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 Barbiedoll 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 tosmile. “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. Socute, 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.
