Chapter 9

nine

. . .

Walker

I t was a good thing River Adams was my date tonight, because the way she looked in those tight jeans had every cowboy in the bar craning his neck to get a glance at my girl. I could tell she put effort into what she wore, like me. Especially since I saw the bag she arrived with and knew there was no way she hid those boots inside.

"Did you go shopping just for me, darlin'?" I asked, my lips at her ear as I helped her into her chair at the small table we'd chosen.

"For you? No," she smirked. "But you said it was a date, and unless you wanted me to show up in my bathing suit or my PJs, I had to pick some things up."

"Any lacy things on that list?"

"Nothing you'll get to see."

I pouted. "Boo, you're no fun."

"Actually, I'm lots of fun. And you think so too, or you wouldn't have run around with me for all those years." She poked me in my chest, and my dick twitched like she'd reached down and given him a tug.

Fuck.

If it was that easy to get me going around her, we'd end up screwing in the bathroom or the back of my truck before the night was over. Cross would be pissed. I grinned. Sounded like my kind of night.

"So are we drinking or dancing first?"

"What would you say to a shot first?"

She laughed. "Shots? You do realize you're driving, right?"

"I've got someone I can call if things get really wild."

"Wild?" She raised a brow. "Walker Cross, just what do you think is happening tonight?"

"Depends on you. Maybe we'll take the jet to Vegas and come back hitched. What do you say? Wanna be Mrs. Cross?"

Her eyes grew comically wide. "Uh, no thanks. Shotgun weddings aren't really my thing."

"Technically, it's an elopement."

She wrinkled her nose and shook her head. "Either way, hard pass. But as for the shot, it sounds like I'm going to need it."

"What's your poison?"

"Tequila." She started to say something else, but I was already flagging a server down.

"Two... make that four shots of Patrón. Silver, if you have it."

"Limes?" the guy asked, barely sparing me a glance.

"Please."

He gave us a nod. "Anything else? If you're gonna order from the kitchen, I'd do it before the band starts. It's about to be a madhouse in here."

"Oh! Who's playing?" River asked.

"Lorde & Wilde. It was a real get for us. These guys are booking out nine months in advance. Tickets sold out for this show in three minutes flat."

River gave me a look, as if asking me how I scored tickets. I shook my head because, truthfully, I hadn't. My name got me in. Just like it did everywhere else. You didn't turn away a Cross unless you wanted to deal with the fallout.

No one wanted to deal with the fallout. Trust me.

"I'm not hungry," River said with a slight smile.

"You?"

I shook my head, knowing they'd reopen the kitchen if I asked. "Just the drinks for now."

"Be right back," he called, already heading toward the bar.

"So how long have you been planning this?" River asked, narrowing her eyes at me.

"What?"

"This date. It just so happens to fall on the night of a concert. You managed to reserve us a table. Don't think I didn't see the sign when we walked in. Walker Cross, are you trying to seduce me?" She waggled her brows, and I hated thinking she still saw me as the gawky teenager I'd been before she left me.

"That depends. Is it working?"

"Maybe."

"Then maybe."

She laughed. "You're incorrigible."

"Always have been. Always will be."

The waiter arrived with our shots and placed two in front of each of us, along with a small bowl of cut limes. "Anything else, Mr. Cross?"

"Mr. Cross is my grumpy asshole of a brother. Call me Walker." I pulled out my wallet and shook his hand, slipping him a twenty.

The guy gave me a wide grin and took off to a table filled with twenty-somethings looking to score. They were all tits and enormous fake lashes, with so much contour Morticia Addams would be jealous. I silently wished him well, knowing the type and the hangover that accompanied them. No, thank you.

"I'm shocked the famous Mr. Cross didn't go with a fancier label."

"Don't you start. Unless you want me to bend you over my knee and teach you a lesson."

Her eyes darkened, and a flicker of something—was that lust?—flashed in their green depths.

"Besides," I said, speaking over the awkward pause, "everyone knows you don't shoot the good stuff. It's for sipping."

"Oh, everyone, huh?"

"Yes. Any cowboy worth his salt knows what you shoot and what you savor."

Her cheeks went pink, and damn if I didn't have to adjust myself. I hadn't even meant for that to sound dirty, but fuck if my mind wasn't in the gutter now. For the second time in as many minutes, I had to refocus on what we'd been talking about.

Tequila shots. Right.

"You know how to do this, don't you?"

Her lips tipped up in a smug little smile. "Salt, shot, lime."

I hadn't quite known what to expect when I came up with this harebrained scheme. I just knew she was the prettiest fucking woman I'd ever seen, and I'd be damned if I didn't shoot my shot. I wasn't about to make the same mistake twice. Not when fate had seen fit to bring her back to me.

The only Cross who'd have her on his arm was me.

Taking her hand, I brought it to my lip and sucked on the soft spot between her thumb and index finger. Her hitched gasp had me shifting in my seat as I released her and dashed some salt on the wet surface.

"Suck it, darlin'."

Her lips parted, and I swear she was about to ask me what I wanted her to suck.

My dick volunteered. He volunteered so damn fast I could feel the imprint of my zipper down my shaft. I watched with way more interest than I should have as she brought her hand to her mouth and sucked the tender skin. Then, with a spark in her eyes, she tossed back the shot and chased it with the lime.

I itched to take it from her with my teeth, but I held back. She had to make the move this time. She was here under duress, uncomfortable and probably as fucking frustrated as we were.

"You're up," she said with a big smile.

I took her hand in mine again, rewetting and salting the same spot, wanting to get her used to the idea of my mouth being in the same place as hers. Then I tossed back my shot and bit into a lime.

I grinned at her, still holding the green fruit between my teeth. She laughed and shook her head. "You're the most charming cowboy I've ever met, Walker. You know that?"

"Of course I am. And you're the sweetest ladybug I've ever known."

Her cheeks went crimson. "Stop flirting with me."

"Why? This is a date, isn't it?"

She must have seen that as a challenge because she sat up a little straighter and adjusted the bottom of her silk shirt. It was the same color as her eyes and had a big bow where it tied behind her neck. She looked like a fucking present. All I wanted to do was lean over and peel it off her with my teeth. I couldn't even blame the tequila for that one. I'd had the thought as soon as I'd seen her. She was the prettiest thing I'd ever laid eyes on.

"It is. You're right. Okay, flirt away. Give me all you've got, cowboy. Show me what it would be like to be your girl."

Game. Fucking. On.

"Good to know I have the green light. You're up."

This time she didn't wait for me to wet her hand. She leaned in close, and I caught a whiff of her perfume. It was fruity and floral and all her. Before I could do more than acknowledge the thought, her tongue was running up the side of my neck.

Fucking hell, I almost came in my Wranglers.

"Give a guy some warning, darlin'. Not that I'm complaining."

She giggled. "It's a date, isn't it?"

"Damn straight. And in case you're wondering, I intend to kiss you at the end of it."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

"I intend to let you."

The trickle of salt on my skin had my breath catching. Not because I didn't like it, but because that meant her tongue would follow. I wanted it so bad.

"Go on. Don't leave me like this." Was I fucking begging? Yeah. Yeah, I sure as hell was.

She leaned in a second time, using her tongue to lick up the path of salt. It took everything in me not to wrap my fingers in her hair and slam my lips down on hers. But she was already pulling back, picking up her second shot, downing it, and then claiming mine.

"Hey," I protested, but it was halfhearted at best. Especially when she tossed me a wicked smirk.

With nothing left to do, I claimed the last lime in the bowl and put it between my lips.

Come and get me, darlin'.

It was almost like we were in slow motion as she leaned in and took the lime from me with her teeth. She bit down and sucked the tart juice, then discarded the piece of fruit. When she leaned close once more, her eyes were filled with hunger. I gave in and took her hair exactly as I'd envisioned, tugging hard enough her lips were perfectly positioned for me to kiss.

"Fuck, ladybug," I breathed.

Our mouths collided, and my God, why hadn't we done this before? She tasted like tequila and limes, but also like my personal fantasies come to life.

"Do we have to stay for the concert?" I whispered against her mouth.

She giggled and linked her fingers behind my head before leaning in for another kiss.

I knew it would be good, but not even my wildest dreams compared to reality. River Adams was my perfect woman. She always had been.

Just as I was about to deepen the kiss, a voice came over the loudspeaker and sent us jumping apart like two teenagers caught neckin' under the bleachers.

"We're thrilled to welcome to the stage, for the very first time here at The Hitchin' Post, Lorde and Wilde. Put your hands together, y'all!"

I didn't let go of her, but we both faced the stage. I might've been a little more reluctant than she was to watch the show now.

"Oh my God, that's Jameson Lorde!"

I registered the words, but my eyes snagged on a familiar face in the corner.

Bishop? It wasn't like our ranch hands didn't get nights off, but what were the odds he'd end up at the same bar as us? What the hell was he doing here, and why was he scowling at me?

River excitedly smacked my arm. "Did you hear me? That's Jameson Lorde! God, I love him. His accent is so sexy."

Jealousy sparked inside me over this Jameson guy, but when he and Killian Wilde took the stage, it was clear as the day was long those two only had eyes for each other.

"Thanks for being here tonight. I'm Killian Wilde, and that tall drink of water is Jameson Lorde, and this is ‘London Days, Montana Nights'."

"How could you not tell me we were seeing them? Oh my God, can we meet them after?" She was bouncing in her seat, her grin a mile wide, and suddenly I wasn't jealous at all. I was damn proud of myself for giving her what she wanted without even realizing it.

My life had been a series of dark, reckless acts for longer than I cared to remember. Being with her tonight was like standing in the sunshine for the first time. I hadn't much cared about the family business one way or the other, but knowing that it could taint her, that it would if she stayed here for the full year, had something a lot like guilt twisting me up inside.

She deserved a life in the sunshine, not in the shadows. But that was all I'd be able to give her.

It didn't take long before the audience turned from spectators to dancers, the floor filling with couples, especially during the duo's most romantic ballads. I finally got up the nerve to ask my girl to dance, like a fucking gentleman, and soon she was swaying in my arms. Bishop's attention burned as I pushed her around the dance floor, but I didn't give a shit. She wasn't here with him.

"Did you know your daddy had two sets of books?" she blurted, her words a hair slurred and the accent she'd tried to bury sneaking into her voice.

I stiffened, wondering where the hell that had come from and how she'd found out. "Come again?"

Before she could answer, someone slammed into us, and white-hot pain licked up my side.

I shook it off, offering River a confident grin as I righted myself. But before long, my vision swam, and everything tilted as that initial burn gave way to a deep ache. I staggered into the couple behind us, apologizing weakly as I found my footing and braced myself against a high table. Fuck, something was wrong. My fingers pressed against the source of my pain just as River's gasp caught my ears.

"Walker! Jesus, you're bleeding."