Читать книгу Immortal Cowboy - Alexis Morgan - Страница 2

She made a grab for the wall as her knees gave way. Surely this was some kind of joke.

“Who are you?”

Her question was little more than a whisper, but the man heard it all right. There was no mistaking the temper in those ice-blue eyes. His outfit matched the one he’d worn in the picture he held clutched in his fist: scuffed boots, a faded shirt, dark trousers and a worn duster. It couldn’t really be him, but every cell in her body screamed that it was.

“Wyatt McCain?”

His name was the last thing she said as the floor rushed up to meet her.