Heat filled his eyes, darkened them. Her fingers tightened involuntarily on his shoulders. She glanced at his mouth. He hadn’t shaved and golden stubble covered his upper lip, his chin. The sun highlighted the pale strands of blond in his hair, the strands waving in messy disarray. It was strangely alluring, this less-than-perfect side of him. He was solid and smelled so good, like clean sweat and man. And she was at her son’s football game, her body swaying toward Walker like he was one of those fairy-tale princes she didn’t believe in. As if she was so weak she needed a man’s support to keep her upright on her own two feet. Pressing her lips together, she fell back to her heels, let her hand drop to her side. “You enjoy the rest of your weekend, Walker,” she told him, unable to work up even the pretense of a smirk. She sauntered away but felt him watching her, that hot gaze boring a hole between her shoulder blades.
