Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 112762 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112762 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
I’d spotted Walker before I met Monroe. He’s kind of hard to miss around the estate. And working in the same place meant I got to catch frequent glimpses of his gorgeous ass.
Anyway, working together and being in the same friendship circle meant I learned Walker was gruff with everyone and not to take it personally. Still, after watching the way he salivated over my baked goods (not a euphemism—we officially met at a school bake sale, and he practically devoured my table), it was disheartening to not have him acknowledge, much less reciprocate, my subtle flirting. I’d seen him weeks before the bake sale, working on the estate, and I’d hoped he’d notice me, but as a housekeeper, I was invisible. At least, that’s what I’d been counting on. That once we met for real, he’d see me.
He didn’t.
As far as Walker was aware, I was just a person with a knack for baking who was also friends with his friends.
Realizing he had no intention of saying anything else, I worried my lip with my teeth. Usually, I could talk to anyone, and I was pretty good at bringing the most reserved people out of their shell. But Walker reduced me to feeling like a teenager. He’s older than I am—according to Monroe, in his late thirties, so he’s at least a decade older. There was a worldliness about him, and he exuded a weary-eyed, seen everything, done everything attitude. But I liked that about him.
I opened my mouth to ask him how he’d been since we hadn’t seen each other in a while and he was treating me like a near stranger when the elevator jolted, metal creaking and squealing as it stopped. It threw me off-balance, and I fell against the wall.
“Are you all right?” Walker reached to steady me, concern marring his brow.
Fear slivered through me. “Are we stuck?”
He hit the ground-level button, and nothing happened. His tone was grim. “It would appear so.”
As I took in the small elevator, anxiety tightened across my chest.
Walker’s eyes narrowed on me as he pulled a walkie-talkie off a clip on his belt. Holding it to his mouth, he said, “You’ve got Walker. I’m in the east wing staff elevator with housekeeper Sloane Harrow. It’s stalled. We’re stuck.”
We’re stuck.
“Oh, God.” Black dots crawled across my vision, my cheeks tingling as my panic increased.
I was vaguely aware of the talkie crackling. “Got it. Maintenance is on their way.”
“Sloane.”
My chest rose and fell fast as I struggled to draw in sufficient breath.
“Sloane.”
A large, warm hand settled on my shoulder, and I looked up from my clenched fists to find Walker’s head bent toward mine. His eyes were like staring into the waters of the Mediterranean on a sunny day.
“Are you claustrophobic?”
I nodded rapidly.
He squeezed my shoulder. “Look at me. Keep looking at me.”
I did as he commanded.
“Breathe in.” Walker took a slow, easy breath in and then released it. “Breathe out.”
I copied him.
“Keep doing that and stay focused on me.”
Up close, I could see every hair of his trimmed beard, and there were a few grays. Not a lot, but some. My gaze dropped to his mouth as I continued to slowly, calmly breathe. His lower lip was full compared to his top. His mouth was usually pressed into a hard line, so I hadn’t noticed the plushness of that bottom lip. I wanted to nibble on it. My cheeks heated, and I glanced up at him to see if he’d noticed. To my shock, his fierce gaze was fastened on my mouth.
My breath hitched as tingles awoke between my legs and in the curve of my breasts.
Walker straightened as if he’d been shot. “Sit down.”
His command was far blunter than I think he’d intended.
At my bemused expression, he moved to my side and opened his suit jacket so he could slide down with his back against the wall. His legs were so long. With his knees bent, his suit trousers strained against the heavy muscle of his thighs.
With his pure sexiness, the bastard had distracted me from my claustrophobia.
I felt a sharp pang of alarm that I forced away.
Okay, so not entirely distracted.
I hurried to sit beside him, my elbow bumping his as I drew my knees to my chest. Though I wasn’t short at five seven, I still looked tiny next to him.
“Better?” he asked.
“Yeah, thanks.”
There was a beat of silence, and as if he had to force the question out, he asked, “Have you always been claustrophobic?”
Shaking my head, I tried not to wince as I remembered the day that would set off a lifelong fear of enclosed spaces. “I got trapped in a closet for five hours when I was six years old.”
Walker nodded solemnly. “That will do it. Maintenance will fix this soon.”
“Do you think we’re close to the ground?”