Page 63 of Careless Hope
Or at least the ones I hadn’t said.
Walker had been perfectly talkative. And he didn’t seem to have any problem with our arrangement, or the impending end of it.
I shook my head, trying to dislodge the image of him.
“Focus,” I muttered to myself, needing to snap out of this funk. I had wanted to learn how to navigate the dating world, didn’t I? To finally catch up on the experiences I’d missed while buried in books and lecture halls? Well, now was as good a time as any to put those lessons into practice.
I may not be able to date yet, but I could prepare for it. Because this thing with Walker was coming to an end.
Sooner rather than later.
21
Walker
I’d always lovedthe sound of the river, as if it had something to whisper to me, if only I’d take the time to sit by its banks and listen. Today, though, I wasn’t there for the murmurs of the water or the rustle of the cottonwoods; I was there to set a scene that’d be more memorable than any rowdy night I’d ever been known for.
As I trudged up the gentle slope that rose from the river’s edge, my boots left soft impressions in the rain-softened grass. The afternoon sun was doing its best to dry the land after last night’s rainfall, but it had some catching up to do.
This was my spot, as it was my pa’s before me. This was where I came to think, to dream, to escape. It was as much a part of the ranch’s legacy as the brand seared into the weathered wood of the stables.
I laid out the old quilt Mama made years back, smoothing the edges over the springy grass. Can’t say I’ve ever been one for details, but today, it seemed right to make an effort. Besides, Caroline deserved more than just half-hearted attempts. She deserved the full picture—the quiet beauty ofthe land, the comfort of pillows like you were sinking into a cloud, all the simple pleasures she missed while cooped up in her office, seeing patient after patient and not taking time for herself.
That ended today. At least temporarily.
Tucking a wildflower behind my ear to give her later, I chuckled at my own foolishness. Who’d have thought I would be out here playing Martha Stewart? But here I was, arranging cushions and fluffing pillows like they were part of some glossy magazine spread.
The ranch, with its endless pastures that rolled like waves towards the sky, watched me, an ever-present witness to the man I was trying to become. One who cared about things that lasted longer than a cold beer on a hot day. One who could build something that mattered.
“Alright,” I whispered to the ranch, tipping my hat to the expanse before me. “Let’s hope she likes the view as much as I do.”
A short drive later, I was back at my house preparing a picnic with a basket I’d borrowed from an all too enthusiastic Eryn. She hadn’t hesitated to give me a list of tips and ideas she thought I should implement for Caroline, but I was overwhelmed enough already and promptly forgot everything she’d said.
The kitchen was never my battleground, but there I was, a warrior armed with a bread knife and a mission. Caroline’s favorites weren’t exactly cowboy chow, but when you’ve got a woman like her coming over, you don’t serve beans and beef jerky. Turkey and cranberry sandwiches, the crusts meticulously trimmed, sat alongside plump strawberries and grapes so ripe they looked ready to burst with sweetness.
A bottle of chilled white wine, something a buddy in town had sworn by, had me second-guessing. Would she think it wastoo much? Nah, Caroline was all sophistication wrapped in a laid-back package; she’d appreciate the gesture.
Glancing around the kitchen, I caught sight of myself in the reflection of the window—big, burly, and suddenly unsure. But this was for Caroline, and if there was something worth betting on, it was seeing her smile after a long week patching up the folks of Whittier Falls.
I’d asked her to meet me at my place, and when I heard her car tires crunching on the gravel, I rushed to the front door like a little kid waiting for the ice cream truck. I took a deep breath and forced myself to calm the fuck down. There she was, emerging from her car with a puzzled look that turned into a grin that could knock the wind out of any man.
“Hey, Walker,” she called out, walking up the steps with the grace of a summer breeze. “I gotta say, I wasn’t expecting your text. Everything okay?”
“Better than okay,” I assured her, leaning against the doorjamb. “You’ve been runnin’ yourself ragged at the office, and the other day was a real doozy. Figured you could use something . . . nice.”
“Something nice?” Her green eyes twinkled with curiosity, reflecting the vast sky above us.
“Yup, something nice,” I repeated, feeling a chuckle bubble up from my chest. I nodded toward my truck. “Hop in, and I’ll show you.”
I grabbed the basket and dropped it in the back while she settled in the cab. As we drove, I couldn’t help but sneak glances at her. She’d changed from the shy girl I remembered into someone who could command a room—or an emergency at the clinic—with just a steady gaze. It was more than her smarts or those deep-green eyes; it was the air about her, like she carried a piece of the wide-open spaces wherever she went. And today, Iwas bringing her back to where the sky kissed the earth, hoping she’d find there was more to me than just calloused hands and dusty boots.
Even if I was confused as to what that meant.
The engine hummed a low tune as I steered my truck down the familiar dirt road that snaked through the ranch. My grip on the steering wheel was firmer than usual, betraying a nervous energy I couldn’t quite shake off. It wasn’t like me to get all twisted up inside, but then again, Caroline Cressley had a way of turning my usual calm into something akin to a dust storm whirling in my chest.
“Quite the mysterious detour,” Caroline mused from the passenger seat, her voice pulling me back from the edge of my own thoughts.
“Life’s too short for straight roads and no surprises,” I replied, aiming for a tone lighter than the lead settled in my gut.
