Page 21 of Forever To Me

“What’s your sign?” I ask Cami.

“A warning sign,” Jack says as he leans forward and boops her nose with his finger.

“Fuck off,” Cami glares at him but he only grins even bigger in return.

I laugh at Cami and Jack’s antics before the energy changes around me, and I look over to see him.

Walker.

I’m not in a hurry to move. Not when I have the perfect opportunity to just look and see him in action.

Walker stands with the kind of presence that commands attention without asking for it—broad and steady, with an effortless confidence that comes from knowing exactly who he is. There’s no pretense about him, no polished edges, just him—all raw masculinity wrapped up in faded denim and quiet intensity.

The same way he was in bed with me, and I clench my thighs at the memories.

His black t-shirt stretches across his shoulders, the cotton clinging to a chest that is every bit as solid as it looks. The sleeves hug his biceps just right, the definition in his arms impossible to ignore as he lifts a hand to adjust the black cowboy hat perched low on his head. A worn leather belt, the silver buckle dulled with age, anchors his well-worn jeans, the fabric faded in all the right places.

And Lord, those jeans. They fit him like sin, sitting low on his hips.

My gaze trails back up, drinking in the rough stubble along his jaw—just enough to make him look rugged, like he didn’t bother to shave this morning. Like he woke up and ran a hand through that dark, slightly tousled hair, shoved on a hat, and walked out the door without giving a damn that he looks that good.

My stomach does an unsteady little flip, heat curling in my chest before sliding lower.

Because good is an understatement.

His warm hazel eyes, rich and deep, shift toward me, the kind that carry stories and secrets, and my breath catches, just for a second. I remember the way those same eyes darkenedwhen he knelt in front of me, his hands gripping my thighs, his breath warm against my skin.

My cheeks flush at the memory.

And maybe it’s the way he’s here now, or maybe it’s just the sheer force of him, standing there looking at me.

He says something to Cash, and they share a laugh. He helps a few customers at the bar and looks up as he’s making drinks. I give him a smirk. He shows no response and continues to make drinks and engage with people at the bar. I just want him to look at me. And he’s not. And I don’t know why that matters to me, but it does.

Alright, Cowboy.

I saunter over and smile hesitantly at him as I approach. He doesn’t smile back but his head tilts slightly. “What can I get you, Red?”

“I’m sorry,” I admit, sheepishly. “Can we start over?”

“Nope,” he says as he pours another beer and slides it down to Cash who watches us curiously as he mixes up a cocktail.

“Why not?” I slide onto the stool and lean forward on my elbows.

His eyes gaze at my exposed cleavage underneath my black sleeveless shirt and back to my eyes and he looks away, “We can’t go backwards. Only forward.”

“But wouldn’t that be what starting over is? Like a clean slate moving forward?”

He watches me for a few beats and says, “That would be like pretending nothing happened. Is that what you want, Red?”

“Yes,” I say. Then I think about what he just said. Shit. No. I don’t ever want to forget about that night. I’ll never be able to forget about that night.

And from Walker’s wrinkled brow, I’m not sure he can either.

And based on his reaction to my answer, I don’t think that was the right thing to say.

Back to square one.

Chapter 9

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