CHAPTER 32 #2
Despite the sadness in my chest, my eyes light up at Walker’s words and I grin. “Who knew you had friends.”
“Oh, I like her,” the older of the two men says. He’s got dark hair and a face covered in scruff, but his bourbon-colored eyes are warm as a melted caramel cupcake.
The other man, who’s clean-shaven and wearing a backward Boston Rev’s baseball cap, glances down at our hands and I realize they’re still joined.
Feeling slightly foolish, I flex my fingers, figuring Walker didn’t mean to hold my hand.
I was probably clinging to him because I was having a moment of sadness.
But as I pull away, Walker only strengthens his grip and squeezes.
With a flash of warmth in his eyes, he smiles down at me. “I like her, too.”
“So you going to tell us her name or—?” Bourbon eyes teases.
“You’re grown men, you can say hello.” Walker gives it right back.
“I’m Tally.” I stick out my hand.
When the older man gives me a firm shake, my other hand falls from Walker’s, so he wraps his arm around my back and I feel his warm palm settle into the back pocket of my jeans.
I know both of them tell me their names, but I don’t hear a word.
I’m too stuck on the way Walker’s hand fits in mine.
How he so easily claimed me in front of his friends.
My stomach does that swooping thing, and when I notice all three of them have gone silent, I realize I must have missed a question.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t get much sleep last night. Can you say that again?”
The younger one’s eyes trail over to Walker, and I know that if I look at him I’ll turn as red as a rose because yeah, he was with me, not sleeping.
“Jackson asked what you do,” Walker mumbles low against my ear.
If I turned right now, our lips would touch.
My body heats, and one quick look around makes it evident I’m not the only person realizing how close we are.
His friends watch us, and when I spot my sister and Rosie standing just ten feet away, I realize they aren’t attending to the customers in line waiting for pastries.
Instead, they’re staring straight at me.
Gawking, really. Penny’s mouth is popped so wide flies will probably take up residence. Rosie, of course, is wearing a smirk.
And then there’s my mother. A daffodil in hand, a secret smile on her face. Shit. She’s happy about this. As if there really is a this to be happy about.
I stumble back a little, getting some breathing room, because we can’t do this.
Even if I was sticking around past spring—which I’m not—it was just sex.
I can’t have my mother believing it’s anything more.
Can’t get her hopes up. Can’t get my hopes up, my sneaky mind reminds me, because I’m leaving.
I need to get out of here. But I also need to answer this question.
“I’m a seasonal worker,” I say, letting out a long breath.
“She’s a baker,” Walker says with pride in his tone.
I shake my head, embarrassed. “Not professionally.”
Walker cuts me with his eyes. “She is. She’s just not good at taking compliments unless I’m telling her how pretty she is.”
My cheeks flush. God, he knows me so well. He could say a million things about me, and none of them would make me hot in the way him calling me a baker does. Because he sees me.
I don’t think anyone has ever seen me quite like Walker does.
“She baked all the pastries over there. Go try one. You’ll be begging her to make more.”
“Speaking of—” I take that opportunity to escape because if he keeps sweet-talking me like this, I’m liable to drop to my knees right here. Or worse, kiss him.
Flustered, I point toward the house. “I have to grab more since we’re running low.”
“It was nice meeting you, Tally,” Jackson says, and I’m glad at least I know one of their names.
“You both as well.”
Without looking at Walker, I rush away. Though I don’t even make it to the kitchen before I hear the door slam shut and his heavy footsteps follow me inside.
Trying to appear preoccupied, I do what I came in here to do—not hide from him and all these big, oversized feelings that are swirling in my chest but scrounge up extra pastries to sell.
With every step Walker takes in my direction, my stomach swoops wildly, until I’m a bubbling-over pot of tension.
“Wildflower?”
When I don’t reply, his arms land on either side of the counter, surrounding me until he presses his chest against my back and his mouth goes to my ear. “Feel my heart, Tal?”
I do. It’s beating hard right against my spine. I nod but don’t say nothing.
Walker rolls his nose into my hair and against my neck, and he inhales. “There’s no need to run from me. I feel it, too,” he murmurs.
“You can’t—” I start to say but then I stop and let out a long breath. “We shouldn’t—”
Walker spins me to face him. “I can, and we should.”
“Only a few days ago you were telling me we couldn’t.”
Walker’s lips lift, sliding into place, and that smirk appears. “And then I tasted you.”
Wouldn’t it be amazing if life really was that simple? If we could all just go after what we wanted and enjoy it? No worries about the future. No concerns about what others have to say. No guilt for the price we’ll have to pay.
“I want it to be just for us,” I whisper.
The smirk morphs into a real smile, and his eyes lighten. “We can do that.”
I climb my fingers slowly up his hard chest and bite my lip.
“So no winking at me in public.” His brows dip.
“No claiming me in front of your friends.” He rolls his eyes.
“And no getting attached.” His jaw clenches.
Palm flat against his heart, I focus on the rapid beat that matches mine.
“The sneaking around will be sexy. We’ll have to be careful … and creative.”
Walker’s fingers slide into the pockets of my jeans, and his brow quirks. “Creative?”
I kiss the edge of his jaw. “So we don’t get caught. Because technically you’re my boss.”
He squeezes me tight, tugging me closer and tilting his chin down so his lips are against mine. “Does that mean you’ll actually listen to me?”
I snort, a happy giddiness warming me. I’m just about to suck his bottom lip between mine when I hear my mother’s voice. “Tally!”
Walker and I both push apart, and I turn back to busying myself with arranging muffins on a platter. “I’m coming!”
“You’re not right now, but you will be tonight,” Walker husks as I walk past him.
He’s adjusting himself, and I bite my tongue to keep from whimpering at the sight of how hard I’ve made him.
“You can hide from me in public, Tally, but in this house, when everyone is gone”—he leans into my space before I can disappear—“you’re mine. ”
But because I can’t ever let him have the last word, I sway my hips, knowing he’s still watching. “Who says we have to wait until tonight?” I wink at him over my shoulder. “Be more creative, Cowboy.”