Page 8 of Careless Hope

“Yeah.”

“Ah, you know, same old. Wrangling. Training. Being Gray’s bitch.”

She laughed at that, and I found myself enjoying the sound. Light as air but throaty. It punched me in the gut. I don’t know what made me do it, except the fact that talking with Caroline was way easier and natural than I ever would have figured. So I took a chance and allowed myself to share.

“Actually, I’ve been thinking about doing more with the family business, maybe branch out, do something worthwhile.”

“Like what?” Her interest seemed genuine, and I appreciated that she wasn’t just humoring the dumbass cowboy sitting across from her.

I took a few more bites, pondering how much I should share. But at a glance at her face, sweet and curious, I realized it would be all too easy to share anything with this woman. She’d alwaysbeen kind, but the years seemed to have given her a new level of understanding. I found myself opening up and not regretting it.

“I’ve been thinking about setting up a riding program for kids. There’s a lot of tourism we could get into, and I do wanna do that, but I want to do something meaningful too. I’ve been researching how to maybe involve some of the horses in therapy work. There’s healing in those animals, not just for the body, but for the soul too.”

Her lips spread into a wide smile, her eyes twinkling. “That sounds amazing, Walker,” she said, nodding. “Equine therapy can be so beneficial. I think you should go for it. You’ve always had a way with animals. It’s a gift.”

“Thanks.” I could feel the weight of years of drifting begin to lift, sharing this sliver of a dream with someone who might understand. “It’s just an idea for now, but who knows?”

“Sometimes, all it takes is one idea to change everything,” Caroline said, her voice soft but sure. “I believe in that.”

“Guess we’re both looking to put down some new roots in our own way,” I mused, feeling the strange comfort of shared aspirations. “Life’s funny like that.”

“Full of surprises,” she agreed, smiling in a way that suggested there were layers to Caroline Cressley I hadn’t yet seen.

“Indeed.” I leaned forward, elbows on the table, caught in the unexpected ease of our banter. “So, what else should I know about Dr. Cressley’s triumphant return?”

She lifted a shoulder. “Not much else to say at this point, I suppose. I’m still settling in.”

“Well if you need any help, you know where to find me.”

She narrowed her eyes for a moment, as if confused and I wondered what I’d done wrong. But then the look was gone, replaced by another genuine smile. It had a warmth in it that felt good to witness.

“Thanks, Walker.”

“I’m glad I ran into you,” I admitted, leaning back again in the booth, captivated by this blend of the familiar and the new. “You’ve changed, Caroline. Not just the doc part, but?—”

“But what?” She arched an eyebrow, curiosity dancing in her eyes.

“Nothing bad,” I rushed to clarify, feeling the corners of my mouth tug upward. “It’s just . . . you’ve got this air about you now. Like you’re not afraid to take up space in the world.”

“Is that so?” She tilted her head, considering. “Well, med school will do that to you. Kinda have to assert yourself if you want to survive.”

“Guess that explains why you’re not letting me off easy for crashing your booth.” I chuckled, the sound more genuine than I expected.

“Someone has to keep you cowboys in check,” she shot back with a grin, reaching for her coffee mug. Her hand missed the handle, knocking it slightly, and a drop of coffee splashed onto the table.

“Whoa there, Dr. Cressley,” I teased, grabbing a napkin to dab at the spill. “Don’t go tarnishing that sophisticated image on my account.”

Her cheeks flushed a soft pink, and she laughed, a sound that seemed too rare coming from her. “Oh, hush. You haven’t seen anything yet. Give me a scalpel, and I’m all grace and precision.”

“Remind me never to end up under your knife. I like my innards where they are, thank you very much.” The banter felt as comfortable as my favorite pair of boots, worn in just right.

We fell into an easy silence, the kind that wasn’t awkward or needing to be filled with noise. I finished my food as I watched her, this woman who had once been a shadow in the halls of ourhigh school, now casting her own bright light. And damned if I wasn’t a little bit inspired.

“Can I get you something? Another coffee, maybe?” I offered, the words spilling out easier than I’d expected. Caroline blinked, that same hint of surprise I’d noticed earlier flickering across her face before she nodded.

“Sure, coffee sounds good,” she replied, and there was a warmth in her voice that hadn’t been there before, a softness that made me think of sunrise over the ranch fields—promising and bright.

I flagged down Marge with a two-finger salute, and she shuffled over with the pot, pouring us each a steaming cup. The scent wrapped around us like a well-worn blanket. I watched as Caroline wrapped her hands around the mug, her slender fingers contrasting with the thick ceramic.

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