Page 65 of Slow Hands Cowboy

Just as Addison was turning to get in the car, he wrapped his arm around her waist. Then he lowered his head, and before he could think better of it, his lips crashed down on hers.

Chapter Thirteen

Walker was kissing her. Walker was kissing her, and she thought that her heart was going to explode.

She had barely thought the words than he was pulling away again.

It had practically been chaste. A little peck on the mouth to show something to Alan, she knew. And she should treat it like it was casual, like they had done so much more than that. But she couldn’t. She hoped that she didn’t look shell-shocked, because she felt like she was. Her ears were roaring, her throat dry.

She wanted to pull him back against her so that she could really and truly get a feeling for his body against hers, his chest beneath the palm of her hand, the way that his lips had fit against hers. She didn’t have a whole lot of experience and it had been a very long time since she was with someone other than Alan, but she was pretty sure she had never had a first kiss like that. He hadn’t parted her lips, hadn’t touched his tongue to hers.

It had only been just slightly longer than a kiss that might be nothing more than a greeting, but she felt like it had transformed her. And she had to pretend like it was commonplace.

She got into the truck and he closed the door behind her, and she buckled her seat belt. She clung to her shoulder strap, staring straight ahead. Then he started the engine, and began to pull the truck out of the driveway.

“Where are we going?”

“I told you,” he said, “my place.”

“You only said that for Alan’s benefit.”

“No, I didn’t. You’re coming with me. You’re going to move in with me.”

The roaring in her ears got louder. “What?”

“It makes sense. The place is big. There’s plenty of space.”

“Are you trying to... Overboard me?”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“It’s a movie. With Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell. And she’s mean to him, and then she gets amnesia and he takes her back to his place and convinces her that she’s his wife and that all his hillbilly kids are hers and he treats her like a maid.”

She left out the part about it being a romance.

“No. I’m not trying to Overboard you. You don’t have amnesia.”

“No.”

“But it’s interesting you’d think of that. Since it implies you agree that your behavior is problematic.”

“I never said that.”

“Seems like you think it, though.”

She crossed her arms firmly under her breasts. “I know what you’re doing is for the drama. I really do. But I don’t know that I actually need to move in with you.”

“If you don’t want to, you don’t have to. But just imagine the optics.”

She let out a long sigh. Then she let her head thunk against the passenger side window. “If only this were the 1950s. Then I couldn’t be seen living in sin with you.”

“Yeah, sadly, people don’t really think of it that way anymore, and the ones that do probably weren’t voting for you anyway. Since you were already cohabitating with Alan prior to marriage.”

“At least we were getting married,” she muttered.

“Well, do you want me to get down on one knee?”

The image of him doing just that, of him dropping to one knee and holding a ring out in front of her, made her feel so weird that she rejected it instantly.