Page 38 of Dallas Rivals
“Spill the gossip, come on,” I say, dropping down beside him.
Angelo laughs and glances over once more to make sure he’s still out of earshot.
“My mama says she’s never seen him with a woman,” he says. “She thinks he’s got his own Brokeback situation going on.”
I laugh—long and loud.
“Mr. Walker isn’t gay, Angelo. Look at him.”
We both stare at the cowboy. He looks up at us, brows knotted in that permanent frown, and as I lean toward Angelo to egg him on, we hear, “Miss Saint-Clair!”
Adrenaline shoots down my spine. I drop everything and bolt toward my boss—my sexy, moody, Heathcliff-complexed boss.
A few steps out, I put on my sweetest, most innocent voice.
“Yes, Mr. Walker?”
His sea-green eyes lock onto me, severe as hell. He leaves the axe stuck in the log and folds his heavy arms across his chest.
Looks like his shirt might burst from all that tension.
I’d pay to see it.
“I pay Angelo to work with you—not for you two to be laughing the day away.”
His tone isn’t as severe as his glare; honestly, it sounds more like a petulant teenager than a boss lecturing an employee.
“Fine,” I say. “From now on we’ll be solemn and mournful—very Walker-style. Better?”
Cala, shut up. What’s wrong with you?
His face snaps like a trap—suddenly tight and furious.
“Excuse me?” He uncrosses his arms and steps closer, shrinking the space between us.
My head tilts back so I can see those eyes. I hadn’t realized how tall he is.
“I’ll do the job the way you like it.”
I can’t back down now. This is a stand-off. Words are my only weapon against a man who’s… so… formidable.
“Don’t toy with me, Miss Saint-Clair. I’m watching you.”
“I know. Every morning from your balcony—with the binoculars.”
Yes. I said it.
His cheeks flush a deep red; his eyes dart over my face like a man trying to read a map. He opens his mouth, shuts it, opens it again.
“Go finish your task,” he finally says through clenched teeth. “Then we’ll reestablish the work rules. Again.”
He turns, then stops on his heel.
“Actually let Angelo finish on his own. You find something else to do. Far away from him.”
“Gladly,” I snap back, fists clenched at my sides.
This man gets my cortisol spiking for no good reason.
