Her deep brown eyes were wide, her full lips soft, and her pulse raced in her smooth neck. Walker wanted to touch thatpulse point, but he gripped his hat in his left hand and held his right out to shake instead.
“Ay, caramba,” the woman said softly as she put her hand to her heart. “That wasexquisito.You took my breath away. The most epic cowboy hero approach imaginable.” Her dark eyes sparkled at him as she put her hand in his. She spoke with the slightest accent that could probably be heard routinely on the streets of Miami.
His heart raced from her complimentary words and the touch of her smooth, warm palm. Was she Spanish? South American possibly? Her features were more European than what he pictured as the Cuban image of Southern Florida.
“Can you repeat that racing up to us and leaping off your horse again so I can get all the details down? Oh, and don’t forget the sweeping your hat off your head and ruffling your hair. Oy! I loved it all.Muy encantador.”
The whole group laughed at her exuberance. Except for Easton. Walker wished he knew whatencantadormeant. He thought the translation was enchanting. He hoped so.
“Anything for you, ma’am.” Walker’s chest expanded, holding onto her hand rather than shaking it.
Easton chuckled and pushed against Walker’s right side, trying to shove him out of the way, but Walker held his stance. The twins never competed for women; their loyalty to each other was supreme. There was also the fact that Walker stepped aside to let his brother swoop in the infrequent times a woman caught both of their eyes.
Not this time.
He would compete with, thump, or even work to out-charm Easton to get this lady’s attention. Luckily he wouldn’t have to do any of those things. As soon as he explained to Easton the connection and feelings he’d just experienced, Easton would bethe one who’d step aside. His brother loved him and would drop his ‘dibs’ claim once they talked.
“You’ll wantmeto display the most gucci cowboy hero,” Easton said in his smooth, charming voice.
“Now, boys, stop your preening over our guest,” Mama scolded. “Miss Marci Richards, this is my son, Walker.”
“A pleasure, Miss Richards,” Walker repeated. Was Mama as off her game as he was? He’d already told Miss Marci Richards his name. Marci Richards was not a Latin name, but she looked and sounded Spanish, exotic in his mind. Marci was a sweet, beautiful, fun, and enchanting name just like the lady.
“Just Marci,por favor.” She squeezed his hand and let go, wrapping her arms around herself and shivering. A large purse hung over her shoulder. She clamped one hand protectively around the bottom of it. “Aiden stole me away in the middle of the night from my balmy island with nothing but my laptop bag. Though I adore this epic scenery”—she looked at Walker and then at the wooded forest—“more than I can even explain without my computer and a thesaurus.” She winked and Walker chuckled. “I mean, mountains!” She pointed to the east, as delightful as any person he’d ever encountered. “But he promised you all have warmer clothing.”
“Oh yes, doll, we do.” Mama wrapped her arm around the woman and turned her toward the house. “I’ll go get this angel settled. You men figure out the details and such.” She looked to Aiden and Nick. “You’re staying for dinner.” It wasn’t a question.
“Of course we are,” Aiden answered. “Neither of us would miss out on the most delectable home-cooked food on the planet.”
“You charmer.” Mama smiled and hustled Marci away, across the drive and up the porch steps.
Marci glanced back before they entered the front door. Walker felt the gravel beneath his feet shift. He spread hisstance and returned her longing look. Her gaze was locked on him and his heart beat out of control. He gave her what he’d heard defined as his ‘devastating, slow cowboy grin’. She smiled in return, and the Montana autumn day was sparkling with opportunities that lit a fire in his chest.
The ladies disappeared into the house. Walker wanted to chase after Marci, get one more heart-stopping exchanged glance to last him through the minutes they had to be apart. He’d never experienced anything like this.
“Wow. Did you see the look and smile she gave me?” Easton murmured. “I think I’ve found my future wife.”
“No way.” Walker rounded on him. “You don’t even know her.”
“Neither do you.”
Walker wanted to protest. Of course he knew her. Marci Richards had knocked him to his knees from a simple look and she’d saidhewas the epic cowboy hero, not Easton. He glanced around and saw Aiden and Nick both smirking at him and Easton. His dad gave them a concerned look.
“And you’re not over Lily. You don’t want a rebound relationship, bruh.” Easton spoke out of concern and love, not competition. Walker knew that, but they had to talk. Alone.
He had been gone over Lily for years. It was crazy that the second he’d seen Marci, he hadn’t thought about Lily until Easton brought it up. His years-long crush on Lily had always felt significant. Right now, anything about Lily paled in comparison to the powerful deep-brown gaze and soft touch of Marci’s hand. Lily’s kindness had been the stars. Marci’s touch, smile, and unique way of expressing herself was the sun. Lily was his past. Marci was his future.
“Okay, enough,” their dad said. “Miss Richards is here for protection, not for you two to fight over.”
Walker wanted to explain to his dad that he would protect her single-handedly, that Marci had been sent here from the angels above, not just for protection.
“What’s happened?” he demanded. “Who would dare threaten Marci?”
Aiden’s smirk grew as Walker revealed how invested he already was in this woman he barely knew. But then any trace of teasing disappeared and Aiden’s blue eyes grew serious. “Benjamin Oliver and King Frederick’s son Wilhelm.”
Walker’s focus was yanked from the magnetic draw to Marci to an unsettling churning in his gut.
“Excuse me?” his father said as he and Easton were both speechless.