Sierra sat on the edge of her bed, brushing her long, orange-red, waist-length hair. The plain white T-shirt she wore was intentionally too big so it would cover her tiny blue panties. Long, slender legs were folded neatly beneath her slim body and gray-green eyes were half shut in relaxation. Freckles were splashed across the bridge of her small nose and full, rosy lips were soft and relaxed. At least, they were until someone knocked rather violently on her door.
Sighing gustily, Sierra jumped up and pulled on a pair of shorts. Walking over to the front door of her apartment, she yanked it open to find none other than Chester Wilson, jackass extraordinaire.
Standing at 6'5", he was extremely well built with shaggy blonde hair, snapping green eyes, and the most sarcastic mouth Sierra had ever seen on someone so very serious. Being from Texas, he had a habit of dressing like the cowboy he was back home in blue jeans, white tank tops, flannel shirts, and his black cowboy boots and hat with a plain silver buckle on the front. He also had a belt buckle, a Texas Longhorns logo that virtually dragged everyone's eyes to his crotch and his admittedly sizable, denim wrapped package. In other words, he was gorgeous to the point where most women ignored his nasty personality in favor of getting in bed with him. While it took most women a rough tumble or twelve in bed with the man to realize his jackassery, Sierra had hated him on sight.
At the moment, he leaned against the doorway, blocking the way out with his arms, though his legs were crossed at the ankle in cowboy fashion. His blue flannel shirt was rolled up to his elbows, exposing strong forearms with a dusting of pale blonde hair on the backs. He was scowling at her.
Sierra scowled right back. "What the hell are you doing here, Chester?" She could practically hear him grinding his teeth, though he didn't answer. "If you're not going to deign me with a reply, then kindly remove yourself from my doorway." She went to swing the door shut, but one strong hand caught the edge of the wooden plank and shoved it back open, knocking Sierra back a step. "Chester, what the hell?!"
"Why don't you like me?" The question was abrupt and took Sierra completely by surprise.
"What?"
"Most women love me. They roll over to, sit up, and beg to be with me," Chester snapped. "Except you. You're like the lone coyote in the dog pack. Why?"
"Maybe because you just compared women to dogs and me to a fucking coyote," Sierra snapped, growing angrier by the second.
"But see, here's the thing," Chester continued as though she hadn't spoken. "I can't stand you, either. You're loud, brash, cuss way too much, drink too much, and are rude to most everybody you meet."
"No, I'm rude to you," Sierra replied. "I'm polite to most everyone else. Now, go away."
Again, he ignored her. "I hate everything about you. You're too pale, you're freckled, you have red fucking hair, you're too skinny, and too tall." Sierra subsided to simply glaring at him, forcing back tears. She hated him, but it still hurt to hear him criticize the things she loved about herself. "Only things you got good going for you are your breasts, ass, and legs. Maybe if you were short, a little fatter, with blonde hair and blue eyes and no fucking freckles, I could understand it. But you ain't, so I can't! It don't make any damn sense!"
"What doesn't make any sense?" Sierra asked, voice low so he wouldn't hear it shake. He still heard and noticed the tears in her eyes.
"God fucking dammit!" He slammed his hands against the doorway. When a door down the hall opened to see what the commotion was about, he pushed Sierra back into her apartment and came inside, shutting the door behind him. Leaning back against the wood, the cowboy took the city girls face in his hands, wiping escaping tears away with his thumbs. "I hate everything about you, but I can't stand to see you cry. Even if you look beautiful with tears in your eyes.
"I hate your red hair almost as much as I want to see it spread across my pillows. I hate how pale your skin is almost as much as I want to see, kiss, and lick every inch of it. You make me laugh when you cuss someone out at the top of your lungs and watching you swig a beer makes me ache.
"I hate how tall you are, but I get the feeling that I might love the fact that I won't have to bend myself in half to do this." He pressed his mouth to hers in a hard, angry kiss. When he let go to look down at her, he added, "And I hate gray eyes, they look rained out. But seeing yours all glazed over like they are now is breathtaking."
"My eyes are gray-green," Sierra snapped, internally shaking off his kiss.
