Page 110 of Whirlwind

He grinned at me. I grinned back. There was appreciation, certainly, as I took in this fine specimen of man, but no jolt of wow, no lust, not that hard core take my breath away electricity. The electricity I had with Beck.

“Uh…hey. Thanks.” I disengaged myself from his hand and stepped back. “Whoa.” I steadied myself on my platforms that suddenly felt ridiculously high.

He reached his arm out to me. “You okay?”

“It’s these damned shoes. Not used to them."

His eyes widened. “You’re American?”

“Were you hoping for a European tourist?”

He chuckled. “You good to walk?”

“I’m good.” I turned to head back to the terrace.

“You here on vacation?” With one stride he’d caught up with me.

“Yep.”

“You like it? Pretty amazing.” His grin widened.

“Hmm. Very amazing.”

“My name’s Walker.” He stretched out a hand, but I didn’t take it.

“Hi, Walker. I’m Violet.”

An eyebrow lifted, he stopped in his tracks. “Seriously?”

“Do you have a problem with my name, big guy?”

“No, not at all.” He brushed a hand down his mouth. “It’s real pretty.”

We continued walking. “My sister and I were both named for our great-great-grandmothers who were hardy pioneer women. Flower names were big back then.”

“Oh yeah? What’s your sister’s name? Rose? Daisy?”

“Cliché. Cliché. Her name is Jessamyn for jasmine. How’s that?”

“Absolutely beautiful.” He licked his lips, his gaze shooting to his feet for a moment. “So where you from, flower girl?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

“The Black Hills of South Dakota.”

His eyes lit up, but there was no facetious chuckle. “I would believe you.”

“Why’s that?”

“I’m from Montana.”

“Get out.” I let out a loud laugh.

“Truth. I’ve been traveling for over a month now. Started in Portugal, France, Spain, hopped over to Italy, now I’m here.”

“Wow. On your own or—”

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