Chapter 12
12
Walker
On Friday evening, I found myself standing on Caroline’s porch, unable to shake off the peculiar jittery feeling that had camped out in my chest. Funny thing is, nerves and Walker Anderson didn’t usually keep company together, especially not with women. But there I was, fidgeting with the brim of my hat, trying to figure out why seeing Caroline felt like I was about to break a wild mustang.
I gave a quick rap on the door—a rhythmic tap-tap-tap that seemed loud on the quiet street. My fingers drummed against my thigh, callused from years of roping and riding, as I waited for her to answer. This was no ordinary hook-up; this was Caroline Cressley, the sweet, shy bookworm who’d gone off to the big city and come back better for it. And here I was, set to teach her something more personal than any riding lesson I’d ever given.
The idea that she needed lessons in the first place was wild. Sure, I could maybe believe the socially awkward Caroline from high school didn’t have much experience. But this Caroline? The confident doctor who had style and grace?
The fact that she still felt so unsure of herself when it came to the opposite sex surprised the hell out of me. And gave me an irrational anger that had me wanting to track down any man she’d ever had a bad encounter with and beat some sense into them. Did they not see how sweet she was? How enticing?
How the hell had she never been swept off her feet?
Before I could further ponder the absurdity, the door swung open, and there she stood, her auburn hair catching the last of the evening light. “Hey, Walker,” she greeted, a hint of my same nervousness mirrored in her green eyes.
“Evenin’, Caroline,” I managed, stepping into her foyer, the warmth of her house contrasting the cool spring evening.
“Your place is nice,” I said, which was an understatement.
The foyer was grand, with high ceilings adorned by an elegant chandelier that cast a warm glow over the polished wooden floor. The walls were painted in a soft blue, with intricate molding framing several paintings of pastoral landscapes.
To the left, a graceful staircase curved upward, its banister carved with delicate floral patterns. The steps themselves were worn in the center from years of use, a testament to the life that had unfolded within these walls.
“Thanks. I’m finally getting around to decorating, but most of it was done before I moved in.”
She led me to the living room on the right, a room painted in a deep yellow. I’d never thought to paint a room yellow before, but the color looked like it was made especially for this space.
We sat across from each other, me on the edge of an overstuffed armchair that looked like it belonged in one of those fancy catalogs, and Caroline perched primly on her sofa. The space between us was all at once too close and too distant, charged with something I hadn’t expected.
“Okay, so how do we do this?” Caroline asked, her voice steady but her fingers twisting in her lap.
“Caroline, relax. It’s like riding a horse; you gotta feel it out as you go. Too much thinking will just throw you off balance.” I leaned forward, elbows on knees, trying to bridge the space with some easygoing charm. “Trust me.”
“But that’s just it, Walker. I don’t ride horses. My brain—it works best with structure, plans. I need to understand the steps before I can . . . perform them,” she explained, her gaze earnest.
“Listen,” I said, trying to ease her into my way of thinking without spooking her, “the best things in life ain’t about following instructions from a book. You’ve got to let go a little. Feel the rhythm of it.”
“Rhythm, right,” she muttered more to herself than to me, her analytical mind turning over every word. “But there’s got to be a starting point, a basic technique or?—”
“Caroline,” I interrupted gently, “you’re smart, sophisticated. You’ve got instincts. Trust them.” Maybe it was the soft pleading in my voice or the way I hoped my gaze held hers, but I needed her to see that sometimes, life—and love—required a leap of faith.
“Instincts,” she repeated, her tone shifting from doubtful to contemplative. “Alright, then. Let’s start with instincts.”
“Good choice.” I nodded, feeling a twinge of pride that she was willing to meet me halfway. “Now, let’s talk about what comes naturally to you . . . ”
Caroline’s brows furrowed as if she were struggling to grasp a concept. “What comes naturally to me?” She repeated, her lips forming the words slowly, as if tasting each syllable. It struck me then, how even in her attempts to understand the idea, she looked beautiful in her vulnerability.
“Yeah,” I replied with an easy smile, wanting to reassure her rather than overwhelm. “Just tell me what you do when you’re not thinking about it. You know, those things that feel right without second-guessing.”
She sat back against the plush cushion of her sofa, the soft yellow of the room casting a warm glow over her features. I watched as a small frown of concentration smoothed into a contemplative expression. Her eyes met mine, verdant and filled with determination.
“Helping others,” she said after a moment, her voice soft but unwavering. “Listening. Making people feel comfortable and cared for.”
I nodded, impressed by her honesty and the sincerity that shone through her words. “See, now you’re getting it,” I encouraged, leaning back in the chair with newfound ease. “That’s the real you, the Caroline that people are drawn to.”
A wave of something tender and protective washed over me then, a connection forming between us as she opened up. And for a moment, I saw beyond the confident doctor facade she wore—beneath it all was a woman who simply wanted to connect.
“That’s your foundation,” I continued, my voice softening with a rare sincerity. “You’ve got this natural way of caring for folks that shines through, no matter what.”
“You think?”
“I know. Now, that kinda thing can also be applied to dating. Even to sex. When you’re unsure where to begin, start with what comes naturally. You like to give comfort, make people feel better. Lean into that and you’ll figure out what comes next without having to think about it.
She flashed me a small, grateful smile, and the air between us seemed to warm with understanding.
“Rhythm, right?” Caroline said again, a playful twinkle sparking in her green eyes. “So are you saying there’s a rhythm to romancing someone? ”
I leaned back on the worn-out cushion and chuckled, my boots planted firmly on the floor. “Darlin’, there’s a rhythm to everything if you’re doing it right.” I winked, enjoying the lightness of our banter.
“Everything, huh?” She tilted her head, skeptically, her auburn hair cascading over one shoulder. “You make it sound like a dance.”
“Exactly!” I exclaimed, snapping my fingers for effect. “Two people moving together, figuring out the steps as they go along. Sometimes you step on each other’s toes, but that’s part of the fun.”
Caroline folded her arms, mock-serious now. “Alright, impart some more wisdom then. Tell me, what do you find attractive in a woman?”
The question caught me off guard, and suddenly the room felt warmer than before. I scratched the back of my neck, buying time to gather my thoughts. “Well, it’s not just one thing,” I started slowly, “it’s in the way she carries herself, confident but not boastful. Like she knows her worth but doesn’t need to prove it to anyone.”
“Go on,” she urged, her curiosity piqued.
“It’s in her laugh,” I continued, thinking of the sound that had just filled the room, “uninhibited, like she’s not afraid to show joy. And her eyes—when they light up about something she’s passionate about.” I glanced at her, watching her reaction closely. “It’s . . . magnetic.”
“Anything else?” she asked, leaning forward, genuinely interested.
“Sure,” I said, feeling a sudden heat rush to my face. “It’s also in the little things she does when she thinks no one’s watching—the way she tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear or how she bites her lip when she’s focused. ”
I stopped, realizing I might’ve been getting too specific, too personal. But Caroline was looking at me with that same intense interest, and it felt like we were the only two people in the world.
“Sounds like you’ve given this a lot of thought,” she noted softly.
“Maybe I have,” I admitted, shifting uncomfortably. There was a moment of silence that stretched between us, thick with unspoken words.
“Thank you, Walker,” Caroline finally said, breaking the spell. “For being honest.”
“Anytime, Doc,” I replied with a casual shrug, though my heart was racing. “Now, let’s see if we can find that rhythm you’re looking for.”
As she smiled, warmth spread through me and my chest tightened. I shifted in the chair to try to shake it off, confused as to why I was having such a visceral reaction.
Caroline pulled out her phone with an air of determination that had me raising an eyebrow. She tapped the screen a few times before holding it up like some sort of shield, her finger poised over the digital keyboard.
“Mind if I take notes?” she asked, not taking those focused eyes off me. “You’re dropping some real gems here.” She started typing before waiting for my response.
“Notes?” I chuckled, watching her tap her recap of the nuggets of wisdom she thought were spilling from my lips. “You planning on turning this into a science project, Doc?”
“Maybe,” she retorted, that analytical gleam never wavering. “There’s an art and science to everything, isn’t there? And I’m all about the empirical evidence.”
I leaned back into the worn cushions of the chair, the laughter bubbling up from deep within. The sight of her, so earnest in her approach to something as wild and unpredictable as romance and sex, somehow made her even more endearing. “Just don’t forget to cite your sources when you publish your findings, Doctor Cressley.”
“Ha-ha,” Caroline rolled her eyes playfully, but the corners of her mouth twitched upwards. “Keep talking, Anderson. Your insights are invaluable.”
“Alright then,” I said, stretching my legs out and crossing them at the ankles. “Where were we? Ah, yeah—confidence. It’s not just about knowing what you want; it’s showing it. A woman who can walk into a room and own it without saying a word? Now, that’s attractive.”
Her fingers danced over the screen, capturing every word. Seeing her so intent on learning, on improving her dating skills, hit me with a wave of affection I wasn’t prepared for. This was Caroline: brilliant, beautiful, and so damn methodical about everything she did. It was a contrast to my go-with-the-flow attitude, but hell if it didn’t make for an interesting combination.
“Confidence, got it,” she muttered to herself, then glanced up. “And how does one exhibit confidence without coming off as . . . arrogant?”
“Ah, the million-dollar question.” I tipped my hat back slightly, feeling the weight of her gaze. “It’s a fine line, darlin’. But I reckon it comes down to being comfortable in your own skin. Arrogance is loud; confidence is quiet but unmistakable.”
“Quiet but unmistakable,” she repeated, her thumbs pausing as she considered the words. Then she smiled at me, that sweet, warm smile that seemed to light up the room. “Thank you, Walker. This is . . . helpful.”
“Just remember, it’s not all about the studying. Sometimes you’ve gotta just jump in and let the heart do the talking.”
“Sounds terrifying,” she quipped, but the twinkle in her eye told me she was more excited than scared .
“Life’s one big rodeo, Caroline. Gotta grab the bull by the horns sometime.”
She laughed then, a genuine, hearty sound that filled the space between us. And for a moment, just a small one, I thought maybe, just maybe, I’d already found what I was looking for.
I watched as she tapped her phone screen with a furrowed brow. “You know,” she started, hesitating for just a heartbeat, “hearing you talk about confidence and all that stuff, it stirs up some . . . weird feelings.”
“Like what?” I asked, tipping my hat back to get a better look at her.
She sighed, setting the phone down. “Jealousy, maybe? And confusion. It’s silly, but I feel this . . . this strong reaction when I hear you talk about what attracts you to women. Like I’m competing or something. I don’t even know who I’m competing with and I’m certainly not trying to compete for your affections. I guess it’s just, confidence doesn’t come naturally to me. Oh sure, when it comes to work. But socially? Ugh. You remember me in high school. Not much has changed.”
“Caroline,” I said, my voice softening. The vulnerability in her eyes was something fierce, made me want to protect her somehow. “That ain’t silly at all. Everyone’s got their own path to tread when it comes to relationships. Yours just might have a few more books along the way is all. And you have changed. Your confidence with work shines through. You’re beautiful. Poised and graceful. Believe me, if people who saw you knew how much you were overthinking, they’d be surprised.”
Her smile was small, grateful, and I felt a tug somewhere deep inside. “It’s like I’ve been reading about life instead of living it. And now, here I am, trying to learn how to please a man from . . . well, from a man who seems to have no trouble pleasing women. ”
“Hey now,” I chided gently, my boots shifting on her carpet as I leaned forward, elbows on knees. “We’ve all got our doubts, even if we don’t show ‘em. But I’ll tell you this: confidence isn’t about knowing you’re the best; it’s about knowing you’re enough, just the way you are.”
“Enough,” she whispered, as if tasting the word on her tongue.
“Yep. And believe me, Caroline, you’re more than enough.” I reached out, nudging her knee with my hand, an attempt to bridge the gap between her uncertainty and my reassurance. “I’m not just here to help you learn some tricks of the trade. I want to help you see the amazing woman everyone else already sees.”
“Even if that woman takes notes on how to be spontaneous?” Her green eyes glinted with humor, but there was a new light there too—like hope mingling with the doubt.
“Especially then,” I grinned. “Means when you do let loose, it’s gonna be somethin’ special.”
“Thank you, Walker,” she said, her voice stronger now. “For understanding.”
“Anytime, darlin’. We’re all just figuring it out as we go.” And as I spoke those words, I realized they were as much for me as they were for her. Maybe this thing I was doing here, helping Caroline, was a necessary part of my journey too. A step toward the responsibility I craved, the legacy I wanted to leave behind. Maybe teaching Caroline about confidence would remind me of my own.
I leaned back again, my boots thudding softly against the floorboards as I watched Caroline’s shoulders relax. She tucked a stray auburn lock behind her ear, and her green eyes met mine with a spark of mischief.
“Alright, cowboy,” she said, that doctor’s determination lacing her tone like steel in velvet. “If we’re doing this, let’s get started.”
“Where’d you want to begin?” I drawled, crossing my arms and raising an eyebrow, intrigued by this new, bolder Caroline emerging before me.
“I think we should start with the basics. Touching. I should give you a hand job, and you can guide me.”
Jesus Christ.
“You’re really ready to jump right in here, aren’t you?”
She shrugged. “No sense in putting it off.”
I laughed. Louder than I meant to. Before now, it was easy to think about this arrangement in theory. But here she was, asking to jerk me off so she could make notes about it and the absurdity of it all was hitting me hard.
Almost as much as my growing attraction to her.
I was going to help her. But she needed to learn more about herself first as part of the process.
“I’m not gonna let you touch me till you know what you like. Until I know what you like.”
“What? This isn’t about me, this is about teaching me how to please others.”
A stab of jealousy hit my chest. I got up and approached her, leaning down and boxing her in against the back of the couch.
“That might be what you think, but there’s no way in hell I’m just gonna teach you how to get a man off without any consideration for you. Your pleasure matters. Your pleasure should come first. If any man doesn’t think so, he’s not the man for you. Got it?”
She looked up at me through her eyelashes, her mouth open and her breath causing her chest to rise and fall like waves.
“Got it?” I repeated.
She nodded. “Got it.”
“Good. Now show me how you touch yourself.”