Page 21 of Careless Hope
“I’m named after my aunt. She died two weeks before I was born.”
Sutton coughed.
Why the hell did I say that?
I couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up then—a mix of nerves and genuine amusement. I was ridiculous. If only flirting were as straightforward as stitching up a wound or diagnosing a routine cold. If only I could navigate this dance with the same surety I felt when tending to my patients.
I took a sip of the drink, the ice clinking softly against the glass, and barely managed a murmur of gratitude. My mind was a whirlwind of doubt. How did one transition smoothlyfrom casual banter into . . . whatever came next in these encounters?
“So Brent, have you been up to Wilder Peak?” Sutton’s voice sliced through my frazzled thoughts like a lasso cutting through the dusty air. She leaned forward, her gray eyes twinkling with mischief as she addressed the cowboy who had taken a seat across from us.
His gaze flickered to Sutton, then back to me, his smile faltering just a touch. “Can’t say that I have. Is it a good hike?”
“One of the best,” Sutton declared with the authority of someone who’d scaled its heights more than once. “Right, Caroline?”
“Absolutely,” I chimed in, relieved for the change of subject. “The view from the top is breathtaking.” I’d only hiked it once, ten years ago, but I’m sure I remember it was.
The cowboy nodded, his interest piqued. “Sounds like something I should check out.”
“Y’all should go together,” Sutton suggested with an impish grin. “Caroline knows all the trails like the back of her hand. Plus, she’s a doctor. If you fall and sprain your ankle, there’s no one better to be on the trail with.”
Brent considered this, his eyes appraising me anew, not as a conquest but as a potential adventure buddy. It was a look I found infinitely more comfortable, and I relaxed into my chair, finding my footing in the conversation at last. I might know little about hiking, but it was a much safer topic than romance.
As they chatted about the local flora and fauna, I stole glances at Sutton, marveling at how she handled the situation. There was an art to her interaction, a subtle dance that kept the mood light and engaging. She was masterful in her deflection, never once making the cowboy feel unwanted or dismissed.
I needed to learn her moves, to understand the rhythm of thissocial tango. Maybe then, I could step confidently into the fray of Whittier Falls’ dating scene without tripping over my own two feet.
“Hey, if you’re really interested in hiking, the community center is organizing a group trek next weekend,” I heard myself saying, surprised by my boldness. Surprised I even remembered the flyer I’d seen earlier in the week, hanging on the wall of the post office.
“Count me in,” the cowboy replied. “Maybe you can show me some of those hidden gems on the trail, Doc.”
“Perhaps I can,” I answered, the words feeling foreign yet exhilarating on my tongue.
One of Brent’s buddies called him back over, but not before he slyly grabbed my phone and used it to call his own, giving him my number in the process.
“I’ll text you later this week. It was nice meeting you, Caroline.”
“You too.”
Sutton shot me a proud smile as he sauntered away, and I felt a swell of gratitude for her guidance. It wasn’t a slam-dunk, but we’d managed to turn the conversation around into a solid C grade, at least. I celebrated with a sip of my drink.
Glancing over the rim of my glass, I caught sight of Walker Anderson leaning casually against the bar, his laughter mingling with the low hum of country music and the clinking of bottles. A woman with sun-kissed hair was tossing her head back in amusement at something he said, her hand resting lightly on his arm.
“Been a tough night for him,” Sutton murmured next to me, drawing my attention away from the scene. “Family dinner earlier. Poor guy got an earful from everyone about his life choices—or lack thereof.”
I stole another glance toward Walker, noting the easy smile on his face despite what Sutton had just shared. He always wore that same grin, like nothing could ever touch him, but I wondered if it was just a facade.
“Really?” I asked, swirling the ice in my drink. “He seems . . . unfazed.”
Sutton sighed, propping her chin on her hand. “That’s Walker for you. Acts like he’s got it all under control, but I think he’s just really good at hiding when things get to him.”
The mention of his brother at the diner flashed through my mind, how his eyes had flickered down, the laughter lines around them vanishing momentarily. Walker, the perennial bachelor with a heart for horses and a penchant for partying, suddenly seemed less like a caricature and more human—vulnerable, even.
“Seems like there’s more going on beneath that cowboy hat than most folks realize,” I mused aloud.
“Definitely.” Sutton nodded, her gaze still fixed on Walker. “He’s got dreams too, you know? Wants to do more with the ranch. But proving that to the family . . . Well, it’s like trying to lasso the wind. You know how stubborn Damon is. Well Gray is like his twin. Neither of them want to hear anything contrary to what they believe to be true.”
Responsibility and legacy were heavy mantles to wear in a place like Whittier Falls, where the past often held as much sway as the present. Working hard wasn’t just expected; it was woven into the very fabric of our lives, as much a part of us as the soil under our fingernails or the dust on our boots.
