Counterfeit Cowgirl (Love and Laughter) Read Online Free PDF

them for you.”
    “I don’t want you to get them for me.”
    “You can’t go out there like that.”
    “Are you sure?”
    He grinned. “I’d bet on it.”
    “How much?”
    “Ten bucks.”
    She smiled primly, like a fragile old lady who had just tasted the perfect tea. “A hundred.”
    He grinned and swung the door open with a flourish. Snow whistled past him. She blinked and stumbled back.
    “Have a go at it, honey,” he said.
    She took a deep breath, tucked her towel more firmly under itself, and marched out.
    Ty watched her go.
    Not for a moment did she increase or decrease her pace. Even when her bare feet sunk into the slush, she didn’t falter. She had the elegance of a princess and the tenacity of a pit bull. He watched her round the car and wrench the passenger door open. For a moment she bent to retrieve her purse, and though Ty knew he was a cad, he couldn’t help wishing she was on the near side of the car when she did so. Still, the view was pretty astounding from where he stood. He’d heard of women skiing in bikinis, but this beat all.
    In a moment she was behind the car. The trunk popped open. She dragged out a huge leather suitcase. But just as she did, the towel came loose. Ty held his breath. She dropped her luggage, tucked the towel more securely around her, and wrenched the case from the trunk.
    Ty would have helped her get the gargantuan thing up the steps if he could have moved. But the sight of her breasts, crunched between her arms as she struggled with the suitcase, held him immobilized. So she wrestled the thing across the porch and into the house alone.
    Though her hair had begun to freeze, the blaze from herazure eyes looked just about hot enough to melt damn near anything—including his insides.
    “Wow!” he said.
    “Give me my hundred.”
    “You don’t have any pockets.”
    The noise she made could only be described as a growl.
    Tyrel liked to think he wasn’t a total fool, so he turned on his heel and hurried to his bedroom, but by the time he’d dug out four twenties and two tens, she had disappeared into the bathroom with her suitcase.
    He couldn’t help knocking at the door. Perhaps it was the devil in him. His sister, Joann, had often said he was possessed by a nasty demon. “Mind if I come in?”
    “Try it and they won’t find your dead body until spring.”
    “This is spring,” he countered.
    The door burst open. Unfortunately she was an incredibly fast dresser. Perhaps she was a model, he thought. But before he could dwell on that, she had snatched the bills from his hand and was marching barefoot into the kitchen.
    She turned in the center of the room. “I’m hungry.”
    “We’ve got watered eggs and…” He trailed after her to lift the kettle from the burner. “Charred beans.”
    She was already rummaging through his cupboards, and in a moment pulled out a bag of potato chips.
    “Ahh, veggies,” he said, nodding toward the chips as he pulled a six-pack of beer from a shelf. “And protein.”
    “I don’t drink.”
    “I didn’t offer.”
    They finally sat in silent irritation, her eating stale potato chips and him drinking warm beer.
    By the time three cans were empty, Ty felt sick enough to quit, but not drunk enough to ignore her. She was dressed in a chunky yellow sweater and pants that hugged her legs with mouthwatering intimacy.
    He was a leg man. Always had been. Now Nate, he went for breasts. And old Pete…
    “Where do I sleep?”
    Her words stopped his reverie. She’d abandoned the chips and stood beside the table, two-thirds legs and one-half attitude, or something like that. Damn. He was more drunk than he’d thought. He should have put some food into his stomach before swilling beer.
    “Where do I sleep?” she repeated.
    “How about—”
    She stabbed a finger at him. “I wouldn’t say it if I were you.”
    “How do you know what I was going to say?”
    “I know your type.”
    “You sure?”
    “Yes. Male.”
    He laughed.