Page 43 of Careless Hope
“Alright then. Show me you mean it, Walker. Keep thoseboots dirty with work and your heart clean with intention. Don’t go hurtin’ her now.”
“I won’t, and I don’t appreciate you insinuating that I would.”
“I’m just going by past experience.”
An uneasy silence settled between us as a hawk circled lazily overhead, its shadow skimming the ground like it was touching secrets. Gray shifted his weight from one boot to the other, and I could tell there was something else on his mind, more than just fence lines and my potential to screw things up.
“Look, Walker,” he started, eyes scanning the horizon before landing back on me. “Eryn’s been talkin’ my ear off ‘bout you and Caroline.”
I leaned against a fence post, trying to look casual, but my heart kicked up dust like a startled stallion at every mention of her name. “Oh yeah?” I kept my voice steady, squinting against the sun that hung low, burnishing the edges of the day.
Gray’s features, usually as hard as the packed earth under our boots, softened around the edges. “She’s excited, wants to have y’all over for dinner tonight.” He scratched the stubble on his chin, looking almost sheepish. “Consider this your official invite.”
Dinner with Caroline and my family? The thought twisted my insides into a pretzel. It was all supposed to be a ruse, a way to show I had something stable in my life besides a steady hand with the horses. I knew we’d have to do this. I asked for this. But sitting down at a table, passing the potatoes to Caroline like we were some kind of item . . . that felt dangerously close to real.
“Sure, Gray. We’d be glad to,” I managed, hoping my voice didn’t betray the jumble of nerves and excitement doing the two-step inside me. My commitment to the ranch was ironclad, butthis dinner meant playing a part that might be more than I bargained for.
“Good.” Gray gave a single nod, his face unreadable again. “Seven o’clock. Don’t be late, and don’t you dare wear that muddy pair of boots onto Eryn’s new rug.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I said, tipping my hat in his direction. As he walked off, the reality of it all settled on my shoulders like a winter coat—warm but heavy. I was about to break bread pretending to be something I wasn’t sure I could ever truly be. And yet, the prospect of being near Caroline, sharing a meal, and a laugh or two, sent a ripple of anticipation through me that was as unsettling as it was invigorating.
I slipped the hammer back into my tool belt and pulled out my phone, dusty from a day’s labor and rough around the edges—much like myself. The screen lit up with Caroline’s text thread already on it; I guess my fingers knew who they were itching to talk to even before my brain gave them the go-ahead.
Hey, Doc. Gray and Eryn want us over for dinner tonight. Can’t say no to his cooking without risking a standoff. You in?
I tried to keep it light despite the storm of butterflies wreaking havoc in my stomach.
There was a pause long enough for me to question if I’d come on too strong or not strong enough. Then three dots popped up, bouncing in time with my heartbeat. When her text came through, it was like a gust of wind clearing away the dust of uncertainty.
Sounds lovely, Walker. I’ll be ready.
I could almost hear her voice, steady and sure, her green eyes sparkling with that hint of mischief I’d come to look forward to.
Great. See you at seven.
I replied with more eagerness than I intended. My thumb hovered over the send button as I pondered whether to add something else, maybe a winky face or a ‘can’t wait.’ But that felt like stepping over an invisible line I wasn’t sure we’d want to cross. So I left it simple and hit send.
Stuffing the phone back into my pocket, I returned to the task at hand, fixing the fence like I was shoring up my own defenses. Each post I set, each nail I drove home, was a reminder of what I was working toward—a legacy, a future, a chance to prove I was more than the town’s resident good-time guy. And tonight, Caroline would be right there beside me, part of this world I was trying to shape into something solid.
Time slipped by as I finished up my chores, the anticipation building with each tick of the clock. When it was finally time to get ready, I took extra care scrubbing the day’s labor from undermy nails and combing through the tangles in my hair—long enough now to give those old cowboy legends a run for their money. I swapped the dusty denim for my best pair—a little faded, but they hugged my legs just right. The new black t-shirt was plain, sure, but it had a way of making the blue in my eyes stand out, or so I’d been told.
Pulling on my nice boots, I felt the weight of the evening ahead. This wasn’t just dinner; it was a step toward something bigger. Toward finally getting what I’d dreamed of. My hands, usually steady from years of roping and riding, were trembling slightly as I picked a bunch of wildflowers from the side of the house. Their colors were vibrant against the backdrop of the fading day.
With the wildflowers in hand, I got up in my truck and gave the rearview mirror a glance before starting the engine. It was showtime—or dinner time, at least. And whether this was part of some elaborate ruse or the first page of a new chapter, I was ready to play my part.
Ten minutes later, I stood in the glow of Caroline’s front porch light, the wildflowers in my hand taking on a life of their own against the night’s canvas. I knocked with my other hand, the sound matching the rhythm of my pulse.
After a moment that stretched out like a summer’s day, the door swung open, and there she was—those green eyes that could stop a man dead in his tracks. She blinked, just once, as if she wasn’t quite sure the scene before her was real or some kind of sweet mirage.
“Hey, Walker,” she said, a hint of that old high school shyness sneaking into her voice. “You’re early.”
It wasn’t quite quarter of, but I guess I’d been too eager to wait.
“Figured it’d be better than being late,” I said, trying tosound casual. I lifted the flowers a little higher, feeling a bit like a schoolboy with his first crush. “Brought you something from the ranch.”
Her gaze dropped to the flowers, and for a second, she looked like someone had handed her the stars straight out of the sky. Her smile grew slow and wide, like dawn breaking, and those sophisticated doctor walls she’d built around herself seemed to crumble away right then and there.
“Wildflowers,” she breathed, her fingers reaching out tentatively as if they might wilt under too harsh a touch. “They’re beautiful.”
