Chapter 24
Whiskey Kiss
SADIE
All right, this evening isn’t exactly what I imagined it would be.
Cassidy had to bail on me last minute because someone’s midwife’s flight got canceled and now that someone is going into labor, and Cassidy’s just a resident but the closest doctor in a thirty mile radius and apparently that baby is coming now.
So now I’m here with Travis. Who brought a friend, a friend who promptly excused himself to the pool tables, which I have a feeling was not remotely accidental. Now Travis and I are at a table together. Just the two of us, after all.
So far Travis has talked about his truck four times and his ex-girlfriend three times, which is seven times more than he’s asked me any questions about myself.
I’m learning all kinds of things about Travis, that’s for sure. Like that he stayed with his ex too long because the sex was too good to give up. That he loves his Ram Power Wagon but paying the price at the tank is a real bitch, and he’s thinking of getting it lifted anyway, price be damned.
I’m learning that evenings like these and guys like this are exactly the reason I’ve stayed a virgin for as long as I have.
Although after everything Walker and I just did… well, I guess I’m still technically a virgin.
But my head is spinning.
The fact that Travis doesn’t seem that interested in me and instead is very into talking about himself makes me feel a little less guilty about showing up here with Walker Rhodes’s cum seeping out of me.
I sip my Jack and Coke politely while he talks, interjecting a nod or interested noise, though he doesn’t seem to need the encouragement. He likes the sound of his voice just fine without requiring my contribution.
My mind wanders.
I think of Walker. The insane shit he said to me that should have had me slapping him, walking out that door forever, and yet…
And yet I can’t stop thinking about it. Just remembering it is making my nipples hard. I must be so much more messed up than I ever knew. The way he came all over me and pushed it inside me, all his crazy possessive talk…
This summer is turning out to be quite the sexual awakening after all.
But I’m thinking about the other things he’s said to me this summer.
Teaching me about chords and melodies. Listening to his stories, a cowboy’s world through an artist’s eyes.
Long talks about books. Deep conversations at midnight in his pool.
That unexpected sense of humor that makes me burst into laughter.
That surprising warmth and tenderness, even as he says and does the filthiest things to me that I can’t seem to get enough of…
Is he still at home alone? Is he still standing in the kitchen looking way more miserable and lost and broken than any man should after doing what we did together?
I almost feel sorry for him.
But he could have stopped me from walking through that door, and he didn’t.
Except…
Except he’s walking through this door.
Here at Sutton’s. Right now.
I know before I look. I know from the way the room shifts slightly, the way a few heads turn near the door, the way Travis's eyes flick over my shoulder and his face does a quick, involuntary recalibration.
I turn around.
It’s Walker. Backwards baseball cap. Worn flannel shirt, sleeves pushed up over his corded forearms, scanning the bar until his eyes find mine.
He doesn't look caught. He doesn't look sorry. He looks, if anything, like a man on a mission.
What the hell is he doing?
He strolls over, dark green eyes locked on me the whole time. Arrogant and hot as hell in that backwards baseball cap, moving in slow. The way a wolf moves slow when he’s spotted his next meal.
“Hey darlin,’” he drawls, coming to a stop in front of me. “Fancy meeting you here.”
I glare daggers at him in response.
Then he pulls out the empty chair, turns it around, and sits on it backwards. Sets his forearms on the top of it. Looks between me and Travis like he's been here all along and we just didn't notice.
Travis straightens in his chair. The easy sprawl of five minutes ago is gone, replaced by a subtle, instinctive correctness, a man remembering his manners in front of his employer.
“Travis.” Walker nods across the table. Easy. Unbothered. “How you settling in at Wild Rose?”
“Good, sir.” Travis has dropped the dimpled grin entirely. “Real good. Great operation you've got out there.”
“Glad to hear it.” Walker flags down a server with two fingers. “Another round for the table.”
Then he tilts his head and looks at me, and only at me. Like Travis has already ceased to be part of this conversation.
“Sorry I'm late,” he says.
“You weren't invited,” I snap.
“Hm.” He picks up the bar menu on the table. “Good band tonight.”
Just then, a gorgeous blonde girl approaches our table. Travis’s eyes are glued to her but Walker hasn’t even looked up from the menu. She must be a tourist, since the locals know better than to bother Walker.
“Um, excuse me?” The girl says breathily. “Are you Walker Rhodes?”
As if she doesn’t know exactly who he is.
He’s still scanning the menu. “Yup.”
“Can I have a selfie?” She gives him a knowing smile, like she understands precisely how gorgeous she is and she’s waiting for him to give her his full attention and realize it too.
Walker sighs. Spares her a brief glance and then tosses the menu on the table before putting his arm across the back of my chair in a distinctly possessive gesture.
“I’m in the middle of something with my girl here, but maybe we’ll catch you on the way out.
” He lifts his chin like he’s dismissing her. “Have a nice evening, ma’am.”
I almost snort. He seriously “ma’am-ed” this living Barbie doll like she was a meddlesome old lady. It’s polite and rude in equal measure. A Walker Rhodes speciality, apparently.
She walks away, a little crestfallen but still obviously dazzled. Still hopeful she’s got a shot with him, too, judging by her seductive backwards glances. But he’s not looking anywhere near her. His eyes are on me.
I haven’t really seen Walker dealing with his own fame before, and he’s really good at it. Deftly putting up boundaries, insisting on normalcy for himself—
Wait a minute. My girl?
My eyes narrow. “What are you doing here, Walker?”
He has the audacity to smile. “Watching the game.”
“The game's on over by the bar,” I say, pointedly. “Better view from over there.”
His gaze is still completely on me.
“Nah,” he says. “Best view in the house is right here.”
There’s a few minutes of excruciatingly awkward small talk. Well, awkward for me and Travis, though seemingly not Walker, which is ironic, given he’s the reason for the awkwardness.
It’s a lot of Walker gazing at me with a little smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.
Barely glancing at Travis and speaking exclusively to me.
And then when the server brings me a gin and tonic by mistake, he steps in too.
Before Travis or I can say a word, Walker's already flagging her down and switching it out for my Jack and Coke, like it’s his job to take care of these things for me.
Then he leans in close to me, green eyes sparkling, and says, “I meant to tell you, baby, Jonah put that drawing you two were working on right above his bed. He’s damn proud of it.
So cute, watching the two of you work on art projects together.
I’ve got the sweetest lil’ family in all Montana, bar none. ”
This crafty motherfucker. Calling me baby. Implying we’re a family, like he and I are raising Jonah as our son together.
There’s territorial, and then there’s Walker Rhodes levels of unhinged-territorial.
Travis just blinks, confused. He’s just a boy, totally outmatched by the crazy-ass cowboy staking his claim on me right in front of him.
I glare at Walker. “Having fun?”
His hand lands lightly on my knee as he winks and gives my leg a brief squeeze. “Time of my life.”
As I get up to excuse myself to the restroom, I lean in close and whisper in his ear, enunciating every word, “You’re out of your mind.”
And then I silently curse him for smelling so good that I want to bury my face in the crook of his neck. I put as much distance between us, as fast as I can, so that I’m not tempted to do it.
The hallway back here is narrow and dim, sequestered from the noise of the main bar. The music reaches me muffled, more bass than melody.
I use the opportunity to clean myself up. Clean up the mess that Walker made of me.
Between my thighs, at least.
My head is still a mess.
I toss the ruined panties in the trash.
Then I stand at the sink and look at myself in the mirror and wonder how the hell I ended up here tonight, like this.
The reflection doesn't have much wisdom to offer. Just a clueless virgin staring back at me, naked under this dress I wore for the man who pushed it up around my hips and painted me with his cum and then let me walk away.
As I pull my hair away from where it’s sticking to my neck, I see the hickeys he left there.
I didn't notice until right now.
I don't cover them up.
I went out tonight to prove a point. To show myself I was moving on. Very convincing performance, right up until I found myself sitting across from Travis, thinking about a cowboy twenty minutes up the road.
And now the man I’m trying to move on from is sitting at my table ordering rounds like he belongs there. Acting completely out of pocket. Acting like my boyfriend.
I’m furious about it. Furious at the presumption, the meddling, the arrogance.
And also, damn it, thrilled.
Walker came for me.
He got in his truck and he chased me down and crashed what he thinks is my date without a hint of hesitation or shame.
I want to kill him for it and I want to kiss him for it.
I haven't decided yet which one is going to win.
After washing and drying my hands, I push the door open back out into the hallway.
Walker is standing right there.