Not Your Average Cowboy. Christine Wenger
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Название: Not Your Average Cowboy
Автор: Christine Wenger
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
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As if by magic, the door opened and Buck materialized. “G’morning.” He rubbed his closed eyes with the tips of his fingers. “I checked on Cait. She’s still sleeping.”
He ran his hands over his chest as if he was rubbing himself awake, and Merry couldn’t turn her eyes away. He wore only jeans, but a white, long-sleeved shirt hung around his neck, the same shirt he’d been wearing last night. He clearly wasn’t a morning person in the least, but he looked very male, from the top of his disheveled black hair to the bottom of his bare feet.
He yawned, then sniffed the air, his eyes still at half mast. “Coffee?”
“It’s not quite ready yet,” Merry answered. “Can I make you breakfast?”
The second his eyes focused on her, he froze and blurted, “I thought you were Karen.”
“Hospital.”
“Right.”
“How about breakfast?”
“Uh, no. I have to take care of the horses.” He crossed the room, bent over to grab his boots, then he hurried out the door.
Looking out the window, she saw Buck hopping as he pulled on his boots. He shrugged into his shirt and continued walking as he buttoned it. He let out a low whistle, and several horses that were in the corral moved toward the fence and hung their heads over it. Laughing, he petted their noses.
“I overslept, ladies and gents, but I’ll feed you now,” she heard him say.
The coffeemaker gave a final chug, and she decided to deliver Buck’s coffee to him at the barn and watch him feed the horses. Since she didn’t know how he took his coffee, she found a silver tray, draped a yellow-checked napkin over it, and set a creamer and sugar bowl on it along with a spoon and two mugs of coffee, one for him and one for her.
Tentatively, she walked out to the corral, ever alert for anything that crawled or slithered. She could feel every pebble under her feet, and knew for a fact that she should have packed some sturdy shoes rather than strappy Italian sandals.
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