20. Violet
Chapter 20
Violet
I can still feel his kiss lingering on my lips from last night.
Even now, long after, my lips still tingle from the feel of his mouth on mine. Soft and demanding. Rough and tender.
God help me, I'm trying to be his friend. But friends don't kiss each other like that. Friends don't have the kind of chemistry we have.Even I can’t deny it. It’s the strongest attraction I’ve ever had to a man. I can’t explain it. I’ve never felt this way before with anyone.
I press my fingers to my lips, like I can somehow press the memory deeper into my skin.
I should’ve known and should’ve seen it coming. The way he watches me when he thinks I don’t notice. The way he shows up without asking, always there, always steady. The way my chest tightens every time he says my name.
And then that kiss.
His hand, warm and sure, sliding to the back of my neck like it belonged there. The scrape of his thumb along my jaw, gentle but possessive. The way he tilted his head just before his lips met mine, like he was giving me one last second to stop him .
I didn’t.
I couldn’t.
Because the second his mouth touched mine, I forgot how to breathe.
There was just him. His taste—whiskey and something darker. His scent—leather, smoke, and Walker. His body, strong and solid against mine, like gravity finally figured out where I belonged.
And when he deepened the kiss—when his hand tightened in my hair and his breath hitched in that low, desperate way?—
I melted.
God, I’m in trouble.
Because I wasn’t supposed to feel this. Not like this. Not with him.
But here I am, my body still craving his like a compass desperate to find north.
I close my eyes, and there he is again.
Walker.
With his easy smile, his ridiculous banter, and the kindest damn heart I’ve ever known.
I tried so hard not to fall for him. I tried to just be friends like he wanted.
And then he kissed me. And I forgot about being friends with him.
The bar is packed tonight with regulars and a few out-of-towners who heard about The Black Dog from God knows where. The jukebox hums with old country, the kind of music that makes you want to sip whiskey and make bad decisions. I support both things as long as it doesn’t result in a bar fight or a mess.
I’ve been here long enough to fall into the rhythm of it all, and it’s been so much fun. Even pouring drinks, wiping down the bar, and chatting with the regulars. I’ve loved getting to know everyone in town better. Walker thinks I’m doing him a favor by helping him out. He’s doing me the real favor. I’m saving up to pay for my car repairs, which aren’t going to be cheap. Poppy had to order an expensive part that she’s waiting on.
I look up when a large bus pulls up in front of the bar. The type of bus that I’ve seen plenty of back in Nashville but is uncommon here in Bridger Falls. Like a tour bus. And at Walker’s bar. Concern fills me, and I crane my neck to look harder, curious to who it might be.
Then it gets crazier because, holy crap, Kelsie Turner just walked into The Black Dog. She stops and looks around, smiling and nodding to a few people.
The Kelsie Turner.
I freeze, bottle in midair in my hand, my brain short-circuiting. Did my two worlds collide? I’ve seen plenty of famous musicians while working on music row back in Nashville. Both singing and bartending. I'm so used to it, that I'm not much on fan girling. And in Nashville, musicians are just normal. But this is not what I expected to see tonight here in this small town in the middle of nowhere. Especially, not her.
Kelsie freaking Turner. And she’s even more stunning in person. Sure, I follow her on social media. But I don’t know her. And she sure as hell wouldn’t know me. This is completely wild.
She’s country music royalty. The woman whose songs have been played in every bar, truck, and heartbroken girl’s bedroom for over the last five years. She’s won awards and has sold-out shows. She’s nothing short of incredible.
And she’s standing right here, right now, in Walker’s bar in the middle of nowhere. I glance around, looking for the joke. Surely, this is a prank.
I blink to make sure I’m not hallucinating .
Nope. She’s still there.
She leans against the bar, her long dark hair cascading over a dark leather jacket that probably costs more than my car.
She leans over and asks, “Walker here?”
How does she know Walker? And why is she here, in his bar, asking for him? I'm so confused.
I scan the bar, expecting someone else to react, but no one does. I don’t think they realize what’s happening. Just me.
I swallow hard, my mind spinning with so many questions. These questions might not even be my business, and I have no business wondering.
Then, I clear my throat and smile. “I’ll go get him.”
My feet somehow make their way down the back hall, thankfully remembering how to walk because my brain isn’t working right now. I push open the office door without knocking.
Walker is behind his desk, focused on paperwork because, of course, he is.
He looks up, surprised to see me, as if he was lost in his work. “What do you need, Red?”
I open my mouth, but I have no idea how to say this. So, I blurt it out. “Kelsie Turner is in your bar. Like, IN YOUR BAR.”
The air goes thick. His entire body goes still. There’s an expression on his face, but I don’t understand it. Is it surprise? Is it shock? I can’t tell.
For the first time since I met him, I see Walker, unshakable, steady Walker actually shaken.
Our eyes lock.
And in that moment, I realize something I should’ve realized before now.
There is an entire world of things I don’t know about this man. Way too many dots aren’t connected. And right now, they're starting to connect.
I follow him back to the bar, my heart beating too fast.
Kelsie’s still leaning against the counter, looking completely at ease. Her eyes light up when she sees him. “Walker,” she says, like she knows him.
And then—they hug. And she whispers something into his ear. He casually pats her on the back.
It’s quick, nothing dramatic, but my stomach still twists. I don't like this.
I don’t know why.
Why is she touching him?
They continue to murmur something to each other, voices too low for me to hear, and then she tilts her head toward the door.
Walker nods. And follows her.
Out of the bar.
Onto her damn tour bus.
I stare after them, heart in my throat.
Walker.
The man who doesn’t talk about his life and is insanely private. The man who acts like his magic guitar knowledge doesn’t exist.
Just got on a tour bus with Kelsie Turner.
I turn back to the bar. I shouldn’t be jealous. I have no business being jealous.
But what the hell is going on?
It feels like hours, but it really was just a few agonizing minutes later as Walker steps off the bus.
And he’s not alone.
He’s holding a leash.
And at the end of that leash is a familiar dog with pointed black ears and warm brown eyes .
A dog I thought I’d never see again.
My best friend in the whole world.
Rip Heeler.
My throat closes. My chest tightens. Tears spring to my eyes.
No freaking way.
I must be dreaming right now. This can’t possibly be happening.
I stumble forward, barely registering my movement.
But I don’t care.
Because Rip is here.
Rip Heeler crashes into me like a storm.
His tail wags so hard his entire body moves with it, his paws pressing into my thighs as I sink to the ground, grabbing fistfuls of his fur, burying my face against his neck as he covers me with kisses and whines.
“Rip,” I whisper, wrapping my arms around him and pressing my face into his fur as he cries, having the same visceral reaction as me.
He smells and feels exactly the same. Like grass, sunshine, and all the good and familiar parts I thought I’d lost forever. My boy.
His ears twitch at my voice, and he lets out a long and soft, familiar whine, the same one he always did when he wanted to be held closer.
Like he missed me, too.
Tears slip down my cheeks as he licks my face, and I laugh through the sob, overwhelmed, unable to believe this is real.
I pull back just enough to look up at Walker, my voice shaky.
“Walker,” I breathe, still kneeling on the ground, my hands tangled in Rip’s fur. “How did you know to get my dog?”
He’s standing there, completely still, like he’s afraid to move, afraid to break whatever’s happening. His usual gruff, unreadable mask is gone. He looks like he’s watching something he didn’t know he needed to see.
Like this moment, the way I’m clutching Rip, the way I’m crying and laughing all at once is hitting him somewhere deep. Like maybe he didn’t expect this to matter so much. But it does.
His mouth parts slightly, like he wants to say something but doesn’t know what. His jaw clenches, his throat bobs with a hard swallow, his fingers flex where they hang at his sides.
And his eyes—God, his eyes.
There’s something soft in them. Something careful. Something I don’t think he means for me to see. Then he says softly, “Cami told me. He belongs with you. I reached out to a few friends to make it happen.”
My body reacts before my brain does, and before I can register what I’m doing, I wrap my arms around him in a hug, pulling him in, and burying my face in his neck. “Thank you, Walker.”
He hugs me back and pats my back, rubbing circles with his hand.
Suddenly, I realize that the bar is silent around us. Or maybe it just feels that way because my heart pounds in my ears, my breath uneven as I sink back to my knees, clutching Rip like he’s my lifeline.
Rip wiggles and whines, pressing his whole body into me like he can’t quite believe I’m real.
I know the feeling. I bury my face in his fur, letting the relief crash over me one more time. And when I finally look up, I realize I’m not the only one watching. People have stopped mid-drink, mid-conversation, their eyes locked on me and Rip and… Walker.
The whole damn bar sits watching this unfold because small towns don’t miss a thing .
They see how my shoulders shake and my hands grip Rip’s fur as if I’ll never let go.
They see Walker standing there, looking at me like he didn’t expect this to hit him the way it did.
And they see what I see—that Walker did this. He made this happen.
That somehow, some way, he brought my dog to me.
Cami is the first to speak. I didn’t even see her come in, so that tells you how wrapped up in the moment I am. She steps forward, crossing her arms, her lips twitching in a mix of amusement and something softer. “You really made this happen, Walker.”
Walker hears it but doesn’t say anything. His jaw tightens, his fingers flex at his sides, but he doesn’t deny it.
Doesn’t brush it off.
I look over at Cami and mouth the words, “Thank you.” I stand and pull her into a hug. “This means everything,” I tell her.
“It was a group effort.” Her voice is gentle, but there’s a knowing edge to it. Of course she was in on this. Cami is a fierce and loyal friend who would do anything for the people she loves.
And Walker? He just exhales sharply and looks away, like the weight of what he’s done is suddenly too much. Like maybe he didn’t expect it to feel this big.
But Cami? She just watches him, her smirk fading into something almost… proud. She doesn’t say anything else. She doesn’t have to. Because everyone in this bar already knows.
Knows that Walker isn’t the kind of man who does things halfway.
Knows that if he did this—if he went out of his way to bring Rip home—then maybe, just maybe, it means something.
Maybe, just maybe… I mean something .
And that? That thought is almost as terrifying as losing Rip in the first place.
I stand slowly, my knees shaky, Rip’s leash still in my grip. I look at Walker, and he looks right back. The air between us crackles, charged with something unspoken. Something too big for words, too real for either of us to admit.
His throat works like he wants to say something. But then—he doesn’t.
Instead, he just nods once, tight and controlled, then turns back toward the bar like it’s just another night.
Like he didn’t just change everything.
But I know better. Everyone here knows better. Because whatever this is? Whatever just happened? I'll never forget it.
This means the world to me.
The bar buzzes with energy, a crackling mix of music, laughter, and the kind of night that feels bigger than itself. But no matter how loud it gets, my mind keeps drifting to the back.
I steal moments between pouring drinks, slipping away whenever I can to check on Rip where he lounges on the dog bed in Walker’s office next to Pickles, the two of them quickly bonding now hanging out together.
Maggie brought Mack to the bar, and when I peeked into the office, I found her curled up on the couch with my dog.
She’s put on the show Bluey, grinning as she nudges Rip with her foot. “Come on, boy. You gotta watch your show.”
She is loving this. And I can’t say I blame her because Rip is the shit. I love that dog so much. He’s that once in a lifetime heart dog. The dog that stays with you in your heart forever. And he’s mine again.
Rip, ever the loyal companion, rests his head on his paws, eyes half-lidded, content as can be. His tail flicks at the sound of my voice, and the second he sees me, it thumps harder, his whole body wiggling despite his lazy sprawl.
I lean against the doorframe, my heart tight in my chest. I still can’t believe he’s here. That Walker made this happen. That after everything, I finally got my best friend back.
His eyes drift closed, completely content like he’s always belonged right here.
Something in my chest goes tight. I cup his face, whispering, “You were always mine.” His tail thumps in agreement as I make my way back to the front to work my shift.
Kelsie Turner and her band stick around. She’s down to earth and so cool. So far, I’m too nervous to talk with her other than bring her beers and food.
They drink, play a few songs, and the whole town loses its mind. People are recording them, and I notice Walker disappeared to his office.
I watch from behind the bar, pouring drinks and dodging questions, still trying to wrap my head around what the hell just happened.
Because Walker isn’t just some grumpy small-town bar owner. I have no idea who Walker is. He knows Kelsie Turner. He somehow got my dog back.
And I have no idea what to do with any of this.
At some point, Kelsie catches me staring while they’re on break from playing. Her band is hanging out, playing darts and pool now.
And then Kelsie Turner slides onto a barstool across from me. She props her elbows on the table, watching me with a lazy kind of amusement. “So,” she says, taking a sip of her drink. “Hell of a dog you got there.”
I look up, full of gratitude for this woman. “Thank you so much for bringing him here. ”
Kelsie smirks and chuckles. “It really was my pleasure. He’s a great dog.”
I smile at her and nod, still nervous and unsure what to say.
“He is a good boy,” she says, glancing back at me. “Worth the trouble.”
I sit up straighter. “Trouble?”
She grins. A slow, knowing grin. She leans forward, lowering her voice. “Do you really want to know how we got him?”
My pulse picks up. “Yes.”
Kelsie chuckles, shaking her head. “Alright, then. Here’s how it went down.”
I lean in closer.
“You ever met Will’s kid?” she asks.
I shake my head. “I don’t know who Will is.”
Kelsie grins. “Will Maren, my manager. Anyway, Will has a daughter, Harper, in college, in Nashville.”
Will Maren? Holy shit. I know who Will Maren is. One of the best managers in the industry. I’m not at all surprised that he manages Kelsie.
I blink. “What happened?”
Kelsie takes another sip of her drink, her eyes sparkling. “Well,” she says, “Harper and her boyfriend Collin decided to run a little dog-walking side hustle through one of those apps. And guess who signed up for their services?”
It hits me instantly. I gasp in surprise. “No way.”
Kelsie nods, smirking. “Yes. Your ex. He hired them to walk Rip. Never suspected a damn thing.”
I press a hand to my chest, trying to process this. “You’re telling me Will Maren’s kid stole my dog through a dog-walking app?”
Kelsie shrugs, unapologetic. “Let’s call it reunification.”
I stare at her. “How?”
She grins. “They picked up Rip for a ‘walk’ and never brought him back.”
My jaw drops.
“Oh my God,” I breathe. “That’s insane.”
Kelsie laughs, tossing her brown hair over her shoulder. “Nah. That’s called doing the right thing. I heard your ex is a piece of work.”
I glance back up at Kelsie, my brain still struggling to put all the pieces together.
“So let me get this straight,” I say, shifting in my seat. “Will’s kid stole my dog, and you brought him to Wyoming on your tour bus?”
Kelsie grins, tipping her drink toward me in a mock toast. “That about sums it up.”
I shake my head, in awe of the sheer absurdity of it. And I love it. Serves Brice right. He knew Rip was mine. Then another thought hits me like a train.
Walker made this happen.
He set this in motion.
I glance over toward the back, where Walker leans against the wall, arms crossed and watching the bar with his usual broody intensity.
Kelsie follows my gaze. Her smirk softens just a little. “Hell of a man, that one,” she murmurs.
I tear my eyes away. “Who the hell is he?”
Kelsie tilts her head, considering me. Then, with a knowing smile, she says, “Oh, sweetheart. That’s the question, isn’t it?”