I lift a brow as I accept it. “Don't you want to hear the prices of each option? The pros and cons? We haven't even discussed budget—”
“Nope. I know you’ll make the smartest choice.”
I won't lie—I feel a flutter between the thighs at that one. I mean, what woman doesn't appreciate a man who can handle his responsibilities without fussing over the price tag?
Don't let the faded denim and the cowboy hats fool you. The guy manages his money like a boss. On top of the highly profitable farm, he transferred his shares in the family company to Cannon a few months ago. And more recently, he sold a greenhouse and a small plot of land to Jude and Iris for cultivating flowers for their flower shop. Recently, he’s even been talking about replacing his entire fleet of tractors with more eco-conscious equipment. That’s no cheap endeavor. Walker isn't hurting for money.
In any case, I'm a professional and I plan on acting like one. And professionals can't be overtly swooning over their clients. “If this is any indication of how you spend your money, I’m going to have my work cut out for me.”
He grins devilishly. “Don't think you can handle it, Princess?”
Why is his unbothered approach to this so damn sexy? I lose my focus and my eyes go wandering down his body again.
And again, he clears his throat.
My gaze flings to his. Shit. Did he catch me checking him out? “You’re…sweaty,” I comment dumbly, in an attempt to cover up my wandering eyes. It falls flat.
“Uh. Yeah. That tends to happen out here on the farm. Come help me with the hogs, and you’ll get sweaty, too.”
My stomach does a weird little flip. That shouldn’t sound so…dirty. Surely that wasn’t some innuendo coming from Walker Kingston. It’s just me. Me and my horny, horny mind.
I laugh it off, trying to ignore the thickening sexual tension inside the tiny hallway. If I didn't know better, I'd think my best friend was trying to flirt with me. In that weird, sexy farmer way of his.
Hurriedly pushing the delusional thought from my mind, I plant myself back into our reality. "Um...next room?"
He nods, and off we go again. This time, we stall in front of a closed wooden door.
"Storage," my friend tells me.
I pop the door open and stick my head inside. I nearly get my eye poked out by a hanger. A dirty mop head merrily rolls off a shelf. Walker yanks me back to save me from a falling ironing board. "Caution tape would be a good idea." I sass, coughing through the dust.
Walker chuckles. "Sorry about that."
"This closet is huge," I tell him. "And it's a really inefficient use of space. I don't see why you need a storage closet of this size inside your house. You have a zillion sheds and shacks all around the farm. You could move your junk there, tear out a new window in here and have yourself a decent-sized guest bedroom.”
He seems borderline offended at the suggestion. "I don't need a guest bedroom." He turns and walks away and that's how I know this debate is over. Stubborn man.
I huff, frustrated. Walker is anti-social as heck and he's opposed to anything that might be interpreted as inviting outsiders into his space.
"Fine," I concede reluctantly, and I shove my way past him, roughly bumping my shoulder into his strong bicep as I'm headed to the very last room. His bedroom. I grumble as I push open the door. "If Disney is ever looking for an actor to portray the Beast, I really hope they give you a call."
The moment the last word slips out of my mouth, I feel my best friend's hands grip my waist. I feel him sweep me off my feet. I yip like a startled chihuahua and I'm soaring through the air. I land on the mattress, Walker-scented pillows and sheets all around me. My nipples tighten instantly.
"What the hell, dude?" I'm trying to come across as offended but my laughter isn't helping with my credibility. "That was so uncalled for. I'm trying to be a professional here." I toss a pillow at him.
He effortlessly swats the pillow away before it hits him in the face. "Professional, my ass. Your snark was uncalled for."
Now, Walker is looming above the bed, smirking down at me. I'm panting, with my skirt all hiked up and my lacy bra exposed at the neckline of my blouse. Of course, my mind goes back to the last time we found ourselves in this compromising position. The night he picked my drunk ass up from the bar. And right now, I want him on top of me just as much as I did that day.
He offers a hand and helps me sit up. Then, he drops down next to me as I'm still trying to get my outfit back in order. He makes a big deal of adjusting my shoulder pads and smoothing back my flyaways.
I know he's only joking around but my body surely doesn't know it. Let me tell you—my nipples are aching and I have to squeeze my thighs together to keep my pussy from whimpering out loud.
I love this playful side of Walker, the fun, goofy side. The side of him hardly anyone else gets to see. It feels like a little, private secret just for us.
He watches me with a soft expression. "How are you today, Penn? Earlier, I didn't get the chance to check in, with you being all Miss Professional Woman."
One corner of my mouth swings into a smile. I punch him in the shoulder. "I'm good." But my heart is still beating way too fast. We're sitting way too close.
Fuck.
This is getting to be too much for me. Too intense. I seize the opportunity to remind us both of the reality of our situation.
I inch away from him. “Oh, at the next doctor's appointment, they will be collecting your, uh, sperm. For the insemination.” Why are these words suddenly so hard to say out loud? I feel myself blushing fiercely. My eyes have a mind of their own,
