’t he happy about it? Was he
trying to torture her? Was his fricking ego so big, he couldn’t
just let sleeping dogs lie? Did he miss her tagging after him like
a sad-eyed puppy craving a scrap of his attention?
That had to be it.
The man had been chased by so many buckle
bunnies she couldn’t count them on both hands and her toes. He
seemed to like that chase, rubbed those women in her face often.
Twyla had called off the chase, and now he wanted her back in the
race.
Not happening.
Even if he taunted her, tortured her, by
walking around in those tight, white underwear with his dick the
size of a cucumber. Even if he dropped his drawers in front of her
like he had last night looking like an ice cream sundae with a
Twinkie on top. Twyla wasn’t interested. There was nothing the man
could do to tempt her do that now.
Absolutely. Fucking. Nothing.
Then why did her hands shake so badly when she
picked up her worn t-shirt to pull it over her head. They shook so
badly she could barely scrape her hair back into a ponytail. She
covered the tangled mess with her ratty straw Stetson, tucked in
her t-shirt and somehow managed to slide the supple leather belt
with her high school barrel racing award buckle through the loops
at her waist. That belt buckle and her saddle were the only awards
she’d ever received in the sport. That day had been a shining
moment for her, and both Zack and Ryan had been there to watch her
ride, and receive her prizes. That night had been the night Ryan
had almost kissed her.
Definitely a turning point for her.
The night he told her to get a life was
another. Her eyes burned and she rolled them and sucked in a sharp
breath, letting it out slowly. She needed to remember that night
over the other one so she could keep her resolve. And she would do
that.
Ryan Easter needed to leave her the hell
alone.
Twyla straightened her shoulders, grabbed her
keys off of the dresser, then opened the bedroom door. Ryan stood
there with his hand raised to knock. At least he had on his jeans
now.
“ What do you want?” she asked
gruffly as she brushed past him, and strode across the living room
to the door.
“ I wanted to see if you wanted to
do something tonight. Go somewhere so we can talk?”
Twyla stopped with her hand on the front
doorknob and looked back at him. “What part of done don’t you
understand, Ryan? I have nothing to say to you.” Twyla twisted the
door knob, and swung it open. “You’re the one who needs to get a
life. I suggest you get to it,” she growled as she walked out and
slammed it behind her.
Walking to the top of the stairs, Twyla paused
moment to get control of her breathing. Her heart was beating so
hard against her ribs, it felt like it would splinter in her chest.
Twyla double-timed her steps down the stairs and jogged to her
truck. She got inside and fumbled to get the keys into the
ignition.
The faster she could get out of here, the
better. The emotion building in her chest, and forcing its way up
to her throat was never a good sign. It meant she might become a
girl at any moment. Something Twyla hated, and refused to give
into. Crying was something weak women
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