Page 32 of Careless Hope
“Right,” Caroline confirmed, a small smile at my remembering her favorite.
“Good choices,” Marge nodded approvingly, scribbling down our order. Then she leaned in just a touch closer, lowering her voice as if sharing some town secret. “You know, I’ve got a sixth sense for these things, and I gotta say, there’s something special brewing between you two.”
I could feel my cheeks heat up under her knowing gaze. “Oh, Marge,” I chuckled, trying to brush off her comment while hoping my face wasn’t betraying me. “That’s just your matchmaker side talking.”
“Could be,” she said, winking at us before heading back to the kitchen.
I let out a breath and glanced around, noticing that we weren’t as unobserved as I’d thought. A few of the regulars were stealing glances our way, and I caught snippets of hushed conversations that seemed to rise and fall with our movements. It felt like the whole diner had suddenly tuned into the ‘Walker and Caroline Show’.
“Looks like we’re not going unnoticed,” Caroline murmured, her eyes darting nervously to the other tables.
“Then let’s not pretend.” Before I could second-guess the impulse, I reached across the table and took her hand, lifting it gently to my lips. The softness of her skin against mine made something stir deep inside, something unexpected and unsettling.
Her eyes went wide, surprise flickering in their depths before she looked down, her cheeks blooming with color. It was endearing, that blush, and I couldn’t help but tease, “Now, what’s this? Dr. Caroline, you blushing? You sure you haven’t done this before?”
“Shut up, Walker,” she muttered, but her lips twitched in a reluctant smile. Her hand remained in mine, though, and that was a victory all its own.
“See? Natural,” I whispered, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. And for a moment, amidst the clatter of silverware and the soft murmur of the Whistle Stop Diner, I let myself believe it really was.
Fifteen minutes later, our food was served and I couldn’t pretend I wasn’t hungry at the incredible scent it gave off. I forked a piece of the chicken-fried steak into my mouth, the crisp breading and tender meat a familiar comfort.
“You know, the ranch ain’t just a place to work. It’s like its own living creature,” I said, leaning back against the worn leather of the booth. The neon sign from across the street cast a warm glow over Caroline’s features as she listened.
“Out there, with the horses, it’s more than a job. It’s . . . peace, I guess. When you’re breaking in a colt, getting him to trust you, it’s like nothing else matters.” My voice trailed off, and I couldn’t help but chuckle at myself. “Listen to me, going all sentimental.”
Caroline tilted her head, her hair cascading over one shoulder, and her green eyes held a spark of genuine interest. “I love hearing about it. The way you talk about the land, the animals . . . it’s clear you have a real connection to it all.”
I scratched the back of my neck, feeling a bit sheepish under her gaze. “It’s in my blood, I reckon. Granddad used to say that land is like family. You take care of it, and it takes care of you.”
Her lips curved into a soft smile, and she leaned forward, her elbows resting on the table. “Do you ever think about what it would be like to run the whole operation?”
“Every day,” I admitted, pushing around a stray green bean with my fork. “I think about what it would be like, but I wouldn’t want that if my life depended on it,” I added with a laugh. “Gray—as much of an asshole as he is—he does great handling such a big job. I don’t know that I could do all that. But create my own division? Focus on something specific that would help people, more than just us? Now that’s whatmy heart is callin’ for. And I reckon it’s something I can do a good job at, too.”
She nodded thoughtfully, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, an action I was quickly associating as purely Caroline, that inexplicably snagged my attention.
“You want to build something lasting, don’t you?” she asked. “To leave your mark?”
“Exactly,” I said, feeling a kinship with her in that moment, a shared understanding of legacy and hard work.
“Sounds like you’ve given this a lot of thought.” Her gaze lingered on mine, and I could see the wheels turning in her head.
“More than most people know,” I replied, taking another bite of my meal, but my appetite had shifted from the plate in front of me to the conversation we were having. I wanted to tell her everything, to lay out my dreams and fears right there on that checkered tablecloth.
“Tell me more,” she urged, and so I did. I talked about the early mornings, the way the sunrise painted the sky over the fields, about the satisfaction of a hard day’s work.
As I spoke, Caroline’s focus never wavered. She laughed at the right times, her eyes dancing with amusement, and when I mentioned the time I got thrown into a water trough by a particularly ornery mare, she covered her mouth to stifle a giggle.
“Seems like life on the ranch isn’t short on excitement,” she said, once the laughter had subsided.
“Excitement, drama, and a whole lot of dirt,” I quipped, and we both chuckled.
For a moment, just a heartbeat really, the rest of the diner faded away, and it was just us, sharing stories and dreams. And despite the charade we were playing, something about this felt real, felt right. Maybe it was the way she looked at me when Italked about the things I loved, or maybe it was the simple pleasure of being heard.
“Thank you for sharing that with me, Walker,” she said softly, her voice carrying the weight of sincerity.
“Anytime, darlin’,” I replied with a grin, feeling a warmth spread through me that had nothing to do with the food.
I watched Caroline’s fingers nervously dance along the edge of her napkin, and I couldn’t help but break into a mischievous grin. “You know, for someone who claims to be rusty at this whole dating scene, you’re throwing some pretty clear signals my way.”
