Chapter 18
eighteen
New Year’s Eve.
Seven days since Christmas morning.
Seven days of careful conversations with Johanna, of “excuse me” and “after you” and pretending that awkward kiss hadn’t happened.
The cold air stung Walker’s nose as he stepped out on the porch and took a deep breath. Beside him, Cowboy sat alert, ears perked toward the driveway where headlights would appear when Boone, Jonah, and Bishop returned from town.
Last year, they’d sat right here counting down to midnight, making plans for a future that had seemed so clear. Now everything felt clouded, uncertain.
The door opened behind him, and Walker knew it was Johanna without turning. The soft tread of her boots on the wooden boards, the faint scent of vanilla and coconut that always clung to her hair.
“I brought drinks,” she said, her voice carefully neutral. “Sparkling cider. Better than last year’s.”
Walker turned, taking the offered glass. “Thanks.”
Their fingers didn’t touch during the exchange. They’d been careful about that all week.
Johanna leaned against the railing a few feet away, leaving a deliberate gap between them. Her dark hair was pulled back in its usual braid, and she wore the blue scarf she’d knitted him for Christmas. He’d given it to her earlier when he noticed her shivering.
“Should be a clear night,” she said, looking up at the stars already appearing in the darkening sky. “Good way to start a new year.”
Small talk. They’d been reduced to small talk.
“Yeah.” Walker took a sip of the cider, wishing it were something stronger. “Boone and Jonah should be back soon. Just went to pick up supplies.”
Cowboy stood and stretched, then padded over to Johanna. Unlike his owner, the puppy had no awkwardness around her. He bumped his head against her hand, demanding attention.
She smiled and scratched behind his ears. “He’s settled in nicely.”
“He has.” Walker watched them, feeling a pang in his chest. “Sleeps on the foot of my bed now. For a little guy, he snores like a chainsaw.”
Johanna laughed, and the sound loosened something tight in Walker’s chest. The first real laugh he’d heard from her in a week.
Headlights swept across the yard as Boone’s truck pulled up. Bishop’s head was visible in the passenger window, ears perked up. Jonah sat in the back seat, saying something that made Boone shake his head.
“The gang’s all here,” Johanna said.
Walker nodded, oddly grateful for the buffer the boys would provide. “Let’s get the chairs set up.”
They pulled four Adirondack chairs into a loose circle near the porch steps. Walker added another log to the metal fire pit, sparks rising into the night air as the flames caught.
Boone climbed out of the truck first, Bishop trotting at his heels. The German Shepherd made a beeline for Cowboy, the two dogs greeting each other with sniffs and tail wags.
“Beer’s in the truck,” Boone said, then caught Walker’s look. “Non-alcoholic. Don’t get your panties in a twist. I haven’t fallen off the wagon.”
Jonah followed, carrying a grocery bag. “Got some snacks, too.” He smiled a lot now, and he had a somewhat annoying habit of always looking on the bright side of every situation.
They settled into the chairs, the fire crackling between them. Bishop curled up at Boone’s feet while Cowboy played with a stick he’d found in the snow, occasionally bringing it to Walker as if to remind him they should be playing fetch instead of sitting around talking.
The conversation flowed easily. Plans for the new year: Adding more horses in the spring, and a possible partnership with the VA hospital in Missoula for equine therapy. And speculation about the former sniper, Evander Cole, who would be arriving in less than two weeks.
Walker found himself watching Johanna as she talked, her face animated, her hands gesturing as she described her vision for the therapy program. This was the woman he’d fallen for—passionate, intelligent, committed to healing others. Not the careful stranger she’d been this past week.
The clock on his phone showed 11:40 when Boone stood abruptly. “Alright, I’m calling it a night.”
“It’s not even midnight yet,” Johanna protested.
“Some of us need our beauty sleep.” Boone whistled for Bishop, who rose immediately, stretching his front legs. “Besides, I promised to show Jonah that blueprint for the new dog run before he starts making his fancy spreadsheets tomorrow.”
Jonah looked confused. “You did?”
Boone gave him a hard stare. “Yes. I did. Remember? The blueprint. In the bunkhouse.”
“Oh.” Understanding dawned on Jonah’s face. “Right. That blueprint. I should definitely see that. Tonight. Before midnight.”
Walker barely contained his eye roll. Subtle as a heart attack, these two.
“Well,” Johanna said, clearly seeing through the ruse but playing along. “I guess we’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Boone called over his shoulder as he descended the steps, Bishop at his heels.
Jonah gave them an awkward wave. “Happy New Year. If I don’t see you before midnight. Which I probably won’t. Because of the... blueprint.” He hurried after Boone, nearly tripping on the bottom step.
And then they were gone, leaving Walker and Johanna alone with only Cowboy and the crackling fire for company. The silence stretched between them, no longer comfortable, filled with so many ghosts and unsaid words.
Johanna tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You don’t think they were trying to get us alone together, do you?”
Walker snorted and took a sip of his sparkling cider. “Boone’s not known for his subtlety.”
Her laugh was soft, nervous. “No, he’s not.” She shifted in her chair, the wood creaking beneath her. The firelight caught the angles of her face, the curve of her neck. His throat went dry, and he took another long drink of cider, nearly finishing the glass.
“So,” Johanna said, after a long, awkward pause. She looked down at her hands, her gloved fingers tightening around her glass. “About Christmas morning…”
His heart suddenly went all jackhammer against his ribs. A week of dancing around each other, and she’d finally said it out loud.
“Yeah,” he managed. “About that.”
She looked up, meeting his eyes directly for the first time in days. “That was...”
“A disaster,” Walker finished for her.
The corner of her mouth twitched. “I was going to say ‘awkward,’ but disaster works too.”
“I think I may have chipped your tooth.”
A laugh burst from her. “No, but you did pull my hair. And not in a good way.”
“And I’m pretty sure I stepped on your foot.”
“You did!” Her laughter grew, shoulders shaking. “I have a bruise!”
The vise around Walker’s chest loosened at the sound. He found himself chuckling too, the absurdity of it all suddenly hitting him. “Jesus, that was a terrible kiss.”
“The worst,” she agreed, wiping at her eyes. “Absolutely the worst kiss in human history. I’ve been avoiding you all week because of that train wreck.”
“Me too.” Walker rubbed the back of his neck. “Wasn’t sure what to say. ‘Sorry I attacked your face’ didn’t seem right.”
She snorted, an undignified sound, which only made her laugh harder. Walker joined in, relief flooding through him.
When their laughter finally subsided, Johanna looked at him thoughtfully. “It’s a shame, really.”
“What is?”
“That kiss.” She tucked her legs underneath her in the chair. “I’ve been wondering...”
His mouth went dry again, and his glass was empty. “Wondering what?”
“If it was that bad because there’s actually nothing between us anymore,” she said slowly, “or if it was just panic and bad timing.”
The fire crackled in the silence that followed. Cowboy had lost interest in their conversation and was now snuffling through the snow.
“What do you think?” Walker asked, afraid to hope.
She bit her lower lip, considering. “I think,” she said finally, “that we should try again. Just to know.”
“Now?”
“Unless you don’t want to.”
“No, I...” He took a breath. “I want to.”
Johanna stood and crossed the short distance between their chairs. Walker rose to meet her, his legs unsteady beneath him. She stopped just inches away, close enough that he could feel the warmth of her breath.
“No pressure,” she whispered. “Just... let’s see.”
He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He lifted one hand slowly, giving her time to pull back if she wanted to. When she didn’t, he gently cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing across her skin.
This time, he didn’t rush. This time, he tilted his head just so, making sure their noses wouldn’t bump. This time, when his lips met hers, it was soft, careful, a question rather than a demand.
She sighed against his mouth, her hand coming up to rest on his chest. Her lips were warm despite the cold night, and she tasted faintly of apples from the cider.
She made a needy sound in the back of her throat, and her fingers curled into the fabric of his jacket, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss.
His free hand found her waist, steadying them both.
The fire popped and crackled behind them, wood smoke mingling with the sweet scent of her, filling his head. Cowboy barked once, then settled down again. The world fell away as they kissed beneath the Montana sky, under a million stars.
She parted her lips, inviting him in. His hand slid from her waist to the small of her back, drawing her against him until there was no space left between them.
She made another soft sound—half sigh, half moan—that vibrated through his chest and settled low in his belly.
Her fingers threaded into his hair, knocking the hat off his head, tugging gently as she angled her head to deepen the connection.
Time seemed to stretch and slow. His world narrowed to the soft press of her mouth, the gentle brush of her tongue against his, the warmth of her body against his in the winter chill.
Walker lost himself in the sensation, the feel of her curves pressed against his chest, the way she seemed to melt into him with each passing second.
His hand moved up her spine, fingers tracing each vertebra until they reached the nape of her neck where her braid began.
He cradled her head, tilting it back slightly as he explored the warmth of her mouth, tasting cider and something uniquely Johanna that he’d tried and failed to forget for five years.
She sighed against his lips, her tongue meeting his in a slow, dance that sent heat coursing through his veins despite the frigid night air. Her hands moved from his hair to his shoulders, then down his chest, fingers splaying wide as if trying to memorize him through layers of clothing.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Walker rested his forehead against hers, unwilling to move away completely. Her eyes remained closed, dark lashes fanned against flushed cheeks, lips slightly parted and swollen from his kisses.
“Well,” she whispered, her breath forming a small cloud between them, “I think we can safely say that wasn’t terrible.”
Walker chuckled, the sound low and rough. “No. Definitely not terrible.”
She opened her eyes then, looking up at him with an expression so vulnerable it made his chest ache.
“Walker, I—” Her voice caught. “I love you. I think I have for a long time now.”
His heart soared at the words, but the pain in her eyes made him hesitate. “I’m sensing a ‘but’ coming.”
“But I’m scared.” She glanced away. “What we’ve built here, at Valor Ridge. It matters. It really matters. And if we tried this and it didn’t work...” She shook her head. “I couldn’t bear to lose it. To lose you.”
He covered her hand with his own, feeling her warmth through his shirt. “You wouldn’t lose me.”
“You say that now.” Her voice caught. “But relationships end. People leave. People die.”
Nick. Her husband. The unspoken presence between them for years.
“I loved Nick deeply at one time,” she continued. “And losing him the way I did nearly destroyed me. If something happened to you...” She swallowed hard and smoothed her hands down his chest. “I’m not ready, Walker. I want to be, but I’m not.”
The admission hurt, but less than he’d expected. There was truth in it, and truth he could work with.
“How long do you need?”
She blinked, clearly surprised by the question. “I-I don’t know. I can’t promise you a timeline.”
“I’m not asking for one. Take the time you need. I’ll be here when you’re ready.”
“You can’t know that.”
“Yes, I can.” He took both her hands in his. “Jo, I’ve been in love with you since that first day in group therapy when you called me a stubborn ass for skipping my medication.”
The memory brought a small smile to her face.
“That was six years ago.” He cupped her face in his hands. “If I haven’t gotten over you yet, I’m not going to.”
She stared up at him, searching his face. “You’d really wait? Not knowing how long?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Walker considered the question, trying to find words for something that felt as fundamental as breathing. “Because you’re it for me,” he said finally. “Because whatever we build here, whatever Valor Ridge becomes, none of it means anything without you here with me.”
Tears filled her eyes. “Walker...”
“I’m not asking you for anything you can’t give,” he said quickly. “However long it takes, if I have to wait until I’m ninety, I’ll still be here.”
Johanna leaned into him then, her head finding the hollow of his shoulder as if it had always belonged there. Walker wrapped his arm around her, holding her close, breathing in the scent of her hair.
The fire had burned down to embers, casting a soft glow over the porch. In the distance, they could hear the faint pop of fireworks from town, people celebrating the coming year. Cowboy squirmed in between them, settling on their boots with a big puppy sigh.
“Thank you,” Johanna whispered against his chest. “For understanding.”
Walker pressed his lips to the top of her head. “Always.”