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 toogood 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 stilltechnicallya 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 anddoes 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 throughthisdoor.
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.”
