Because what’s on his face isn’t his usual stern scowl. It's a look that’s surprised. Almost warm.
My heart does a traitorous little flip I'd rather it didn't.
“Jonah,” he says, “Grandpa’s here. He’s taking you to camp this morning while Sadie and I go over some stuff.”
“Grandpa’s here?” Jonah’s eyes light up as he runs back downstairs, already twenty feet ahead os us.
As Walker and I follow, heading to the staircase, he gestures for me to go in front of him. I do, acutely conscious of him at my back as I start down the stairs.
My foot slips on the second step.
It happens fast. The lurch of weightlessness, the grab for a railing that isn't close enough.
And then Walker’s arm is around my waist, pulling me back.
Somehow in the scramble he turns me, and I end up facing him instead. Both of my hands pressed flat against his chest. His arms locked around my waist, holding me against him on the narrow stair.
He's solid and warm and close, and I can feel his heartbeat under my palm, steady in a way mine definitely is not.
I have nowhere to look but at him. The sharp line of his stubbled jaw. His lips, the ones I’ve rarely seen away from a microphone, pressed together with displeasure. Those deep green eyes, like the darkest forest.
I blink up at him. “Thanks.”
His arm is wrapped around me, hand settled at my waist. “You all right?”
I nod. “Fine.”
He looks me up and down critically, like he’s checking for damage. “You sure you've got your footing?”
It's a reasonable question. It shouldn't feel like a challenge. But it does. Maybe because I’m pressed up against a man I'm pretty sure doesn't even like me, but feels obligated to protect me anyway.
“I do now,” I say.
“Lucky I’m here to rescue you from yourself. Again.”
There he is. The dick version of Walker Rhodes I met yesterday.
“For the record,” I retort, “I was about to fall very gracefully.”
“Yeah. Gracefully crumpled at the bottom of the stairs. Maybe I ought to carry you down. Just in case.”
Is he joking? I can’t tell. He’s not smiling, not even a little.
“I’ve been walking my whole life,” I say.
“And yet.” He glances meaningfully at the stair where I slipped.
His arms are still around me. Neither of us has moved.
Those green eyes drop to my lips for just a moment, and my breath catches.
His jaw clenches. Then he takes my hand, turning me gently but firmly to face downstairs. He wraps my fingers around the railing before he steps back. He puts exactly one stair's worth of distance between us, and somehow it feels like a mile.
I stare at the railing under my hand, at his fingers that are no longer covering mine.
I tell myself I imagined the way he looked at my lips. Like he was wondering what they’d feel like on his.
Then again, that might have just been me.
