When Roses Collide

Chapter Three

Not that she was going to give an argument. Instead of answering his questions, she stood ramrod straight, one foot cocked out and toe tapping slightly on the roof in irritation while her little fists balled up at her sides. Those beautiful lips puckered into a very disapproving frown and for a moment Travis regretted his sharp tone.

She reached into her back pocket again, looked briefly at the small black box, pointed it towards the truck and Trace Adkins resumed his country crooning at earsplitting levels as she turned her back on both cowboys and continued her way across the roof. Only this time, instead of the catchy little number from earlier, it was Whoop A Man's Ass. Cute darling, real cute, Travis thought. Brady's chuckling was like adding gasoline to the fire already burning in his belly. And to think, he momentarily felt bad for raising his voice!

With a blazing look to his soon to be unemployed ranch hand, Travis jumped off Decker. Tossing the reins at his sniggering side kick, he stomped a few feet back so he had her in full view.

"Hey!! Hey you!! I was talking to you!" he shouted to her dazzling, yet still retreating backside. He glared at the pick-up still pounding out a deafening beat. There was no way she was going to hear him over that racket. Placing both pinkies at the edges of his mouth, he gave a loud blast of a whistle. The kind which pierced the eardrums and left them ringing for a few minutes afterward.

That got her attention. She spun around in a huff and placed her hands on her curvaceous hips. It was then Travis got a good look at her full gorgeous breasts spilling out of a low cut black tank with Eye Candy written across the top in neon pink. Every plastic surgeon's wet dream come true, stood in all their natural glory before him. Labeling them eye candy was an understatement.

He imagined tasting those lovely globes and checking out their sweetness. He could almost feel them overflowing his hands if he ever got the chance to round second base. He grimaced at his own thoughts. Oh well, if you're going to act like a teenager, you might as well think like one.

She marched across the roof line, down the pitch and stomped up to the edge of the low hung roof of the porch where she paused to once again silence Trace Adkins. There she knelt down until her sweet ass cheeks rested on the heels of her hiking boots. Lucky bastards, thought Travis, unbelievably jealous over a pair of footwear.

Harley stared down at the irritating, yet, extremely handsome cowboy. Woo-boy, he was like a chapter right out of pure sexiness, despite his toddler tantrum he was currently having in her front yard. The go to hell speech which was hanging off the tip of her tongue, got swallowed back as she gulped. He was a tall son of a gun.

She was guessing six foot three at least and built like a Greek statue. Harley bit down on her lip to keep from sighing in pleasure as her eye's absorbed the extensive width of his shoulders. Beneath that denim shirt straining across his massive shoulders, lurked a colossal wall of muscles and her finger tips itched to rake her nails across it. Making a self-conscious effort, she curled her fingers into the palm of her hand until the bite of her nails sent a zing of pain.

She never was one to miss the opportunity to watch a nice pair of Wranglers walk by, but her knee jerk reaction to this particular cowboy made her slightly alarmed. Just the sight of him, had her heart doing a happy little skip in her chest and a strange tingle to start to come to life between her legs. The fact he stood there ogling her for the entire world to see, wasn't helping her hormones either. Pissed as he was, and he most definitely was, he still checked her out. Harley cocked her head to one side as she continued her slow perusal of her trespasser. After all, one good turn deserved another.

Starting with his large dust covered boots; Harley let her eyes do a little wandering of her own. Thick banded muscles where in-cased in tight worn out jeans like a lovers caress. They hugged all the right curves and crannies, defining each muscle and valley to her greedy gaze and what they did for his backside, made her struggle for air. She would give anything to be able to bounce a couple of quarters off his tight ass and the way they molded the package in front had her panting for a peek. For crying out loud, she was like a bitch in heat, but, oh, how yummy he was. She could eat him up with a spoon. Heck, skip the spoon. This called for a little nip and tongue action. No utensils necessary.