Walker swings his leg over the saddle in one fluid motion and dismounts, boots hitting the ground with a soft thud, all easy masculine grace. He pats his horse's neck, murmuring something I can't hear, before he turns and walks toward me.
He tips up the brim of his cowboy hat, and suddenly I'm looking straight into those eyes. Green like malachite, stone-hard but with unexpected depth.
“Sutton’s?” he asks.
I’m so busy admiring his stupidly beautiful eyes that I wonder if I missed a beat in this conversation. “Beg your pardon?”
“The bar. Sutton’s, right?”
“That’s right. It’s the only game in town. Unless you count drinking out of brown bags outside the liquor store.”
“Doesn’t seem like your speed.”
“Wasn't it yours? When Daryl stopped by the other day, he told me more legends of your misspent youth.” I tick items off on my fingers. “Shooting beer cans off fence posts before you were old enough to drive, let alone drink. Drag racing down Route 12. Riding broncs bareback on a dare.”
He exhales heavily. “Leave it to my father to air all my dirty laundry. I was a dumb kid.”
“And now you're such a wise old man?”
“Wise enough to warn you to be careful tonight.” That familiar glower returns, settling between his brows. “Sutton's gets rough this time of year. Hunting season brings in all kinds.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ve seen plenty of bar fights before. Don’t worry, I’ll pack my smelling salts in case my ladylike sensibilities get overwhelmed.”
“I'm not talking about fights.” His jaw tightens. “I mean don't let anyone buy you a drink.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Come again?”
“I mean...” He looks away, and there's color rising in his cheeks. “Don't let anyone hand you anything that didn't come sealed. Watch the bartender open it yourself.”
“Walker. I have actually been to a bar before.”
“I’m just saying.” He rubs a hand over his stubbled jaw. “Text me when you’re leaving. Let me know you’re okay. Or I’ll worry.”
I feel myself soften. “Okay.”
“And let me know if you need a ride back, all right? I’ll be home.””
“You don't have to wait up.”
“I know.”
“You're not… I mean, tonight isn't…” I’m tripping all over my words now, trying to broach the subject. “Your time is your own tonight. You don't have to wait around at home, just for me.”
He tilts his head. “Where else would I be?”
“I don't know. Out. With someone.”
He looks at me for a long moment. Understanding exactly what information I’m fishing for here, what I’m asking. The silent question:is there anotherwoman?
“There's no one else, Sadie.”
No oneelse. I focus on that “else” a lot more than I ought to.
Imagining he’s saying,no one else but you, Sadie.
Yep, that “else” is doing some heavy lifting in my imagination.
I shouldn’t be smiling at him the way I am right now. I can’t see my own face but I suspect I look way too happy at that reveal.
