11. Walker
Chapter 11
Walker
T he wind rushes past Ollie and me as we cruise down the highway on our motorcycles, the hum of the engines filling the late afternoon air. We went on a relaxing ride—just two guys clearing our heads before a long night at The Black Dog for me and a shift at the Bridger Falls fire station for Ollie.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. Thinking it could be Mack, and I’d better take it, I signal to Ollie that I’m pulling over. I slowly pull off and pull out my phone and read the screen. “Hold up, Cami’s calling.”
“Cami?” he asks in surprise. “Why is my sister calling you?”
“I don’t know.” I sigh, already knowing this probably means trouble. Cami doesn’t call unless she needs something. I answer on speaker. “Hey, Cam, what’s up?”
Cami’s voice was sharp, impatient. “Have you seen my brother? He’s not answering his phone?”
Ollie pulls his phone out of his pocket and looks at it, cursing.
“Is that him? Are you together?” she asks.
“We’re out on our bikes. What’s wrong?” I ask .
“Violet broke down on the old county road just outside of town. Think one of you can go get her?”
Now I know Cami could go get her, but this is her way of meddling just like Maggie does, trying to get me to go get Violet. And I don’t even mind. I want to be the one to go get her.
My grip tightens on my handlebars. I know I have no claim over Red—hell, we shared one night, and that was it. But the thought of Ollie riding up on his bike, Red climbing onto the back, and wrapping her arms around him? Not happening.
“No way,” I bark before Ollie could even answer. “I got it.”
Ollie shoots me a confused look. “You sure? I don’t mind?—”
I twist the throttle. “I said I got it.”
Ollie huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. “Alright, man. Have fun with that.”
“I got her, Cami,” I clip and disconnect.
Not sticking around for any more commentary, I gun it down the highway, heading straight for Violet. I can’t stand the thought of her being alone out there. We don’t have much crime around these parts, but I don’t want to take any chances.
Violet stands beside her beat-up car, arms crossed, scowling at the engine as if it personally offended her. Her bright red hair is pulled into a messy bun, stray strands blowing in the wind, and the sun sets behind her, casting a golden glow on her hair.
When she hears the rumble of my bike approaching, she looks up, startled. Her expression softens, then shifts to something unreadable.
“You’re not Ollie,” she says as I cut the engine.
“Good observation,” I smirk, swinging a leg over my bike and sauntering toward her. “Cami called Ollie, but I figured I’d save him the trouble. We were on a ride together.”
Red narrows her eyes. “I don’t want to be a bother.”
I shrug nonchalantly, even as my pulse feels like it kicks up a notch. “You got a problem with me helping? ”
She studies me for a beat, then shakes her head. “No. Just surprised, that’s all.”
I ignore the way her voice stirs something deep in my chest. I head over to her engine and look at it. I lift a few things and turn to her. “My guess is this won’t be an easy fix. Poppy will have to come get it.”
She sighs and nods. “That’s what I was afraid of.”
I gesture toward my bike. “Come on. I’ll take you back.”
Red hesitates, glancing at the motorcycle, then back at me. “I, uh… haven’t been on one of these before.”
I raise a brow. “What, never?”
She huffs. “Not since I was a kid, and that was one of those little dirt bikes.”
I hold back a grin. “Well, Red, you’re due for a ride.”
I grab the spare helmet and jacket from the saddlebag and hand it to her. She hesitantly slides them on. I’m glad I have extra for her just in case to keep her safe. Climbing onto the bike and steadying it, I look over my shoulder at her. “You gonna stand there all night, or you getting on?”
She rolls her eyes but moves closer, hesitating only a second before swinging a leg over and settling behind me.
“Hold on,” I tell her.
She places her hands lightly on my sides, which isn’t enough.
I exhale sharply. Fuck. This was a bad idea.
I grab her wrists and pull her arms around my waist, pressing her flush against my back.
“You’re gonna wanna hold on tighter than that, Red,” I murmur.
She sucks in a breath, but she doesn’t argue. Instead, she tightens her grip, molding herself against me.
I twist the throttle as the bike roars to life, and we shoot forward, tearing down the open road .
The wind cuts against my skin, warm and sharp as we ride into the late afternoon light. The sun hangs low over the Wyoming plains, spilling gold over rolling hills, long stretches of highway, and distant, towering peaks. It’s the kind of ride I’ve ridden through a hundred times before, but today—today, I see it differently. Today, I see it through Violet’s eyes.
She’s behind me, arms wrapped around my waist, hesitant at first, but now she’s holding on tight. Her body molds to my back, the warmth of her seeping through my shirt, her cheek pressed to my shoulder when we lean into the turns. I can feel her breath's quick, uneven rhythm as she adjusts to the speed, the sensation of flying with nothing but the road beneath us and the sky stretching wide overhead.
She’s never been on a bike before. Said so with a nervous laugh when I handed her the extra helmet, biting her lip like she wasn’t sure she trusted me with her life. But she climbed on anyway, and now here we are—taking the long way back to town, because I can’t bring myself to rush this.
Not with her.
The golden light stretches out in every direction, casting long shadows over the open land. Wildflowers blur in streaks of orange and yellow along the roadside, and a herd of horses grazes in the distance, tails flicking, their coats catching fire in the sunlight. I wonder if Violet notices them and if she’s watching this land, drinking it in like I did the first time I ever took a ride like this.
She shifts slightly behind me, and I swear I feel her sigh. Like she’s giving in, letting go.
I slow the bike, coasting easy, giving her time to take it all in. The engine rumbles beneath us, steady and low, and when I glance down, I catch her fingers curled tighter against my stomach.
“Not so bad, huh?” I call through the speakers in the helmet .
She hesitates, then says. “It’s…beautiful.”
I grin because that’s exactly what I wanted her to see. Not just the land, but the freedom of it. The way it feels to be out here, nothing but sky and open road, nothing tying you down. It's like letting go of anything bothering me and giving it to the wind. My rides are the best way to clear my head.
I take a turn, slow and smooth, and her arms tighten around me again. I could get used to this—her holding on like she belongs here, like she trusts me to keep her safe.
Hell, I’d spend a lifetime proving that she could.
The sun sinks lower, turning the horizon into molten gold, and for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel the need to rush. I don’t feel the pressure of where we’re going or what comes next.
All I feel is her.
And for now, that’s enough. That’s all I’ll allow myself to feel.
I pull up in front of the Dogwood. I kill the engine, but Red doesn’t move.
“That was…” she trails off, breathless.
I glance back over my shoulder. “Not so bad?”
She clears her throat. “I was gonna say kinda exhilarating.”
I chuckle. “Told you.”
Just then, the door swings open, and Maggie stands there, grinning as if she’d just witnessed the juiciest small-town gossip in real-time.
“Well, well, well,” she drawls. “Didn’t take you for the knight-in-shining-leather type, Walker.”
“I’ll finish up your move-in paperwork for the nursing home,” I tell her.
Maggie rolls her eyes as Red hurries to climb off the bike, removing the helmet and fixing her hair like she hadn’t just been wrapped around me for the past half hour. I took the long way so she could see more of Bridger Falls. Really, I just liked having her on my bike. It’ll be worth the shit that Ollie’s going to give me later for this.
“Bad news bears, Walker. Cash called out. His wife is in labor,” Maggie says, her voice light but knowing. “Wherever would you find a last-minute bartender who has experience?”
I swing my leg over the bike and lean against it. “Why? You interested?” I know damn well the angle she’s playing at, but I’m going to give her hell.
Maggie smirks and nods toward Red. “Not me. Violet.”
My gaze flickers to Red.
She crosses her arms. “I do need a job, especially now that I have extra car repairs.”
My lips twitched. “You sure that’s a good idea? Working with me?”
Red meets my gaze, challenge dancing in her eyes. “I thought we were gonna be friends, Walker?”
I exhale slowly. Damn this woman.
Something about how she said friends made my gut clench, making me want to prove they were anything but.
“Okay,” I say finally. “Be at The Black Dog at seven.”
Maggie beams as Red smirks. “Guess I’ll see you later, boss. Thanks for the ride.”
She turns and heads toward her room, and I run a hand through my hair.
Yeah. This is a terrible fucking idea.
The bar is alive with music, laughter, and the smell of food in the air. The dim lighting gives the place a warm glow, the jukebox humming an old country tune while pool balls clack in the corner. It’s busier than usual for a Friday night, and the bar, locals, and tourists blend together over drinks and the promise of a good time.
I stand behind the bar, watching Red effortlessly pour drinks and handle the growing crowd. She’s a firecracker, all sharp edges, and quick wit, and it turns out she’s been bartending just as long as I have.
After watching her tonight, I know she can hold her own with rowdy customers and handle herself just fine. No doubt.
But tonight, trouble walked through the doors looking for her.
Two out-of-towners, rough around the edges, have been running their mouths, pushing limits, testing boundaries. I’ve been watching them from the start, but I also discovered that Red doesn’t enjoy being babysat. Nobody would.
Right now, she was proving exactly why she didn’t need it.
“Come on, sweetheart,” one man, a burly guy with greasy hair and a beer belly, slurred, leaning over the bar towards her. “Ain’t no harm in a little smile. Bet you’d look real nice if you loosened up for me.”
Red doesn’t miss a beat, setting down a fresh whiskey glass with a hard clink. “Back the hell off.”
The second man, a wiry guy with mean eyes, chuckles as he nudges his buddy. “Feisty one, huh? I like a woman with a little bite.”
My body goes rigid, and I straighten from where I’m wiping down the bar. I can tell Red can handle herself, but the way these guys leer at her has my fists twitching.
Red, however, doesn’t even blink.
She leans forward, planting both hands on the bar, her voice dropping to something low and sharp as a knife’s edge.
“Listen, boys. If you want another drink, I’ll pour it. If you want to keep running your mouths, I’ll shut them for you. Your choice. ”
The first man sneers, glancing at his buddy. “Oh yeah? And what’re you gonna do, sweetheart?”
Red smiles. The slow, dangerous smile that makes me even pause.
Oh shit. I really don’t want to go to jail tonight for beating these fuckers’ asses.
“I’m gonna throw your sorry asses out myself,” she says easily.
The first man scoffs. “Like hell, you are?—”
He doesn’t even get the rest of the sentence out before Red grabs his half-full beer bottle and slams it against the bar, shattering the glass right next to his hand.
The entire bar goes silent.
Red doesn’t even flinch as shards of glass skitter across the counter.
“You were saying?” she asks, arching a brow.
The second guy shoots out of his seat, his chair scraping against the floor. “You crazy bi?—”
Red is faster.
Before he can move, she reaches over the bar, grabs him by the collar, and yanks him forward, planting his face flat against the sticky wooden surface.
The bar erupts into cheers and laughter, regulars banging on their tables, hooting as Red keeps the guy pinned with one hand.
“You done?” she asks him, voice dead calm.
He mutters something unintelligible.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
She lets go and steps back, dusting off her hands like she’s just taken out the trash.
“Now, unless you want to get familiar with the floor, I suggest you and your friend get out.”
The burly guy scrambles off his stool, grabbing his buddy, and both men stumble toward the door with their tails between their legs.
The second they’re out, the bar erupts in cheers.
Sitting at the corner booth with Poppy, Cami let out a whistle. “Goddamn, Red, I think I just fell in love a little.”
Poppy raised her beer. “To Red, badass bartender of the century. Walker, I hope you took notes.”
Oh, I took notes. I was ready to step in at any moment, but she never needed it. She had it under control just fine.
Red shakes her head, smirking as she reaches under the bar for a broom. “Dumbasses never learn.”
I lean against the back counter, watching her with an amused expression. “Remind me never to piss you off.”
She grins, winking at me. “Trust me, Walker, you couldn’t handle it.”
And just like that, the bar returns to normal—like nothing had happened.
After the dust settles and the rowdy cheers die down, the bar returns to its usual rhythm—glasses clinking, low murmurs of conversation, the occasional bursts of laughter.
I pour drinks as Red casually sweeps up the broken glass like she didn’t just handle two drunk idiots without breaking a sweat.
I’m not surprised—I figured she was tough. But tonight? Tonight, I saw something different.
Maybe it was how she’d kept her cool, never flinching, never once looking to me for backup. Maybe it was the way she had the entire damn bar eating out of her palm without even trying.
Or maybe—maybe it was that she reminded me of myself.
She never backed down. She never asked for help. And she sure as hell didn’t let anyone tell her what to do.
Just like me.
I exhale, running a hand down my jaw .
I’d always thought I was the only one around here who built walls high enough to keep people out. Turns out, Red has her own fortress.
And now, I watch her crack a joke with one of the regulars, leaning on the broom like she didn’t just throw two men out on their asses. I wonder what kind of story she isn’t telling.
Because I know one thing is for damn sure—women build walls like that for a reason.
Something built that fire inside her. Something taught her how to fight.
And suddenly, I’m curious as hell to know what it was.