Page 19 of Careless Hope

“That’s the sound of life, Car,” Sutton teased, lifting her glass in a mock toast. “The question is, are you ready to jump in and join it?”

“Maybe,” I said, the word feeling like a promise I wasn’t quite sure I could keep. But as I sat there, amidst the laughter and the clinking glasses, with Sutton’s unwavering support beside me, I thought that maybe—just maybe—I might be ready to try.

As the country tunes hummed their familiar rhythms, my eyes couldn’t help but wander back to the bar. Amidst the sea of cowboy hats and denim, a group of guys leaned against the polished wood, their laughter rising above the din. They seemed like an easygoing bunch, the sort that seemed to radiate confidence and charm. I caught the tail end of a joke, one of them tossing his head back with a chuckle, and my gaze unwittingly locked with his for a heartbeat too long.

“Looks like you’ve got an audience,” Sutton remarked, her lips curling into an amused smirk as she followed my line of sight.

I felt a tug of unease knotting my stomach, a reminder of my habitual place on the sidelines during high school dances. “Probably just wondering why I was staring,” I mumbled, brushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear.

“Or maybe they’re admiring the view,” Sutton quipped, her grin teasing as she sipped her drink.

I didn’t recognize them so I knew they hadn’t grown up here. “Do you know them?”

“Nah. Probably new ranch hands down at the Bottleneck. I heard they replaced their whole team after some shenanigans went down.”

Before I could muster a response to that, one of the guys detached himself from the pack, his boots thudding a confidentrhythm across the wooden floor. As he approached, I took in the rugged lines of his jeans, the casual roll of his sleeves, and the easy smile that played on his lips.

“Evening, ladies,” he greeted, tipping an imaginary hat in our direction. “Couldn’t help but notice that smile from across the bar. It’s not every day we see something so bright it outshines the neon lights.”

My heart did a little two-step of its own, and I managed a polite nod, hoping my smile didn’t betray the flutter of nerves beneath. “Thank you, that’s very kind,” I said, the words feeling as stiff as a new pair of scrubs. “I’m Caroline, and this is Sutton.”

“Nice to meet you both,” he replied, his voice smooth as aged whiskey. “I’m Jason. Mind if I join you for a spell?”

Sutton shot me a glance that was equal parts encouragement and mischief before gesturing to the empty chair beside us. “Sure, have a seat. But be warned, Caroline here will put you under the microscope if you’re not careful.”

“Is that so?” He chuckled, pushing the chair over to the side of the booth and settling in it with a casual ease. “Well, I’ll have to make sure I stay on her good side then.”

I found myself smiling, genuinely this time, as the man’s presence projected a confidence I found extremely attractive. Maybe I could borrow some of that. “No need for caution,” I assured him. “Tonight, I’m off duty.”

“Good to hear,” he said, his grin wide and inviting. “Let’s leave work talk for another time then. Tell me, Caroline, what brings you to the Dusty Barrel tonight?”

“Old times’ sake,” I said, glancing around at the worn tables and the walls that held whispers of a youth spent dreaming of the future. “And maybe a bit of new beginnings.”

“New beginnings,” he echoed. “I like the sound of that.” His gaze lingered, expectant, and I could feel the familiarflutter of nerves in my stomach. But the conversational trail seemed to fade into the thicket of my suddenly tangled thoughts.

“Uh, yeah . . . it’s, um, nice to—” My voice caught, tripping over a nonexistent hurdle. “To be back, I mean. I grew up here, but moved away for school.” I forced my eyes up from the sanctuary of my hands, only to find them lost in the complexity of his easy confidence.

“Back in the saddle of small town life, huh?” he probed with a tilt of his head, his smile never faltering.

“Something like that,” I mumbled, my gaze skittering away again as if it had found something terribly interesting in the grain of the wooden table.

Sutton’s laugh, light and melodic, broke through my flustered pause. “She means she’s been off conquering the medical world,” she interjected, her tone laced with pride. “And now she’s bringing all that big-city expertise right here to Whittier Falls.”

“Is that so?” His interest shifted, visibly piqued, but I found myself staring blankly without a clue as to how to respond. Before I could attempt to stumble through another sentence, Sutton had taken the reins of the conversation.

“Absolutely. This one’s going to patch up all the cowboys who’ve forgotten that bulls are stronger than they are,” she quipped, tossing me a conspiratorial wink.

“Sounds like a full-time job around these parts,” he chuckled, leaning back in his chair, attention momentarily diverted from my awkwardness.

“Only if they keep ignoring common sense.” Sutton laughed, and I took a moment to admire how effortlessly she danced through the rhythms of small talk—a skill I had yet to master.

I drew in a slow breath, grateful for the brief respite to gather my scattered wits. Around us, the Dusty Barrel thrummed with life, a symphony of clinking glasses and hearty laughter that feltboth foreign and familiar. Another foreign concept was flirting, but I had to think of this as just another skill to learn. I was in class. I could do this.

I shook my head to drown out the sounds of my own thoughts and focused on Sutton, who was recounting a recent escapade involving an escaped goat and her bakery’s kitchen, the story painting smiles on our faces.

“Seems to me you’re the one who could use a doctor around,” the man said to Sutton, laughter warming his words.

“Or at least a good fence builder,” I chimed in, finding my footing once more. Sort of.

---