Page 1 of Loving You

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No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t seem to remember my number one rule: don’t walk and answer emails at the same time. Okay, not my numberonerule. Maybe number seven.

Fine.I didn’t have rules, but if I did, this one would be important.

Why? Because unlike in the movies, when women in power suits could walk through New York City with their noses glued to their phones, this was real life.

And in real life, being hyper focused on getting shit done while also trying not to be late for a meeting had consequences.

Just ask my throbbing ankle.

But it wasn’t my fault the shoes I’d chosen made it difficult to be productive while also running late. It wasn’t even my fault that I hadn’t had enough time to answer my morning emails while sipping coffee in my silky floral robe before I left for work this morning.

No, all the blame landed squarely on the shoulders of the stupidly hot and equally annoying man I was about to meet. And instead of thinking about how irritating it would be to hear his shit when I showed up late, I’d been focused on my clothes.

More specifically, these damn shoes.

Evenmorespecifically, how satisfying it would be for all-work-and-no-play Eric Walker to let his stuffy mask slip a little when he saw how good they made my legs look.

Which was stupid, because I didn’t even like the guy.

Not likethat,anyway.

Out of all the Walker brothers, Eric was the most serious. The man rarely smiled—though, watching his siblings find their happily ever afters and blessing him with the title of Uncle Eric had started to change that a little. But in general, it bugged me that he was wound up so tight. There was more to life than work.

In fact, I was proof of that. Sure, some might call me a certified workaholic, but I also knew how to have fun. I hung out with my girls, I shopped till I dropped, I drank champagne at brunch, and when trivia night at Walker’s rolled around, I was the one grinning like a fool while I kicked ass answering questions about random stuff I’d learned on TV.

Thus, choosing these mile-high heels was an effort to show Eric there were plenty of things worthy of his attention beyond his duties running the family brewery. Not because I liked him or wanted to be a source of recreational fun for him, but because it was good for his soul to think about something other than beer, tater tots, and employee health insurance,dammit.

When I finally made it to the coffee shop where we’d planned to meet—only two minutes late,thank you very much—a quick glance through the window had me stopping dead in my tracks. Then my ankle throbbed anew as I jerked back and did a completely cartoon-worthy spin to dash out of sight.

Which, of course, meant I ran smack dab into a wall.

However, it wasn’t the wall of the coffee shop—thank god for my nose—but a wall of Sammy. The youngest Walker brother, and probably the only person in the world I’d want to run into while runningawayfrom what I’d seen through the window.

He already knew. He already knew, so I wouldn’t even have to tell him.

Well, he didn’t know everything, but he knewsomething, and that was more than I could say for the rest of my friends.

“Holy shit, April,” Sammy choked out, grabbing my shoulders to keep me from tipping off my heels. “What the hell?”

I steadied myself as his hands slipped away, so fucking grateful it was him I’d crashed into. “Sammy.”

As a bartender—well, now barmanager—Sammy was unusually good at reading people. It helped him a lot while determining if someone needed to be cut off or kicked out or placated so they didn’t leave a shitty tip for their server if something beyond his or her control had caused them to be unsatisfied with their meal.

And right now, I could see him doing a quick read on me. I wasn’t sure what I looked like, but judging by how hard my heart was pounding, the cold sweat breaking out over my back and neck, and the thunderous whirring in my head, it probably wasn’t good.

He grabbed my hand and pulled me into a narrow alley that led to the back of the shops lining Main Street. That was the thing about these Walker boys. Nobody messed with one of their own. This particular Walker was the youngest and most cheerful of the bunch, but since I was best friends with his wife and my two other best friends were married to two of his brothers, that meant I was family.

“Is it that guy?” he asked.

Shit, he’s quick.

I nodded, surprised to find my jaw suddenly not functioning. I worked it from side to side, old wounds rising back to the surface like an icy ghost of a flame.

It was funny how that happened. I could throw myself into work, fun, friends, and family, and as long as I kept smiling and kept busy, I didn’t remember.

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