Hard Loving Cowboy

by A. J. Pine

  Walker shook his head. “Dorothy texted while we were at the ER. She’s replacing the glasses at no charge. I think she’s worried you might take legal action or something since it happened on her property.”

  Violet plopped down on the foot of the bed and huffed out a laugh. “The only entity worthy of legal action are my shoes,” she said, kicking a foot out in front of her.

  “What is it with you and shoes, anyway?” Walker asked.

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess it’s my one thing I have just for me. A killer pair of shoes by a French designer—even if I have to scour every resale shop to find them—makes me feel like I have some semblance of control in my life. They make me feel like myself. It’s silly.” She sighed. “Doesn’t matter. From here on out, I solemnly swear to dress my feet for the job.”

  Walker’s brow furrowed. “You’re not you without the shoes?”

  She shook her head. “It’s not like that. Or maybe it is. These are Louboutins, you know. Got them for twenty bucks!”

  “Looboo who?” Walker asked, and Violet laughed.

  “I’ve never said this out loud, so it’s probably going to sound ridiculous, but my only connection to my French heritage are the shoes. I only speak French at home and only with Maman. But the shoes are with me all the time. And even if no one else knows, I do.” She rolled her eyes. “See? It sounds ridiculous.”

  Walker shook his head. “I don’t think that at all. Some of us need reminders of who we are—or who we used to be. It’s not my place to judge what works for you. Until, of course, it causes you bodily harm. Then you get my two cents whether you want it or not.”

  He gave her a crooked grin, and her stomach did a flip-flop in return.

  This man was getting to her in ways he shouldn’t, making her want things from him she couldn’t.

  “You know what’s way better than an identity crisis?” she asked, desperate to change the subject.

  “What’s that?”

  Her eyes traveled into the open door of the bathroom. “That.” She pointed toward the claw-foot tub. “I want to get out of these clothes and forget about real life for a while. Have you ever seen anything so gorgeous?”

  Walker’s gaze followed hers. He raised his brows. “Except the doc said not to submerge your hand in water. Think you can handle that?”

  Violet pouted. “Right. Forgot about that part. But I mean, I can take a bath without getting one appendage too wet, right? As long as I don’t do anything stupid like trip and fall face-first into the tub, thereby submerging all of me…” She grimaced. “I guess the day’s track record doesn’t speak volumes in favor of me not doing something like that, huh?” She stared longingly at the tub. “Some other time, I guess. Maybe if I do that wine tasting thing and stay the night again, the same room will be vacant. A girl can dream, right?”

  She went to work unzipping her booties, which was easier said than done with one hand.

  “Here,” he said, kneeling at her feet. He wrapped a hand around her ankle, and lordy this man was a walking contradiction—hands rough and calloused yet his touch achingly gentle. He glanced up at her, his blue eyes meeting hers for one quiet moment. She skimmed her teeth over her bottom lip, and he dipped his head, removing one shoe and then the other, his hand cradling her ankle for several seconds even after the second booty had hit the floor. Maybe he wanted what he shouldn’t, too. Would it be so bad if he did?

  Violet swallowed as all her senses recalled the last time he’d had her ankle in his hand, how his fingers traveled the length of her leg and then slipped beneath her skirt.

  She squirmed on the edge of the bed as heat coiled in her belly. This whole not being attracted to a man she worked with—or worked for in this case—was not going entirely as planned.

  “Take it easy tonight,” he said softly. “And while I’m not saying ‘I told you so’”—he offered her a crooked grin—“I’m not gonna argue about that whole dressing your feet for the job promise, especially when you’re on our little corner of the map.”

  She pressed her lips into a smile. “Noted.”

  He rested her heel on his thigh, then ran his palm up the back of her calf. His jaw tightened.

  “Sorry,” he said, glancing up at her. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

  She shook her head. “Probably not. But what does it mean if I’m happy you did?”

  “Means we got ourselves a situation,” he said.

  His eyes—those ridiculous, gorgeous blue eyes—were a steely, unreadable mask. The only hint she had that he was fighting as much of an inner battle as she was, was the fact that his hand hadn’t moved.

  “Right. A situation,” she repeated. “Because I can’t date someone I work for. Self-imposed rule seeing as how that worked out so well for me last time.”

  “And I can’t date anyone right now. Another rule, I guess. Doesn’t stop me from wanting—things.”

  His fingers kneaded her calf, and her mouth went dry.

  “I hate that I’m such a rule follower,” she said.

  His mouth twitched into a grin, and hallelujah she was breaking through that veneer of his, even if they were treading a dangerous line.

  “I’ve actually never been too good at rules,” he said. “Broken a lot more than I’ve followed. That’s for damn sure.”

  She nodded, then swallowed hard over the knot in her throat. Was that an invitation? Because it sure as hell felt like one. Maybe she wanted to break the rules, too. She placed her hand over his and slid it up her thigh, his fingers slipping under the hem of her skirt. They were rough on her skin, but they were warm. Strong. And she remembered too well what they were capable of.

  “Looks like a pretty roomy tub. Maybe you could help me keep from getting my hand too wet.” She couldn’t say much for what was happening between her legs, though. It was more than physical with this stranger of a man. In the five days she’d known him, he’d been there for her in ways no other man had ever been, and she wanted more of that—craved it with every fiber of her being—while at the same time she knew getting involved with another employer was so not what she should be doing. Walker wasn’t Ramon. He might not be a complete open book, but he wasn’t hiding some secret family. What were the odds of him having a skeleton in his closet to match that? Besides, they weren’t technically on the clock now.

  His fingers twitched against her skin, and she sucked in a breath. But he slid her foot off his knee and stood. “I’ll run the water and wait until you get in. Make sure there are no mishaps and all that. I should go then before either of us does something we’ll regret.”

  And then he was gone, the water running, and her heart beating a rhythm she didn’t quite recognize.

  She flopped onto her back, silently chastising herself for pushing him too far. She’d asked him to bathe with her. Had she read the signals wrong? Rules or no rules, she swore he was flirting with her as much as she was with him.

  She squeezed her eyes shut as logic pushed its way back into her thoughts.

  Oh God. She’d just asked her boss to bathe with her.

  “Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope,” she chanted to herself.

  “What was that?” his deep voice sounded from the open doorway of the bathroom. Her eyes opened wide, and she propped herself up on her elbows to see him standing there, her cowboy in shining armor, holding a luxurious white terry cloth robe over his forearm.

  “For when you get out,” he said matter-of-factly. “But—don’t run off with it.” He showed her the price tag hanging from the cuff of the sleeve. “Or you can kiss that complimentary stay good-bye.”

  What if she kissed him good-bye?

  Violet! she silently yelled at herself. Rules!

  He offered her the garment, and she stood and took it, dropping it on the foot of the bed.

  “Can you…um…turn around a second?” she asked.

  He answered by pivoting his body away from her.

  She let out a breath and then unbuttoned
her dress, removing it and her undergarments in a matter of seconds. Then she shrugged the robe over her shoulders, her eyes falling shut as she let out a soft sigh.

  “Oh God. This feels amazing.” She hummed with pleasure. “You can turn back around now.”

  Walker faced her again, his face once more unreadable. He was good at that, she realized—putting the mask back on.

  “You need a minute or two alone with the robe before you hit the tub?”

  She backhanded him softly on the shoulder, thankful for the joke to break the building tension. “It’s an amazing robe. You should try one sometime.”

  “I’ll add it to my bucket list.” He nodded toward the bathroom. “I’ll stay out here until you give me the all clear that you didn’t take a dive or anything like that.”

  Her smile fell. She knew she was treading on thin ice already, but she couldn’t keep the words from coming out of her mouth.

  “So you’re really leaving, huh?” Actually, she virtually applauded herself. What she’d wanted to say was, Stay. Stay. Stay. Stay. God, please stay. Take off all your clothes, climb into that tub with me, and stay. So by comparison, she’d done pretty damn well if she did say so herself.

  He nodded once. “You know and I know that’s the best course of action here.”

  “You’re right,” she said. “Of course you’re right. Although, if you really want to get technical about it, I work for your brother. Jack’s the one who hired me. And he did say something about being the managing partner of the whole Crossroads operation…”

  Walker shook his head and laughed. “Of course he did.”

  “So we’re just going to be friends. Colleagues and friends.”

  She held out a hand for him to shake. He stood there for a few seconds, then finally took her hand.

  He let her hand go and took a step back.

  “Any other place, at any other time, Teach, and I’d have broken every goddamn rule for you.”

  She shrugged the robe off and let it fall to the floor. His eyes widened as he took in her naked form, the only indication that she’d gotten to him at all. “I’d break ’em for you, too. Here’s to better timing someday.” Then she sauntered into the bathroom, turned off the running water, and lowered herself into the tub. A few seconds later she heard the door to room four snick shut.

  She let her head fall back against the lip of the tub and let out a soft groan.

  “Rules,” she grumbled. “Stupid, stupid, rules.”

  Violet still had one good hand she was allowed to submerge in water. Thanks to Walker Everett, she needed it.

  Chapter Nine

  Walker stood in the hall for several long minutes while he and his erection had a silent argument. His brain tried to reason with his body offering logic like She’s on the rebound, and Employer/employee situations always get messy. He even went so far as to bring his own sobriety into the fray with the reminder that New relationships only add new stress to an already difficult recovery. But all his dick had to say was A beautiful naked woman asked you to bathe with her, and you said no. IDIOT.

  He was screwed either way. His body was simply hoping for the literal interpretation, but he wasn’t allowing it.

  He wasn’t lying when he’d said he wanted her. He didn’t remember ever feeling this sharply aware of his desire, nor could he recall said desire ever being this strong. It only took him another second to understand why.

  He’d never been with a woman stone cold sober. Touching Violet like he did the other night—hell just taking off her damned shoe today—he’d never felt anything like it. He’d never felt. Not like this.

  He’d had his regulars in the past ten years—an old high school girlfriend who texted him late at night for a house call every now and then; Becca, the girl who worked the checkout line at the local grocer. They dated, if you could even call it that. It was usually pizza, beer, and sex. Then there were the occasional tourists who found themselves at the tavern looking for some local fun, and Walker was always happy to provide it.

  He hadn’t been a dick—at least he hadn’t meant to be. But the women who’d chosen to enter his orbit in the past understood what they were getting into, and if they didn’t, they learned quick enough that Walker Everett wasn’t anyone’s project. No one was going to fix him if he didn’t want to fix himself.

  He wasn’t always on a bender like the night everything quite literally came crashing down. But even the days he was sober, he was really only sober enough. There was always that fuzzy numbness that kept him from the one thing he’d avoided since he was fifteen—the ability to feel. He already knew he wanted Violet in the most primal, physical way. What the hell would it mean if he started wanting more? He was in no position to deal with that right now, nor would he put that burden on her. He’d have to keep his dick in his pants and his mind on something bigger—the decision on which he’d been teetering since he got the offer.

  Living in the town where his mother passed away and his father turned into an unrecognizable stranger was hard enough. Living here sober was even harder. Working the vineyard with Violet Chastain nearby and wanting what he was in no position to want? It would be damn near impossible.

  The goal was clear now. He had to get away so he could figure shit out without his past or present getting in the way.

  He pulled his phone out of his pocket and fired off a quick text to Sam Callahan.

  I’m in. Just need to make it to the wedding and then ready to get the hell out of here.

  Sam’s response came only seconds later.

  Glad to have you on board. Details to come.

  So it was settled. Walker was heading north to build a ranch. He would do what his brother asked of him—try to stay sober and get his life together. He just wasn’t going to do it here.

  On his way down the stairs, he heard some kind of commotion going on in the common room, which hopefully meant the foyer would be clear.

  But he should have known better than to hope, especially with how swimmingly the day had gone so far.

  “Well, well, well. Look who’s taking care of our poor, injured, new employee.”

  Walker rolled his eyes at his middle brother, Luke, who stood at the base of the stairs with his arms crossed and a shit-eating grin on his face.

  “What’s with the clothes?” Walker asked his brother, nodding at Luke’s plaid button-down and clean jeans. As far as Luke Everett’s daily attire went, this was practically formalwear. “Got a wedding or something?”

  Luke raised a brow. “Nice diversion, little brother. Lily and Olivia met with the Callahans today to talk about starting the restaurant addition. Lily decided since she was already here and Olivia had a giant kitchen full of food that she’d turn it into a dinner party.”

  Lily was the love of Luke’s life and Luke’s best friend’s ex-wife. Yeah, that was a huge mess until it wasn’t. She was also a chef who was opening her own restaurant in conjunction with Olivia’s redesign of the B and B. Once that happened, business at the B and B was sure to double. Walker was handy enough in the kitchen, but Lily Green was a chef to be reckoned with.

  “Jack and Ava are on their way,” Luke continued. “They’re waiting for Ava’s parents to come hang with Owen. Texted you, but I’m not surprised you didn’t respond. You know you’re always welcome to be our”—Luke exaggerated having to count out all the couples—“seventh wheel,” he said with a chuckle.

  “I’m good,” Walker said, brushing past him. He’d already done the check-in thing with Jenna this morning. The last thing he wanted was to end his day the same way, with the third degree on his life, his reclusiveness, or whatever from his brothers, the sheriff, and their significant others. Couldn’t a man have a Wednesday night to himself to just be?

  “You avoiding us because you want to prove you can go it alone, or are you avoiding us because you’re drinking again?” Luke asked quietly, and Walker froze midstep, then pivoted to face his brother.

  “You wanna grab the
sheriff and give me a Breathalyzer? Happy to oblige,” he said bitterly. Yet he couldn’t blame his brother for suspecting. Walker didn’t even trust himself to make this stick, but he was trying. When Jack had asked him to get sober, something shifted for Walker. He’d never be able to repay his oldest brother for the sacrifices he made to keep him and Luke safe from Jack Senior, and that was a burden Walker would carry for the rest of his days. The least he could do was try for him and hope that it would get easier, that one day he’d try for himself. That day hadn’t yet come, though.

  “I want to trust you, Walker. But you make it so hard when you shut everyone out.” Luke clapped his younger brother on the shoulder. “Just stay for dinner,” he said. “You’ve been avoiding us since you got home. I swear it’s only a meal and not any sort of inquisition. And whatever’s going on with Violet Chastain—”

  “She’s none of your damned business,” Walker said, his voice low and controlled even though the further Luke pushed, the more he felt like this was an inquisition. The truth was, even though Walker had made sure that nothing further would happen between the two of them, he didn’t owe his brothers any sort of explanation.

  “But she is my business,” Luke said. “Yours and Jack’s, too. She works for the family, and the two days she’s been affiliated with Crossroads Vineyard, she’s been with you for what looks like more than your average, day-to-day business dealings. While I know she’s a grown-up and can make her own decisions…”

  He trailed off. Every muscle in Walker’s body tensed because he knew the part Luke didn’t want to say.

  “I’m the drunk who couldn’t possibly have his shit together after only two months of being dry.”

  “That’s not what I said.” Luke scrubbed a hand across his jaw. “Does she know?”

  “Wasn’t exactly part of the interview,” Walker said.