Chapter 7 - Walker

I push back from the table with a grunt, my joints protesting the movement after being seated for so long. Naomi seems to pick up on my unspoken cue, moving to help clear the mugs.

"You just sit tight there, darlin"," I tell her gruffly, taking the mugs from her hands. "I"ll get us sorted out."

She frowns a little at the dismissal but doesn"t argue further.

I make my way into the kitchen, dumping the dregs of tea down the drain before setting the mugs in the basin to deal with later. For now, I need to get my head on straight and figure out what the hell I"m gonna feed this unexpected houseguest.

And opening up like that about Mama and Pop? I don"t know what came over me back there. Ain"t like me to talk about old wounds, especially in front of someone I barely know. Pretty little thing like Naomi sure doesn"t need to get tangled up in my ancient history and hard-luck tales.

Still, something about her...that easy way she listens without judging or pityin". Like she just gets it, you know? She understands how this life can tear pieces off a man, little by little, till he isn"t even sure what"s left anymore.

I shake my head, disgusted with my own train of thought. This path leads nowhere good; I know that much for damn sure. It"s best to just brush it off and focus on playing the good host for now.

Rummaging through the pantry and icebox, I do a quick inventory of what"s on hand. Not much, but I reckon I can throw together a respectable stew with some canned goods and whatever fresh veg is kicking around.

Decision made, I pull out a heavy pot and set to work assembling the ingredients - carrots, potatoes, tomatoes, a de-boned ham hock snatched from the back of the old icebox.

Simple man"s fare, but hot and hearty. Should do the trick of fillin" both our bellies just fine.

"You need a hand in here?" Naomi"s voice cuts through my single-minded focus.

I glance up to find her hoverin" in the doorway, cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink from the warmth of the kitchen.

"Nah, I got it handled," I reply, maybe a touch brusquer than intended. "Why don"t you get that fire stoked up? Gonna need it good and hot to warm this place up proper once the chill sets in."

She purses her lips like she might argue, but just nods instead with a simple

"Sure."

I watch her retreat to the living room out of the corner of my eye, her curvy form outlined in silhouette against the dying embers still smoldering in the hearth.

Satisfied, I turn my attention back to the task at hand. I work in unhurried silence, the mindless motions of chopping and seasoning helping to soothe my restless thoughts.

This is good, honest labor, I understand—none of the messy complications of feelings or half-buried regrets muddy the waters.

Just me, a knife, and some garlic salt to keep things simple.

But with the stew simmering" and the kitchen warmth building, I figure I might as well bite the bullet and rejoin our guest. No sense hiding out in here till supper"s done, not when we"re like to be sharing" close quarters all damn night.

I give the stew one last stir before leaving it to burble away on the stovetop. Out in the living room, Naomi managed to resuscitate the fire into a proper blaze. She"s perched on the edge of the battered sofa, hands extended towards the dancing flames.

"That"s more like it," I rumble in approval as I cross to my usual armchair and ease my bulk into the cracked leather with a contented sigh. "You"re a regular little fire-whisperer, ain"t ya?"

She tears her gaze from the hypnotic licks of orange and yellow to flash me a small smile.

"Learned young. Spent some time in Girl Scouts and all that."

I snort at that.

"Should"ve guessed. You seem like you were one of them earnest little overachievers, sellin" them cookies door-to-door and whatnot."

"Among other things," Naomi agrees easily, not rising to the bait of my gentle ribbing. She knows how to pick her battles; I"ll give her that. "We dabbled in all the usual camping skills too - fire-building, knot-tying, first aid..."

"First aid, huh?" I latch onto that one with a raised eyebrow. "That certainly would come in handy later on, right?"

She shrugs, gaze drifting back towards the flames. "Maybe a little. It taught me a thing or two, but you want to know a secret?"

"I'd love to," I say, leaning back and settling in to listen.

Despite my earlier reluctance to dredge up old histories, I find myself oddly invested in hearing more about what shaped this woman into who she is today.

"I told you I became a veterinarian because I always felt connected to animals, and it's true, but it all started when I was just a little kid. I couldn"t have been more than five or six," Naomi continues in a pensive tone. "We were living out in the country then, more rural than the usual places my folks dragged us. Had all sorts of critters running around - barn cats, stray dogs, you name it."

She shakes her head with a soft huff of laughter. "One day, I found this scrawny little calico kitten, hurt and stuck in a ditch not far from our place. I scooped her up, carried her home, and promptly had a meltdown when I realized she was bleeding and unconscious."

Naomi"s eyes regain their focus, meeting my gaze head-on. "My parents tried to console me, saying we"d take her to the vet in the morning if she made it through the night. But that just wasn"t good enough for me - I was so frantic, so desperate to help her right that second."

A wistful smile plays across her lips. "That"s when my mom showed me how to clean and dress the little scratch on her paw, stuff like that. Basic first aid, just enough to keep her stable until we could get proper help."

"Let me guess," I interject gruffly. "You stayed up all night, nursed that mangey thing back to health?"

Her smile widens into a full-fledged grin, lighting up her whole face.

"You know it. I don"t think I slept a wink, just sat there holding her and watching her breathe."

I can"t help but shake my head at the sheer earnestness of it all. The kid probably ran herself ragged, fussing over that cat, all bright-eyed determination and youthful compassion.

"So that"s where it started, huh?" I rumble. "Savin" strays and varmints from the mean ol" world?"

Something sparks behind Naomi"s eyes then - a glimmer of that same fiery zeal from her childhood, undimmed despite the years.

"That"s exactly where it started," she affirms with a decisive nod. "From that point on, I was hooked. Learned everything I could about caring for animals, got pretty handy at patching up the neighborhood "patients" whenever I could..." She trails off with an easy chuckle: "My poor parents, they never stood a chance. I was going to be a vet or nothing."

I let loose a low whistle, thoroughly charmed despite myself by her stubborn single-mindedness, even at such a tender age.

"Well, I"ll be damned. Here I figured you were just one of those poor, misguided saps who got roped into chasin" down sick cows for a living."

Naomi arches an eyebrow at my teasing jibe, clearly undaunted.

"Oh, is that right? And what do you know about that, Mr. Jameson?"

There"s a saucy tease to her voice that sets my heart thumping just a touch faster against my ribs. But two can play at this game.

Leaning forward, I fix her with a look from beneath my lowered brows.

"You"d be surprised at the things I had to learn," I drawl.

Naomi holds my gaze boldly, not backing down an inch. A playful smirk curves her lips.

"Is that so? Well then, I suppose I"ll have to take your word for it, cowboy."

The way that honey-sweet drawl rolls off her tongue sets a slow smolder burning low in my gut. I quirk a brow right back at her, refusing to be cowed by her sassy rejoinder.

"That a challenge?"

She chuckles, the sound rich and warm like aged whiskey.

"From where I"m sitting, it sure doesn"t look like cows are what you"ve got the most trouble handling around here."

The flare of heat in my belly kicks up a notch at her blatant insinuation. Clearly, the lady has a bit more spice to her than I initially thought. I can"t decide if I"m aggravated or intrigued by her plucky defiance.

Before I can properly respond to put her back in her place, Naomi rises fluidly from the sofa.

"I think I"ll go check on that stew," she announces, tone all sugary-sweet innocence once more. "Wouldn"t want it to burn while we"re chatting, after all."

With that parting shot, she turns on her heel and saunters toward the kitchen, leaving me gawking after her with my mouth halfway hung open like a damn stunned greenhorn.

It takes a solid minute for higher functioning to return. Once it does, I let loose a rough bark of laughter that echoes through the empty room.

Well I"ll be double-damned...

She"s got carbon steel wrapped up in that pretty little package; there"s no two ways about it. Most of the ranch bunnies who"ve come sniffing around here looking to lasso themselves a lonesome cowboy wouldn"t know the first thing about giving as good as they get.

But not Naomi. Oh no, she"s cut from far finer cloth than that. She"s the kind of gal who can trade playful jabs and piping innuendos without even blinking, never missing a step along the way.

I lean back in my chair, running a hand through my disheveled hair. Gonna have to mind my step with this one, that"s for damn sure.

I can"t even recall the last time a woman put me so firmly on the back foot right off the bat. It usually takes more than a few heated exchanges and lingering looks before the claws start coming out.

But not Naomi, apparently. She seems more than happy to remind me she"s nobody"s pushover at the first opportunity. I shake my head again, an unbidden grin tugging at the corners of my mouth.

I lean out of my chair and make my way toward the kitchen and the simmering stew. Right on cue, Naomi emerges, holding two plates and spoons just as I round the corner.

"Perfect timing," she says brightly, "I was just about to put these on the table."

"Well, lead on then," I reply gruffly, grabbing the food bowl, "Let"s get this show on the road."

Naomi dips her chin in a shallow nod of assent before turning and heading over to the table. I trail after at a more sedate pace, balancing the bowl carefully as I follow the gentle sway of her hips with my gaze.

Once we"re situated at the battered old table, I ladle out hearty portions of the thick, savory stew onto each plate. It"s a simple affair, but sometimes simple is best, especially on a raw night like this.

"It smells amazing," Naomi murmurs as I set the steaming bowl in front of her. There"s an appreciative glimmer in her eyes that somehow makes the compliment feel more meaningful than a polite dinner chitchat.

"It ain"t nothin" fancy," I mumble, suddenly self-conscious under the weight of her warm appraisal. "It"s just a quick, basic plate."

"Hey now, don"t sell yourself short." She looks me in the eye over the rim of her raised spoon. "Anyone who can turn some canned tomatoes and leftover ham into something this delicious definitely isn"t lacking in the kitchen prowess department."

A beat passes where I simply stare at her, at an uncharacteristic loss for words. There"s no denying she"s an attractive woman - hair tumbling in soft waves, those full lips she purses thoughtfully as she chews, the delicate sweep of her neck leading down to the tantalizing glimpse of cleavage peeking out from beneath her shirt.

I catch my gaze lingering a moment too long on that last bit of exposed flesh. Clearing my throat loudly, I tear my eyes away and refocus on my food with renewed intensity.

Get a grip, Walker, "fore you go embarrassing yourself in front of the lady.

Though even as I chastise myself, my mind has already begun to wander down less respectable paths - wondering what the rest of her curvy frame looks like beneath those layers of khaki and cotton, musing how her sun-kissed skin might taste under my calloused palms...