Texas Two-Step: Cowboy Shuffle (3 page)

“So, I guess I’ll just get washed up.” Intent on getting out of the line of fire, Shooter headed for the entrance of their building. Ellen and Wes, grabbing the cooler, followed.

“I’m starving. What are we all doing for dinner?” Ellen glanced from Wes to Shooter.

Wes raised a brow at his sister. “Whatever we eat, I should make you buy. Do you know how much money we saved you changing that alternator ourselves?”

A pout settled upon her tempting lips. “Fine. I’ll order a pizza and I’ll pay.”

“Get two. I’m calling Maryann to come over. I haven’t seen her all day. And I want one pizza loaded with sausage.”

Ellen rolled her eyes. “Okay. Whatever.”

Everything was back to normal. Shooter’s hard-on had deflated. Wes and Ellen were bickering. Pizza was on the horizon. Everything was just the way it should be, until Ellen walked in front of him to get the door. Immediately Shooter noticed how just the bottom curve of her ass cheeks were exposed by the short cut-offs she was wearing and then his unruly penis was back at full tilt once again.

Shit. If this was going to be his new reaction to Ellen’s presence, he had better go out and get laid fast. Maybe then his urges would be satisfied and he could get things back to normal around his friend’s sister. The problem was this, sitting in Wes and Ellen’s living room eating pizza and watching TV was not the most conducive place to finding a willing woman to fuck. Not when his best friend was in love with one of the two women in the room, and the other woman was that friend’s sister, whom he was trying to get out of his head.

Shooter sighed. There was probably a party going on somewhere. He should hop in his truck and go cruising around looking. That wasn’t all that fun alone though.

From his chair, Shooter glanced over at Wes and Maryann on the couch, sitting so close their jeans had practically fused together. A few months ago, Wes and he would have been out together at a bar, or a party, or hell even just shooting some hoops. Not anymore.

He dared to glance over at Ellen. Thank God she’d dropped some pizza sauce on her shirt and had changed into something he could handle a little better. At least this tank top wasn’t white and he couldn’t see the outline of her nipples through the thin material and bra. She was still in those shorts though, keeping his dick at half-mast all through dinner.

If he didn’t get some tonight, he’d have to handle things himself. Jerking off in the shower wasn’t his preferred sexual outlet, but at this point he had no choice. It was obvious he was sexually deprived since he couldn’t keep his mind off Ellen.

Bored with the movie and in need of another beer, Shooter hoisted himself out of the recliner. He strolled toward the kitchen past the desk where Ellen was seated in front of her computer. Thankfully, her butt cheeks were currently hidden as she sat in the chair.

As he neared, she glanced up and then scrambled to hide whatever window she was working in on the computer screen. He frowned. That was weird. She was usually on some rodeo chatroom or something, but she never cared who saw.

“What are you up to?” His interest was piqued now. If she’d left the web browser up, he likely wouldn’t have even glanced at it, but her hurrying to close it while looking guilty had him intrigued.

“Nothing. Stop being nosy. Jeez.” She sent him a look so vicious, he took a step back.

“Fine. Don’t tell me.” Shooter would have thought that since he and Ellen were the only two people in the room not cooing into each other’s ears, they could at least be civil to one another. A show of solidarity for the single population of the world and all that. Guess not.

Still shaking his head, he went to the fridge and grabbed a beer. “Wes, you need another one?”

“Nah. I’m good, thanks.”

Popping the top, Shooter let out a derogatory snort. Wes didn’t even drink much anymore since Maryann. Maybe he should be thanking God he didn’t have a girlfriend if this was the result. No parties. No getting drunk. Who needed it? Definitely not him.

He plopped back into the reclining chair with enough force for the footrest to pop up, just as Ellen rose from her spot and headed for the bathroom. The door had barely closed behind her when Shooter was up, out of the chair and across the room. At least this may provide some entertainment for the evening.

“What are you doing?” Wes glanced over his shoulder.

“Seeing what Ellen’s up to on here.” Shooter may not be great on the computer but he knew enough to check the bottom of the screen and click the mouse on the Internet window Ellen had reduced to hide it from him.

Up popped a profile page featuring Ellen’s picture and the name “Griffin Girl”. He glanced at the top of the window and—holy shit—it was an online matchmaking site. His eyes popped open wide. Ellen was online looking for a man? Wow.

Before he could truly get a good look, he heard the jiggle of the bathroom doorknob. Shooter somehow managed to shrink the window again and vault over the back of his chair before she appeared in the living room from the hall leading to the bathroom.

Shooter caught Maryann’s eye and held one finger to his lips. She’d probably tell Ellen anyway, being her best friend and all, but it would be so much more fun if Shooter could save this information and use it later against Ellen. Like the next time she was mean to him about bringing home a girl.

He began to formulate clever comebacks about how at least his girls weren’t from the Internet, but he couldn’t concentrate. Ellen was really looking for a boyfriend online? Why? Why didn’t she just pick up a guy at the rodeo or even some dude from the hospital? Bitchy or not, Ellen was hot. She’d have no problem finding a guy, live and in person, without the Internet.

The more Shooter thought about it, the more the idea disturbed him. Ellen really hated him so much she’d date some weirdo—possibly a serial killer—she met online rather than date him? He’d asked her out years ago, when he and Wes had first gotten friendly, and she’d shot him down flat. It was insulting. He was a good-looking guy. Nice too. Hell, hadn’t he fixed her car today and jumpstarted her in the middle of the night?

A frown settled over his brow. He couldn’t even concentrate on the movie, not that the flick had been all that riveting before his discovery about Ellen’s online search. Shooter downed the last of his beer and stood. “I’m heading out.”

Maryann frowned up at him. “Already?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, you know, early morning tomorrow.”

Not exactly a lie. He did have to be at the construction site early, and he always stopped by the barn where he boarded his horse on the way to work, but Shooter wasn’t going home to go to bed. There was something else he had to do first.

“All right. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” Wes nodded in his direction.

“Yep. Night.” Shooter sent a general goodnight to the group, pointedly not singling out Ellen, who he was rushing home to stalk on that dating website—just to make sure it was safe for her to be on there, of course. What kind of friend would he be if he let his best friend’s sister get murdered or molested by some whacko she met online?

Luckily, Shooter lived fairly close to Wes and Ellen’s apartment. He was skidding into his parking space in less than ten minutes. He sprinted up the stairs to his apartment two at a time, and then was tapping his foot impatiently while the laptop took forever to boot up. Maybe if he turned the damn thing on more than once every two weeks it wouldn’t load a million updates when he did try to get online.

Finally, the computer cooperated and allowed him to open an Internet browser and type in the web address of the matchmaking site. Even just typing the URL made him frown. Ellen. On an online dating site when there were tons of guys right here in town interested in her. Shooter was sitting right there in the same room with her most nights. If she just wanted a guy, then why not him?

He was sure she wouldn’t have the same reserves he had about dating a friend’s sister. Ellen wouldn’t worry that Shooter was Wes’s best friend. In fact, if dating him would piss Wes off, all the better in Ellen’s mind. That was the kind of relationship the siblings had. They loved each other, but they also loved to fight.

The damn site wouldn't let him see a thing until he signed up for his own account. Figures. That’s how they roped you into this shit. With a scowl securely planted on his face, Shooter began typing in the information—just what was required and nothing more—dammit. It came time for him to choose a user name and he nearly typed in Shooter. Then he thought better of it. If he was going to spy on what was happening with Ellen, he needed some cover. It took him awhile to come up with a good name. Finally he settled on Buddy since he was Wes’s buddy and that was the only reason he was doing this. To help out a buddy’s sister. Yup.

He skipped whatever wasn’t mandatory, such as high school, occupation and photo, and then finally he was allowed to save his profile and go looking for Ellen. Luckily he’d seen her user name and was able to search her without too much effort. His heart began to beat a little faster while her page loaded. As her photo filled the left corner of the screen, he truly did feel sneaky doing this. Then he noticed how much boob she was showing in her picture and his resolve was firmer than ever.

Somebody needed to take care of this girl since she seemed incapable of doing so herself. Jeez. Flashing that amount of cleavage for any pervert who could open a free basic account at this site was not smart. Not one little bit. It would serve Ellen right if he turned her in to Wes. Her brother should be the one doing the protecting. That fact didn’t stop Shooter as he leaned closer to the screen and began reading the description she'd posted of herself.

I’m a Texas cowgirl/nurse who loves horses and is looking for a serious relationship with a man who wants to share my days and nights. My perfect partner would be kind, gentle, caring, respectful and reliable. No cowboys! No doctors! Open to any other profession.

Shooter leaned back with a frown. What the hell? Share her days and nights? That wasn’t too suggestive! And the man she described sounded more like someone’s grandfather, not the love of her life. What about sexual compatibility? What about a sense of humor? What about the ability to train a horse, or fix a fence, or rope a calf? What about a man who has your back and can take down with a single punch any guy who doesn’t treat her right? Those were important traits in a boyfriend. Not this other drivel.

That was it. Shooter had to do something or Ellen was going to end up with one of two things—a man who lied and pretended to be all these things she said she wanted, or worse, a man who actually was all those things and would bore her to tears. She could end up with a professor. Or a, hell he didn’t know, a missionary or something. He physically shook himself as just the word missionary conjured up sexual images he didn’t need in his head.

He navigated back to his own profile page and stared at it for a moment. Lying would be wrong. Putting down for his description all the traits that matched what Ellen thought she wanted would amount to lying. Besides, she didn’t really want a man like that. He knew her better. She needed someone who shared her interests. Who could make her laugh until she cried. Someone who could cheer her on in a barrel race one night and cook her a kick ass pot of spicy hot chili the next. A man who could fix her broken down car then take her home and make her forget everything with a mind-blowing romp in his bed.

That’s exactly what he’d write. All of that—well maybe he’d tone down the sex part a bit, but otherwise, this was what Ellen needed in a man. What surprised him even more was that this description fit him to the letter. Why hadn’t he seen that before? Besides the teasing and bickering, he and Ellen really were perfect for each other. They both loved rodeo. They both—well at least he did and he was pretty sure she did too—loved sex. They both loved—though sometimes more than others—Wes. Honestly. He couldn’t write a better match for Ellen than himself.

Shooter fleshed out his profile with the details that described him until it was complete, with the exception of a photo and his professional rodeo cowboy status. Then he spent a good hour crafting a private message to Ellen.

Finally, he was happy with the wording. He sent it with slightly trembling fingers that he tried to ignore, and then sat back in the chair with a loud release of the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. If nothing else, he’d teach her she really didn’t want the kind of man she thought she did. And hopefully he’d keep her away from any weirdo guys who could be lurking on this stupid site—for her own safety, of course.

And what if by some miracle Ellen really liked this fake “Buddy” identity he’d created and Shooter had to eventually admit to her the online profile was his? What if she hated him for setting it, and her, up?

That wouldn’t matter so much, he supposed. There were days she acted as if she hated him now. A worse situation, but far more unlikely, would be if Shooter and Ellen ever dated and it ended badly. Would it wreck his and Wes’s friendship? Could he ever just hang out with them both like before? Then again, maybe she’d just get over this new obsession with online dating and it would all be back to normal without her ever knowing he was Buddy.

Those were a lot of “what ifs” to mull over. Too many. Shooter decided he’d cross those bridges when and if he came to them. He closed the computer and turned toward the bedroom, intent on waking extra early in the morning so he could check his account for her response.

Chapter Three

Ellen woke after sleeping like the dead and stumbled to the kitchen. Of course the coffee in the pot was old as well as cold. That was the only problem with sleeping late when Wes woke early. He made the coffee, but it was undrinkable by the time she woke. She debated for a second on whether to microwave the remnants in the pot or brew a fresh batch. Finally, laziness won and she poured the leftover liquid into a mug and set the microwave for two minutes.

While she waited, she wandered over to the computer and booted it up. Might as well check her dating profile for new messages, even though so far it had been quite a mixed bag of responses. At first she’d been excited to have anyone at all view her profile and send her a message. It was like a boost to her ego for each and every page view and a double boost for every private message. Then she realized something—some men just wrote to every girl on here. Other men made her kind of suspicious. They were just too perfect. There were even a few she strongly suspected were more than just exaggerating about themselves, they were outright lying.