Texas Two-Step: Cowboy Shuffle by Cat Johnson Page A

why the hell had his own subconscious made him perform so badly? On top of that embarrassment, he’d come in his sleep like a damn pubescent boy. He’d thought wet dreams were well behind him. A man in his twenties who had fairly steady sex shouldn’t come in his shorts.
    Pride stinging with indignation he could only direct at himself, he swung his bare feet to the floor and padded to the bathroom. The clock showed it was just after midnight. Grimacing at the feel of them, he ditched the wet boxers into the laundry hamper and then leaned against the sink, staring at himself in the mirror. Under the glaring lights his suntanned face looked pale against his brown hair. Dark circles rimmed his hazel eyes as he squinted against the brightness in the room, telling him what he already felt from the bone-deep weariness—for the couple of hours he’d been in bed, he’d slept like crap.
    He’d never had problems sleeping before. Why was he having trouble now? Maybe the same reason he’d never had sex dreams about Ellen before, but he was sure as hell having them now—the residual stickiness beginning to dry uncomfortably in his groin was remaining proof of that. The answer was clear, but Shooter wasn’t sure he wanted to face it. He needed a girlfriend. Now that Wes was paired off with Maryann, Shooter was either left alone, or feeling like a third wheel alongside the happy couple.
    Sure there were still plenty of girls for Shooter to sink himself into when he wanted to. Buckle bunnies were always hanging around the rodeo looking for a cowboy to roll around with for a bit. He wasn’t at all opposed to a quick tumble with a pretty cowgirl in the back of his truck or anywhere else after a competition or a party, but it was the other times he really felt his single status. Like while watching a movie over at Wes’s apartment. Wes and Maryann cuddling on the couch. Shooter in the reclining chair, alone. Ellen seated across the room, usually at the desk on her computer. Or at meals when they’d get a table for three—Wes and Maryann on one side, Shooter opposite with an empty chair next to him.
    Of course, sometimes Ellen would be there too, since she and Maryann were best friends. Now that he thought about it, it really did make sense that Ellen would star in his dream given how much time they all spent together.
    If Wes hadn’t gone and fallen for Maryann, the three of them—Wes, Shooter and Maryann—could all still be happily sharing a bed when the itch struck them. It wouldn’t be weird for Shooter then, because he wouldn’t be tagging along with a happy couple that seemed to have conveniently forgotten he had been there with them their first night together, enjoying Maryann right alongside Wes. But three had quickly become two and Wes wasn’t so good at sharing his girl.
    Shooter reached past the shower curtain and flipped on the knob.
    Yup, this was all Wes’s fault. That thought did a lot to relieve his mind in the aftermath of the disturbing dream. He stepped under the spray of water with a much clearer head now he had someone to blame instead of himself.
    Another interesting idea struck him, making him even happier. Maybe he didn’t need an actual girlfriend, but rather just a steady lay. Someone he could fuck on a regular basis, and then could maybe share a meal with occasionally. Kind of like a friend with benefits. Yeah, that would work.
    It was a shame Ellen hated him so much. They spent so much time together already it would be pretty convenient to just add sex to the mix when they felt the need. He could almost feel her mouth still surrounding him. That had been one vivid dream. And just that—a dream, because it was no secret how Ellen felt about him.
    It was for the best anyway. If he ever hooked up with Ellen for a night, she’d freak the next time he brought home another girl. And then his friendship with Wes would be in jeopardy. Nope, Ellen was the kind of woman who dated guys seriously. She