Page 42 of The Roper & the Author

Dinner finished and they all pitched in to clean up. She and Walker went outside with Clint and Lily and played corn hole in the back yard. Everything seemed positive and happy, but there was an underlying tension that worried her.

She and Lily helped the men do the nightly feeding. She felt comfortable with this family and wanted to be part of them in the worst way. His family added to Walker’s appeal but was only one of the reasons she was so drawn to him.

When Clint and Lily waved goodbye and loaded in their truck, Marci stood next to Walker on the front walk and felt her stomach twist with nerves. She’d heard Easton would be backlate tonight, and she was praying hard for Abuelita to be rescued and still felt at peace. She could feel her time with Walker slipping away, and she wanted to grasp it and hold on.

“Are you ready to head to bed?” Walker asked in a gravelly voice. It was dark out, probably eight or eight-thirty.

She darted a glance at him. It was a beautiful fall evening, crisp and refreshing in the mountain air. She had her plan tonight and it wouldn’t work very well to kiss out here in front of the house. Who knew where Mama and Papa were? Anyone could walk by. She did not want any interruptions. This was going to be awkward enough without the worry of someone walking up while she enacted her ploy.

“I actually … need some help from you.” Her voice pitched up with nerves and she twisted her hands together.

“Anything,” he said in a deep voice that curled tendrils of heat through her.

“Chacho!” She grinned at him, forgetting to play coy. She almost forgot her apprehension that he might say no and reject her. “That was enticing.”

His slow grin spread across his face, and he studied her with those incredible blue eyes as if she were the most important person on earth.

She grabbed his hand and tugged. “Well, come on then. I think my idea will work best in my room.”

“Okay.” He let her pull him up the porch steps.

They walked hand in hand into the house. He set his cowboy hat on the entry table and followed her up the stairs, ruffling his hair as they walked.

Neither of them said anything. The closer they got to her room, the more her stomach contorted with anxiety. Would this work? What if he denied her request? Walker had been her hero in many ways, but he hadn’t made a move to kiss her yet. What if he saw himself as her protector but didn’t feel the deep drawbetween them and had no desire to love and kiss her? With her lack of relationship experience, she could be projecting her own feelings and making them radiate in his face, but they might have no depth or real roots.

He held the door for her room, and they walked in. He didn’t close the door. She released his hand and shoved the door closed. The thump sounded very loud in her ears. Pivoting to face him, she saw he looked as uncertain as she felt.

She almost wimped out at that uncertainty, wondering if she could claim she had a burned-out light bulb, but then he flashed her that irresistible smile. “What can I help with?”

“Well, um … I told you I started a story about a handsome cowboy roper,mi vaquero guapo cordelero.”

“Yeah.” His gaze intensified. He ran a hand through his hair. She bit her lip. The silence grew. How did she ask a man to kiss her? Especially this most ideal and appealing of men. Walker Coleville.

Maybe she could start slow and pray he got the hint?

Please let him get the hint.

It might be wrong to pray for a kiss, but the good Lord wanted happily married people, so maybe it was okay.

“I would like some help with a scene I’m writing.”

He nodded.

“I think that I should have my back against the wall.” She backed up and planted her back against the wall next to the door. “You need to walk toward me, nice and slow, staring at me as if I’m your entire world.”

His brows lifted, but he didn’t say anything. He simply complied.

He slowly eased toward her, his blue gaze trained on her and his gaze heated, as if she were hismundo entero. He stopped half a foot away.

“That was nice,bien caliente. Gracias.”

“De nada,” he said softly. “I just read a scene in your book where Sean approached the heroine just like that.”

“Ah. Thank you for reading my book.” And reenacting it with her. He was perfect. This moment could be perfect.

She pulled in a ragged breath, overwhelmed by his nearness, his musk and leather scent, his thoughtfulness, the depth of yearning in his blue eyes. He had to feel the same. He just had to.

“Now just a little closer. I need that large, macho frame to overshadow me.”

---