Walker Rose

“Humiliation spread through my body where shock had just been. How had I not seen it? “You’re not embarrassing me like this.” He snapped the lapels of his tux jacket. “I’ll buy some extra time while you get presentable.” A shard of steel lined my spine. “I’m in a wedding dress with pretty ringlets cascading from my head like an icy waterfall. Isn’t that presentable enough for you?” He shoved my shoulders and the back of my head thunked against the wall. “I’ll deal with that mouth tonight.” “I don’t want what you have planned for it.” He pulled his arm back and too late I saw the fist aiming for my gut. My lungs turned to ice. I couldn’t breathe. Then, he was yanked away from me and slammed into the wall across from me. A pair of wide, familiar shoulders blocked my vision, longish dark brown hair with a slight curl touching the collar. The curved wooden handle of a cane stuck out from between the men, horizontal to the floor. Boyd was pinned to the wall by a cane.”
― Walker Rose, Bourbon Runaway

“Let’s get you to bed, darling.” I shook my head. “No. No ‘darling.’ That sounds fake as hell.” The perplexed expression was back on his face. “Excuse me?” “Have you called other girls darling?” His mouth tightened. “Right. So if I called you big boy, would you feel a little . . . diminished?” “That’s an oxymoron, is it not?” “So were they.” I shrugged and hiccupped. “If you call me darling again, I’ll salt your dinner so bad your mouth is going to feel like the Sahara for a week.”
― Walker Rose, Bourbon Promises