Chapter 10
10
Walker
As my boots tapped along the concrete path to Caroline’s front door, I couldn’t help but feel like a bull at its first rodeo. This was just another date, I told myself, trying to ignore that it was anything but your regular night out. My palms, usually as steady and dry as an old oak, were downright traitorous with their clamminess.
“Get a fucking grip,” I muttered under my breath, adjusting the brim of my hat for the umpteenth time. The nervous anticipation gnawing at me was a foreign sensation, one I didn’t take kindly to. It wasn’t even a real date, for crying out loud. Just a ruse to help Caroline get her dating legs and, selfishly, maybe show my family I could lead something more than a two-step at the local bar.
Maybe that was the reason for this nervousness. I was doing something new, is all.
I tapped on the door, the sound echoing in the quiet of the early evening. The door swung open, and I swear, time slowed down. There stood Caroline, beautiful as a mountain sunset, in a simple baby blue sun dress that fell just right. I’ve seen my fair share of dolled-up women, sure, but nothing quite prepared me for this. Her auburn hair cascaded around her shoulders like autumn leaves caught in a gentle breeze, and those green eyes—clear as a wellspring—caught mine with an earnestness I hadn’t expected.
“Hi, Walker,” she said, her smile lighting up the porch like it had its own kind of sunshine.
“Caroline,” I managed to say, once I found my voice. It felt like I had to lasso it back from wherever it had bolted off to. “You look . . . wow, you look amazing.”
Her cheeks flushed a soft pink, and she laughed lightly—a sound that set my nerves at ease. “Thank you. You clean up pretty nice yourself.”
I glanced down at my attire, your standard issue jeans and black tee topped off with a starched shirt—hardly black-tie material, but it was my ‘nice’ pair of jeans, the one without any holes or stains. “Thanks,” I said, tipping my hat back slightly, feeling a smidge more confident. “Shall we?”
“Let’s,” she replied, stepping out onto the porch, closing the door behind her.
I led the way to my truck, thinking that if this fake date was going to be the start of something—an adventure, a new division on the ranch, or just proving I could be responsible—it was already shaping up to be one memorable ride.
We ambled down the path, our steps synchronized in an easy rhythm as if we’d done this a hundred times before.
“Nice evening,” I ventured, aiming for casual but feeling like a calf on new legs.
“Beautiful,” Caroline agreed, looking up at the sky painted with strokes of pinks and purples as the sun dipped below the horizon. “I’ve always loved the sunsets here.”
“Nothing quite like it,” I said, nodding. The truth was, no matter how many times I’d seen the sun set over the fields of the ranch, it never got old. It was one of those constants in life, like the changing seasons or the way a good horse could sense your mood.
Reaching my truck, I stepped ahead and swung the passenger door open for her. It was an old habit, ingrained from years of watching my pa treat my mama like a queen. “After you, ma’am.”
“Such a gentleman,” she teased, the curve of her lips softening the edges of the day’s weariness.
“Only the best for our first . . . uh, pseudo-date.” I chuckled, feeling the word ‘date’ hang awkwardly in the air between us.
She climbed into the cab with the grace of someone who’d spent more time in heels than cowboy boots, and I couldn’t help but admire the way she navigated both worlds. Closing the door behind her, I rounded the front of the truck, the low rumble of the engine a soothing backdrop to the quickening beat of my heart.
“Whistle Stop Diner?” I asked as I settled into the driver’s seat, turning to face her. “I know it ain’t fancy, but it’ll get us seen, and we both like it.
“Perfect,” Caroline confirmed, her hands folded neatly in her lap. “Their chicken pot pie is the stuff of legends.”
“Chicken pot pie, it is,” I replied, shifting the truck into drive. The road stretched out before us, lined with the sleepy storefronts of Main Street that had watched over generations of townsfolk.
As we drove toward the diner, I found myself caught between the past and the future—the legacy of the Anderson family ranch pressing against the dreams I had for its expansion. My ideas seemed so possible when I let myself think about it without the weight of Gray’s disapproval hanging over me .
“Your plans for the ranch sound exciting,” Caroline said, as if reading my thoughts. “It’s important to have dreams, Walker.”
“Thanks, Caroline. It means a lot coming from you,” I admitted, stealing a glance her way. “You’ve built something pretty impressive yourself, taking over your father’s practice.”
“Hard work pays off,” she said, a touch of pride lacing her words. “But it’s not just about the work; it’s about the people you’re doing it for.”
“Couldn’t agree more,” I said, the corner of my mouth lifting into a half-smile. Our eyes met for a moment, and there was a flicker of something—a shared understanding, perhaps.
Pulling into the diner’s parking lot, the warm glow of neon beckoned us inside. It was the kind of place where memories were made over plates of home-cooked meals, where laughter mingled with the clatter of cutlery. It felt right to be here with Caroline, even if it was all just for show.
“Ready to face the music?” I joked, cutting the engine.
“Lead the way, cowboy,” she replied with a grin that could outshine the diner’s neon sign any day.
I reached across the console to grab my hat, settling it on my head as we stepped into the twilight. Walking through the Whistle Stop Diner’s doors, the familiar jingle of the entry bell chimed like a welcoming committee. Marge, with her ever-present apron and a smile that seemed to crinkle her whole face, caught sight of us immediately.
“Evening, Walker! Caroline!” she called out, waving us over. “What a nice surprise, seeing you two out together,” she said with a cat-that-ate-the-canary grin. “Got the perfect spot for you two right by the window.”
“Thanks, Marge,” I said, tipping my hat in her direction as we followed her past the counter lined with red vinyl stools .
“Oh, anytime,” she replied, chuckling, her eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief.
We slid into the booth she’d pointed out, the one that gave us a clear view of Main Street, painted gold by the setting sun. The booths were empty around ours, giving a sense of privacy despite being in the heart of town.
“Nice view,” Caroline commented, glancing out at the quiet thoroughfare.
“Best in the house,” I agreed, relaxing back against the worn leather seat. The street outside was peaceful, but inside my chest, there was a sort of anticipation brewing—a strange mix of excitement and unease.
“Think anyone’s gonna buy it?” I asked, nodding toward the window. “Us, I mean.”
Caroline’s green eyes met mine, a flicker of vulnerability showing before she masked it with a soft laugh. “Well, it’ll certainly surprise folks. I’m pretty sure the last date I had in this town was to prom, and that was just Billy Brown doing my dad a favor.”
“Prom, huh?” I leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Guess I’ve got some big shoes to fill then.”
“Let’s just hope they’re not expecting a corsage and awkward slow dancing,” she quipped, tucking a strand of her auburn hair behind her ear.
I chuckled, the sound feeling more genuine than I’d expected. “I think we can manage to skip that part. Just gotta keep it natural, act like we’ve done this a hundred times.”
“Natural,” she repeated, mulling over the word. “Right. Because pretending to date the town playboy is the most natural thing in the world for me.”
“Hey now, who says you’re still that shy girl from high school?” I teased. “And for the record, I’m not that same guy either. We’ve both got responsibilities now—more than just ourselves to think about.”
“True,” Caroline conceded, her gaze steady. “You haven’t really been showcasing any of that wild streak lately. Guess it isn’t really conducive to hard work and legacy.”
“Exactly.” Nodding, I felt a certain pride swell in my chest that at least someone had noticed a difference in me. This wasn’t just about proving something to the townsfolk or to my brother and mom. It was also about showing myself that I could be someone worthy of respect, someone who could take on a legacy and not just coast along.
“Besides, we’re not really lying,” I added, the words slipping out before I could stop them. “I mean, we are here together, aren’t we? Having dinner, enjoying each other’s company . . . ”
“Creating a little suspense for our fellow diners,” Caroline finished, a playful glint in her eye.
“Exactly,” I echoed once more, grinning despite the odd tightness in my chest. “Let’s give ‘em something to talk about.”
Marge came over with her pad in hand, the click of her pen punctuating the comfortable hum of the diner. “What can I get for you two tonight?” she asked, her eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief.
“Evening, Marge,” I greeted, scanning the menu even though I already knew it by heart. “I’ll have chicken fried steak, and Caroline will take the chicken pot pie, right?”
“Right,” Caroline confirmed, a small smile at my remembering her favorite.
“Good choices,” Marge nodded approvingly, scribbling down our order. Then she leaned in just a touch closer, lowering her voice as if sharing some town secret. “You know, I’ve got a sixth sense for these things, and I gotta say, there’s something special brewing between you two. ”
I could feel my cheeks heat up under her knowing gaze. “Oh, Marge,” I chuckled, trying to brush off her comment while hoping my face wasn’t betraying me. “That’s just your matchmaker side talking.”
“Could be,” she said, winking at us before heading back to the kitchen.
I let out a breath and glanced around, noticing that we weren’t as unobserved as I’d thought. A few of the regulars were stealing glances our way, and I caught snippets of hushed conversations that seemed to rise and fall with our movements. It felt like the whole diner had suddenly tuned into the ‘Walker and Caroline Show’.
“Looks like we’re not going unnoticed,” Caroline murmured, her eyes darting nervously to the other tables.
“Then let’s not pretend.” Before I could second-guess the impulse, I reached across the table and took her hand, lifting it gently to my lips. The softness of her skin against mine made something stir deep inside, something unexpected and unsettling.
Her eyes went wide, surprise flickering in their depths before she looked down, her cheeks blooming with color. It was endearing, that blush, and I couldn’t help but tease, “Now, what’s this? Dr. Caroline, you blushing? You sure you haven’t done this before?”
“Shut up, Walker,” she muttered, but her lips twitched in a reluctant smile. Her hand remained in mine, though, and that was a victory all its own.
“See? Natural,” I whispered, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. And for a moment, amidst the clatter of silverware and the soft murmur of the Whistle Stop Diner, I let myself believe it really was.
Fifteen minutes later, our food was served and I couldn’t pretend I wasn’t hungry at the incredible scent it gave off. I forked a piece of the chicken-fried steak into my mouth, the crisp breading and tender meat a familiar comfort.
“You know, the ranch ain’t just a place to work. It’s like its own living creature,” I said, leaning back against the worn leather of the booth. The neon sign from across the street cast a warm glow over Caroline’s features as she listened.
“Out there, with the horses, it’s more than a job. It’s . . . peace, I guess. When you’re breaking in a colt, getting him to trust you, it’s like nothing else matters.” My voice trailed off, and I couldn’t help but chuckle at myself. “Listen to me, going all sentimental.”
Caroline tilted her head, her hair cascading over one shoulder, and her green eyes held a spark of genuine interest. “I love hearing about it. The way you talk about the land, the animals . . . it’s clear you have a real connection to it all.”
I scratched the back of my neck, feeling a bit sheepish under her gaze. “It’s in my blood, I reckon. Granddad used to say that land is like family. You take care of it, and it takes care of you.”
Her lips curved into a soft smile, and she leaned forward, her elbows resting on the table. “Do you ever think about what it would be like to run the whole operation?”
“Every day,” I admitted, pushing around a stray green bean with my fork. “I think about what it would be like, but I wouldn’t want that if my life depended on it,” I added with a laugh. “Gray—as much of an asshole as he is—he does great handling such a big job. I don’t know that I could do all that. But create my own division? Focus on something specific that would help people, more than just us? Now that’s what my heart is callin’ for. And I reckon it’s something I can do a good job at, too.”
She nodded thoughtfully, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, an action I was quickly associating as purely Caroline, that inexplicably snagged my attention.
“You want to build something lasting, don’t you?” she asked. “To leave your mark?”
“Exactly,” I said, feeling a kinship with her in that moment, a shared understanding of legacy and hard work.
“Sounds like you’ve given this a lot of thought.” Her gaze lingered on mine, and I could see the wheels turning in her head.
“More than most people know,” I replied, taking another bite of my meal, but my appetite had shifted from the plate in front of me to the conversation we were having. I wanted to tell her everything, to lay out my dreams and fears right there on that checkered tablecloth.
“Tell me more,” she urged, and so I did. I talked about the early mornings, the way the sunrise painted the sky over the fields, about the satisfaction of a hard day’s work.
As I spoke, Caroline’s focus never wavered. She laughed at the right times, her eyes dancing with amusement, and when I mentioned the time I got thrown into a water trough by a particularly ornery mare, she covered her mouth to stifle a giggle.
“Seems like life on the ranch isn’t short on excitement,” she said, once the laughter had subsided.
“Excitement, drama, and a whole lot of dirt,” I quipped, and we both chuckled.
For a moment, just a heartbeat really, the rest of the diner faded away, and it was just us, sharing stories and dreams. And despite the charade we were playing, something about this felt real, felt right. Maybe it was the way she looked at me when I talked about the things I loved, or maybe it was the simple pleasure of being heard.
“Thank you for sharing that with me, Walker,” she said softly, her voice carrying the weight of sincerity.
“Anytime, darlin’,” I replied with a grin, feeling a warmth spread through me that had nothing to do with the food.
I watched Caroline’s fingers nervously dance along the edge of her napkin, and I couldn’t help but break into a mischievous grin. “You know, for someone who claims to be rusty at this whole dating scene, you’re throwing some pretty clear signals my way.”
“Signals?” Her eyebrows arched in shocked innocence, green eyes wide.
“Touching your hair, leaning in when I talk—I mean, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say Doc Cressley is attempting to flirt with me.” The teasing lilt in my voice was matched by the warmth in my gaze.
A blush spread across her cheeks as sweet as the cherry pie Marge baked on Sundays. “Oh, hush. I’m just trying to play my part convincingly,” she protested, but a smile tugged at the corners of her lips.
“Convincingly? Caroline, you’re doing great. Better than great, actually.” I leaned back in the booth, the worn leather creaking under my weight. “You’ve got the whole diner convinced we’re a couple head over heels for each other.”
“Really? You think?” She chuckled, the sound as light as a mountain breeze. And just like that, the tension melted away from her shoulders, replaced by an ease that made the evening feel like more than just a farce.
“I do,” I confirmed, nodding solemnly before cracking a smile. “You’re a natural when you stop thinkin’ so hard about it.”
“Well, you make it easy to relax, I guess. ”
“I guess it’s a gift when I’m in good company.” I watched as Caroline savored a bite of her pot pie. She smiled in ecstasy as she chewed and something about that had my chest pounding.
“Oh, it’s not just the company. You’re the natural one,” she teased, pointing her fork at me.
“Maybe,” I admitted. The feeling in my chest spread into a strange warmth in the glow of her attention. “But I reckon it’s mostly the company.”
The rest of the meal passed in a blur of easy conversation and laughter. There were moments when I caught myself staring at her, taking in the way the dim light played off her hair, showcasing the shades of gold, red, and brown. Or how her eyes sparkled when she spoke about her plans for the practice. The pride in her voice, the dreams she held close—it reminded me of my own hopes. We had both inherited something bigger than us, but wanted to craft and shape our legacies.
The idea that Caroline Cressley and I would have so much in common would have been laughable to my eighteen year old self. Now, it was a comfort.
I reached for the check the moment Marge dropped it off, tucking it under my arm like I was guarding a prized calf from a coyote. Caroline eyed the white paper slip, her lips quirking up in that half-smile that told me she was about to argue.
“Let me,” she started, hand hovering over mine, but I shook my head with a chuckle.
“Caroline, darlin’,” I drawled, feeling the smirk tug at the corner of my mouth. “In these parts, a gentleman always pays on the first date. He should pay for all the dates, in my estimation, but we’ll leave that for another time.”
“That doesn’t seem realistic.”
“This isn’t real,” I whispered. But it felt like a betrayal.
Caroline’s face blanched for the smallest second and I felt like an ass. But she recovered quickly. “All the more reason to let me take care of the check. Or at least split it. You’re helping me.”
“We’re helping each other, remember? And real or not, you’re gonna let me do this.”
She relented with a laugh, leaning back into the booth and folding her arms. “Alright. You win this round.”
“Good,” I said, already pulling out my wallet. “Because I plan on winning them all.”
Marge returned, and I handed the bill back with enough cash to cover dinner and a generous tip. It wasn’t just about impressing Caroline; it was about respecting the hard work Marge put into this place. The diner was like a second home to many here, me included, and it deserved every penny and then some.
I led Caroline to the door, putting my hand on the small of her back again to gently guide her before I’d even realized I’d done it.
We stepped outside into the crisp evening air, the sky painted with stars like scattered grains of wheat across a vast, dark field. Caroline wrapped her arms around herself against the chill, and I pulled her into my side to defend against the cold. This was a fake date, sure, but I was a gentleman at heart.
“Thanks for dinner,” she said as we reached my truck, the gravel crunching under my boots. “You really didn’t have to go to all that trouble.”
“Trouble?” I echoed, opening the passenger side for her. “With company like yours, there’s no place I’d rather be.”
Her cheeks flushed prettier than a sunset, and I knew I scored a point somewhere deep down. I helped her up into the seat before rounding the truck to slide into my own.
The drive back to Caroline’s house was quiet, comfortable. We were two people, just enjoying the silence and the slow roll of the landscape passing by. When we pulled up to her house, I turned the car off and she hesitated, her hand on the door handle.
“Since it’s a fake date, you don’t have to walk me to the door,” she pointed out, though her eyes said maybe she wanted me to.
“Caroline,” I said, pocketing the keys. “Fake date or not, my mama raised me better than that.” I got out and jogged around to her side again, offering my hand. “You need to get used to these things because this is the stuff you should look for when dating. If a man doesn’t do somethin’ this simple, he isn’t worth your time.”
“Right. Okay. He should walk me to my door.” She shut her eyes as if committing the note to memory in a mental notebook.
“Besides, what kind of a story would your neighbors have for the town if I didn’t?”
Her laughter was like music, easy and light, as she took my hand and we walked up to her doorstep together. It felt good, too good for something that wasn’t supposed to be real. But I pushed that thought aside, focusing instead on the softness of her palm in mine, on the creak of the wooden steps beneath our weight, and on the way the porch light cast a golden halo around her hair.
“Tonight was . . . ” She paused, searching for the right word.
“Surprising?” I offered, leaning casually against her porch railing.
“Exactly,” she agreed with a nod. “Thank you, Walker.”
I tipped my hat in response, then decided to go for it. She wanted my help with physical things. We’d have to jump in the deep end sooner or later, so it may as well be tonight.
“Alright, for educational purposes,” I began, my voice steady even as my pulse thrummed with a rhythm as wild as a stallion’s gallop. “A goodnight kiss is all about the right touch and timing. ”
Caroline’s eyes, those deep pools of green that had somehow started to feel familiar, held mine. She nodded, her breath catching just slightly. I wondered if she could hear the undercurrent of something more serious in my voice—a hint of the responsibility I felt not just to teach, but to protect.
I raised my hand, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face, letting my fingers trail down to cradle her jawline gently. My other hand found its way to her waist, resting there but not pressing, just enough to guide her closer without demanding it. The scent of her perfume was subtle, like wildflowers after rain, and it made me want to close my eyes and breathe it in. But I didn’t. I kept my gaze locked on hers, searching for any sign of hesitation.
“Lean in slow,” I instructed, doing just that. “And then . . . ”
The moment our lips met, it was like the calm before the storm broke into a frenzy. There was a spark, an undeniable surge of electricity that jolted through me with such force it near knocked the wind out of my sails. Her lips were soft, yielding against mine, and for a split second, I forgot we were standing on her porch, pretending.
We both pulled back sharply, the night air cool against where our skin had touched. Caroline cleared her throat, a blush staining her cheeks.
“That was good. Thank you. Next time,” she said, her voice a mix of embarrassment and a newfound boldness, “we’ll have to make sure the session is private so we can advance.”
“Right,” I managed, trying to find my footing again. “Private.”
She smiled, one corner of her mouth lifting in a way that told me she was starting to enjoy this game between us. With a nod, she turned and slipped inside her house, leaving me alone on the porch with the echo of that electrifying kiss.
The door closed with a soft click, and I stood there for a long moment, staring at the wooden grain, my mind racing. Maybe it was the shock of the unexpected connection or the weight of the reasons we were helping each other . . . but something had shifted.
I tipped my hat, though she couldn’t see me, a gesture of respect to the night, to her, and to whatever crazy path I’d started to walk down. Then I turned and headed down the steps, my boots thudding solidly against the wood, grounding me back in reality.
But hell if I wouldn’t think about that kiss all night.