Page 38 of Careless Hope
“Rhythm, right?” Caroline said again, a playful twinkle sparking in her green eyes. “So are you saying there’s a rhythm to romancing someone?”
I leaned back on the worn-out cushion and chuckled, my boots planted firmly on the floor. “Darlin’, there’s a rhythm to everything if you’re doing it right.” I winked, enjoying the lightness of our banter.
“Everything, huh?” She tilted her head, skeptically, her auburn hair cascading over one shoulder. “You make it sound like a dance.”
“Exactly!” I exclaimed, snapping my fingers for effect. “Two people moving together, figuring out the steps as they go along. Sometimes you step on each other’s toes, but that’s part of the fun.”
Caroline folded her arms, mock-serious now. “Alright, impart some more wisdom then. Tell me, what do you find attractive in a woman?”
The question caught me off guard, and suddenly the room felt warmer than before. I scratched the back of my neck, buying time to gather my thoughts. “Well, it’s not just one thing,” I started slowly, “it’s in the way she carries herself, confident but not boastful. Like she knows her worth but doesn’t need to prove it to anyone.”
“Go on,” she urged, her curiosity piqued.
“It’s in her laugh,” I continued, thinking of the sound that had just filled the room, “uninhibited, like she’s not afraid to show joy. And her eyes—when they light up about something she’s passionate about.” I glanced at her, watching her reaction closely. “It’s . . . magnetic.”
“Anything else?” she asked, leaning forward, genuinely interested.
“Sure,” I said, feeling a sudden heat rush to my face. “It’s also in the little things she does when she thinks no one’s watching—the way she tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear or how she bites her lip when she’s focused.”
I stopped, realizing I might’ve been getting too specific, too personal. But Caroline was looking at me with that same intense interest, and it felt like we were the only two people in the world.
“Sounds like you’ve given this a lot of thought,” she noted softly.
“Maybe I have,” I admitted, shifting uncomfortably. There was a moment of silence that stretched between us, thick with unspoken words.
“Thank you, Walker,” Caroline finally said, breaking the spell. “For being honest.”
“Anytime, Doc,” I replied with a casual shrug, though my heart was racing. “Now, let’s see if we can find that rhythm you’re looking for.”
As she smiled, warmth spread through me and my chest tightened. I shifted in the chair to try to shake it off, confused as to why I was having such a visceral reaction.
Caroline pulled out her phone with an air of determination that had me raising an eyebrow. She tapped the screen a few times before holding it up like some sort of shield, her finger poised over the digital keyboard.
“Mind if I take notes?” she asked, not taking those focused eyes off me. “You’re dropping some real gems here.” She started typing before waiting for my response.
“Notes?” I chuckled, watching her tap her recap of the nuggets of wisdom she thought were spilling from my lips. “You planning on turning this into a science project, Doc?”
“Maybe,” she retorted, that analytical gleam never wavering. “There’s an art and science to everything, isn’t there? And I’m all about the empirical evidence.”
I leaned back into the worn cushions of the chair, the laughter bubbling up from deep within. The sight of her, so earnest in her approach to something as wild and unpredictableas romance and sex, somehow made her even more endearing. “Just don’t forget to cite your sources when you publish your findings, Doctor Cressley.”
“Ha-ha,” Caroline rolled her eyes playfully, but the corners of her mouth twitched upwards. “Keep talking, Anderson. Your insights are invaluable.”
“Alright then,” I said, stretching my legs out and crossing them at the ankles. “Where were we? Ah, yeah—confidence. It’s not just about knowing what you want; it’s showing it. A woman who can walk into a room and own it without saying a word? Now, that’s attractive.”
Her fingers danced over the screen, capturing every word. Seeing her so intent on learning, on improving her dating skills, hit me with a wave of affection I wasn’t prepared for. This was Caroline: brilliant, beautiful, and so damn methodical about everything she did. It was a contrast to my go-with-the-flow attitude, but hell if it didn’t make for an interesting combination.
“Confidence, got it,” she muttered to herself, then glanced up. “And how does one exhibit confidence without coming off as . . . arrogant?”
“Ah, the million-dollar question.” I tipped my hat back slightly, feeling the weight of her gaze. “It’s a fine line, darlin’. But I reckon it comes down to being comfortable in your own skin. Arrogance is loud; confidence is quiet but unmistakable.”
“Quiet but unmistakable,” she repeated, her thumbs pausing as she considered the words. Then she smiled at me, that sweet, warm smile that seemed to light up the room. “Thank you, Walker. This is . . . helpful.”
“Just remember, it’s not all about the studying. Sometimes you’ve gotta just jump in and let the heart do the talking.”
“Sounds terrifying,” she quipped, but the twinkle in her eye told me she was more excited than scared.
“Life’s one big rodeo, Caroline. Gotta grab the bull by the horns sometime.”
