Page 47 of Slow Hands Cowboy

Walker was always teasing, except she wondered if Walker was never teasing so much as pasting a façade over the top of whatever he actually meant.

He was like one of those poisonous creatures that were brightly colored and beautiful, looking like something glorious and attractive when in fact it was a warning that all that beauty could kill you.

Yeah. That was Walker.

She wondered if anybody else recognized that.

People tended to write him off. Not just because of his mother, not just because of his background, but because they thought he was that good-time boy.

Over the years, she had heard so many women in town talk about hooking up with him.

She’d heard them call him a golden retriever.

And she had treated him like one through the whole planning of her wedding.

Like he was something biddable. Friendly. A lap dog.

Walker was not a lap dog.

Walker wasn’t a dog at all.

In fact, he was holding the leash.

She had the sudden feeling he had been the entire time. It was only just now that she had become aware of it.

Then he shifted his hold on her hand, lacing his fingers through hers, and she forgot what it was to breathe.

She forgot everything.

She was about to say something, just because she thought she needed to, to do something to defuse the intensity that was growing between them, but Walker began to lead her down the sidewalk, and she looked around them, waiting to see if anybody had noticed them yet.

No one yet. But the street was crowded, and most of the people out would be tourists.

Except…

How long would it take them to recognize Walker and Addison from the video? That was the question.

The videos were filmed from enough of a distance that she didn’t know how recognizable either of them would be. But Walker had done a whole host of interviews since all of this had occurred.

But he was wearing his hat now, tilted over his face, and she looked down as well as they made their way toward the restaurant.

Not very sensible, maybe, because the whole idea was to be seen, but she found that she was having much more of a reaction to all of this than she expected to.

And her hand still in his, he opened up the door to the restaurant, and held it, letting her lead on before he melted away from the door and followed her in.

“Reservation under Grayson,” he said, looking at the woman behind the podium at the front of the restaurant.

“Oh, of course.”

But then, Addison saw the moment that the girl recognized her. And recognized him.

“Aren’t you… You were… Sorry, but you were the bride from the video.”

“Yes,” Addison said, trying to smile.

“Are you on a date with the guy that rescued you?”

It was happening. In real time.