Catch Me a Cowboy Read Free

and with her heart pounding in her chest, all she could do was listen and wait.
    The chainsaw sputtered to a halt. She didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Maybe the psycho was lulling her into a false sense of security—hoping she’d open the door to peek out so he could decapitate her in one slice. The image of splattered blood and her rollinghead was fresh in her mind when someone grabbed her from behind.
    Before she could do more than squeak in terror, she was being pulled down. But it wasn’t the cold blade of a chainsaw that pressed her into the sagging mattress, but rather a solid chest of warm hard muscles. Shirlene barely had time to suck in a startled breath before a pair of firm lips settled over hers in a deep, tongue-dipping kiss that curled her toes into the sheets and sizzled all thoughts of ghosts and psycho killers right out of her head. Of course, her senses came back quickly enough when the man nibbled his way over to her ear and whispered in a whiskey-soaked voice.
    “Now I’m shore not the type of man to look a gift horse in the mouth.” A hot palm settled over her breast, and Shirlene sucked in her breath. “Especially a gift that turned out to be more than I expected. But I’m afraid I’m a little too tuckered out from my trip to give you the kind of ride you deserve, Marcy. So if you don’t mind showin’ yourself out….”
    “Marcy?” Shirlene huffed. Suddenly indignation took the place of fear. How could anyone in their right mind confuse her for Marcy Henderson? Marcy had to weigh a good twenty pounds more than Shirlene, with breasts that she was still making payments on.
    The lips stilled against her neck, and he pulled back and brushed the hair out of her face. As he stared down at her, his brown eyes appeared to spark with something that actually resembled thought. But it must’ve been a trick of the early morning light that filtered in through the sheet over the window. Because when she looked again, all she saw was a whole lot of nothing.
    Bubba.

Chapter Two
     
    I F SOMEONE HAD TOLD Shirlene that one day she would find herself in bed with Bubba Wilkes, the biggest redneck to ever come out of east Texas, she would’ve laughed them clean out of town. But she wasn’t laughing now, especially when the country hick dipped his lips for another taste. Without fear muddling her mind, his skillet-fried kisses turned into lukewarm milk toast. When he finally came up for air, it took a real effort not to wipe off her mouth.
    An idiotic smile split his face. “If I had known you had such a hankerin’ for me, Ms. Dalton, I’da been back much sooner.”
    “I think there’s been a mistake, honey,” she stated with as much civility as she could muster.
    “Not in my book, Honey Buns.” His gaze drifted down to her breasts, nuzzled against his chest. “And all I’ll need is a couple minutes to prove it.”
    “I hate to decline such a fine offer,” she said between gritted teeth, “but the only reason I’m here is because I was being chased by a psychotic killer.”
    His forehead crinkled before a light went on. As usual it was the wrong light.
    “Now there’s no need to come up with whoppers like that one, Ms. Dalton. If you wanted a tour of Wilkesville, all you needed to do is ask.”
    Shirlene rolled her eyes. Good Lord, it had been so long since his last visit, she’d forgotten what an arrogant hillbilly the man was. A hillbilly who had wiggled his way into the hearts of every man, woman, and child in Bramble. Which was the only reason Shirlene didn’t knee him in the family nuggets and be done with it—that and the fact that there was a chainsaw-wielding killer on the loose.
    She flashed him a dimpled smile. “Yes, well, I’ll have to take that tour another time. Right now, I need you to—”
    “You sure about that?” he cut her off. “Because some offers only come once in a lifetime.”
    “I guess that’s a chance I’ll have to take.” She