Cowboy Fever & Tomas: Cowboy Homecoming by Joanna Wayne

Author:Joanna Wayne
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2015-11-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THREE

CHEYENNE’S HEART POUNDED in her chest at an alarming rate—too alarming to suit her. What was Tuf doing here? And why was he still standing at the door?

Closing the glass case with a snap, she asked again, “Can I help you with something?”

He removed his hat like a true gentleman and stepped closer to her. Well over six feet with wide shoulders, he was a little intimidating, which she was made very aware of by the flutter in her stomach. His dark brown hair was cut short and neat, and the lines of his face were all sharp bones and angles. A tiny scar over his left cheek added to his manly image.

The scar wasn’t something new. He’d had it in school. Rumor was he’d fallen off a horse when he was about three and hit a water trough.

“Is Austin here?”

She cleared her throat. “No…no, he’s over at the diner having coffee with Dinah. He should be back shortly.”

“Oh.” He looked around. “I need some clothes. Do you mind if I look around?”

“Um…no.” Was she supposed to help him? Why couldn’t he wait until Austin returned?

He settled his hat onto his head and glanced at the items on racks and shelves. Without taking time to look at anything, he grabbed T-shirts, socks, long johns and Jockey shorts.

He wears briefs.

Cheyenne took a deep breath. She really didn’t need to know that.

After laying his load on the counter, he walked to a round rack of Western shirts. He found his size and reached for a handful. Good heavens, he didn’t even look at the style or the color. Unable to stand it, she made her way to his side and tried not to frown.

“Don’t you want to look at the shirts?”

“No. Why?”

She suppressed a groan. “They’re different. Some are solids, prints, plaids and checks.”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s a shirt.”

She gritted her teeth. “Some have snaps. Some have buttons.”

“Doesn’t matter. I can handle both.”

“This is ridiculous. No one buys clothes without looking at them.”

He shrugged. “I’ve been buying my clothes since I was about sixteen and that’s my method.”

That would account for that god-awful shirt he wore in school.

He pointed to her face. “You’re frowning. What’s wrong with the way I buy clothes?”

Now she’d stepped in it. Why was she even talking to him? She should have stayed at the counter. She bit her lip and stepped in a little deeper. “I was remembering that bright pumpkin-orange shirt with purple piping you wore in school. Evidently you had on sunglasses when you bought it.”

He gave a cocky grin. “Ah, the orange shirt. My friends and I were in Billings getting rodeo supplies and they had that shirt in the window. I said someone would have to pay me to wear something so gaudy. Well, that’s what my friends did. They bought it and paid me twenty bucks to wear it to school. It got a lot of attention and laughs. I’m sure I still have it. My mom never throws anything away. It’s too small for me now, but you can have it if you like.

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