Chapter 9
Walker
I’m awake before my alarm. That’s not unusual after two years on tour buses. What’s unusual is the first thought that surfaces before I’ve even opened my eyes.
The way Mallory felt in my arms last night.
So fucking perfect. My little prickly pear, her fingers digging into my shoulders as our lips connected, the world disappearing around us.
I hadn’t meant to groan when she bit my lower lip, but the sound escaped before I could stop it, and the satisfied smile I felt forming on Mallory’s lips against mine only made me want her more.
Then there was I like that you’re real.
I said that out loud. To a woman who doesn’t know my last name. My actual last name.
I stare at the bunkhouse ceiling and let the weight of that settle while Ford snores two beds over.
The guilt isn’t new; it’s been threading through every conversation I’ve had with Mallory since the pond.
But last night by the river it calcified into something I can’t talk myself around.
She told me about her boys. Their father.
Her dad. She handed me the real shape of her life, piece by piece, and I gave her a partial name and a guitar.
I’m a self-absorbed jackass. And lying here does no good except giving the guilt more square footage, so I yank on some jeans and a Henley, grab my guitar, and hop in the UTV.
The glamping section is still empty this early, so I take my guitar down to the river and find the same spot where we sat last night. The blanket is gone, but the grass is still flattened a little, and I sit in the middle of that like I deserve it. Don’t care that it’s wet with dew.
I think about Mallory and her boys and what a great stepdad I have. Her having kids doesn’t scare me. It’s the opposite. I want to meet them.
I strum the opening notes of my new song, playing through what I have.
She don’t need the spotlight
She don’t need the noise
She just needs somebody who appreciates her thorns
I ain’t scared of prickly, I ain’t scared of dark
Guess dark and prickly might be just my kind
I stop at the bridge and play the chord progression once, twice. And then something shifts, not in the music, exactly, but in me, and I stop trying to write around the thing I’ve been avoiding and just write it.
But I’ve been half a man
Giving her a name that ain’t mine
If you knew the whole truth of me, darlin’
Would you still want to waste your time
I play it through twice more until it sits right, and then I set the guitar across my knees and look at the water, the current cascading over the limestone bed.
The song is done.
I head back to my UTV when Bree falls into step beside me on the path. She doesn’t say good morning or ask how I slept, which is unlike her. She just walks with me for a few seconds, looking straight ahead until my own manners kick in.
“Morning.”
“Morning.”
She eventually stops between two glamping tents, her long brown ponytail dangling from underneath a ball cap. She looks up at me, her forehead creased. “So, you had fun with Mallory last night?”
I don’t respond because kissing and telling isn’t my thing.
“She still doesn’t know who you really are, does she?”
And there it is. The universe holding up a big ole’ mirror to the guilt already cementing itself inside my veins. I bite the side of my cheek and stare at the distant hills.
“We’re leaving tomorrow morning, Walker.”
I look down at my colleague with a heavy sigh. “I know.”
“You’re a good guy, Walker James. And I know me and Izzy being here isn’t something you planned on—“
“Stop it, Bree. It’s not your fault that I stopped thinking with sense.”
“We’re going on one last trail ride this morning, then swimming later. But I’m telling her after dinner if she doesn’t already know before then.”
She peels off toward the cabins without another word, and I stand there in the middle of the path and let that land fully.
She’s not warning me. She’s giving me a chance to come clean, but that terrifies me.
Because I realize that I want a chance at something real with Mallory, even though she still thinks my name is Cameron Walker from Oklahoma.
I text Lucinda to let her know that I want to help out at the stables, then head that direction.
Mallory and her girls walk up early, while I help Carson saddle up the last horse.
“Morning’ ladies.” He tips his cowboy hat. “You’re first, so you get your pick of horses today. Same as last time?” I grab snacks and hand them to the group, following Mallory over to Cinnamon.
“Hey there, Prickly Pear.”
“Hey, Cowboy.”
Mallory’s black hair is in braids again, loose this time, a straw cowboy hat on her head.
“Love the hat.”
“It’s the gift shop special.” She grins, and I notice that Kate has a matching one in dark brown.
“It looks good on you.”
My eyes skim her body, a tight black tee underneath a camo zip hoodie, a pair of girlie Doc Martens biker boots that are about as western as she’s going to get, I suspect.
The brown leather and etched flowers soften the look, and I love that Mallory kept her style even when shopping for dude ranch gear.
“I had fun last night.” I skim my thumb over her hand for just a second, wishing I could do more.
“Aaron, no!” A woman’s sharp tone cuts through the stillness as a teen boy approaches.
It’s the same boy from the cuddle barn, who runs right over to me and Mallory. “Um, hi.”
Oh, shit.
“Hi there.” My voice is steady although my insides are horse muck.
“You’re Walker James, right?” He’s looking at my forearm, where I forgot to put on my ink cover-up.
“Did you ask the owner, Lucinda, about that the other day?”
The boy’s ears turn red, a sheepish look crossing his face.
“Nah, that’s alright. She just mentioned it to me, is all.”
Mallory watches us with a blank expression, her body completely still.
“I saw you at Boots on the Lake with my parents. It was my first concert. You kicked ass.”
I’m pretty sure he shouldn’t be saying ass, but I just smile and nod. “Thanks, man. My full name is Cameron Walker James, but out here I’m going by Cam.”I look over at Mallory. “I’m trying to keep it on the down-low while I’m out here.”
“Okay. Nice to meet you.”
“Same, bud.”
We shake hands, and he runs back to his parents, his mother mouthing Sorry. I wave it off, my stomach in knots as I turn to Mallory.
“I think I’m finished here.” She pats Cinnamon on the snout. “Maybe later, sweet girl.”
“Mallory—“
“You should probably go help someone else, Cowboy.” She walks backward several steps, holding my gaze, before pivoting sharply on her heel and leaving the barn.
Izzy notices and elbows Kate, who runs after her sister.
Bree and Izzy approach as more guests step into the barn for the morning ride. Bree gives me a long, disappointed look as her sister’s wince says you messed up in a big way, Walker.
Carson looks from them to me and gives a head nod, understanding that something’s up. Since I wasn’t slated to work the barn this morning, I nod back and step out of the barn with the Winthrop sisters.
“That could have gone better.” Bree cocks her head at me, her hands on her hips, the Sun Ridge Records emblem practically shouting disappointment from her long-sleeved tee.
“It’s not great.” Izzy glances at her sister, then at me, fidgeting with one of the ties on her blouse. “She doesn’t do well with surprises like that.”
“Who would?” My words are sharp, directed fully at myself.
“You don’t get to be surprised by her reaction, Walker. You didn’t do a very good job of being incognito. Someone was bound to recognize you.”
“I’m not surprised by her reaction, Winthrop. I’m angry at myself for falling for a woman that I lied to.”
Izzy’s gray eyes pop wider. “You’re falling for her?”
I shrug, scrubbing my hand over my beard. “I am.”
“You can’t play around with her heart, Walker, or Cameron, or whatever you want me to call you. She’s got young boys who deserve the best.”
“I know. She showed me pictures and videos. They’re amazing and strong and look just like their mom and aunt.”
A wide smile stretches across Bree’s face. “I think you are smitten.”
“Definitely smitten.”
Izzy doesn’t smile. “Then you need to fix this. On Mallory’s terms. And if I know her? She’s already packing her bag. So it will have to be in Indigo Hills. Because this isn’t the right place for all the grovelling you’ll have to do.”