Beautifully Broken Pieces (Sutter Lake, #1)(58)

Walker’s eyes focused on mine with an intensity that scared me just a little. “Promise me if I tell you what happened, you won’t run on me.”

I tensed in his arms. It was bad. Really freaking bad from the look in his eyes. “I won’t run.” My voice was stronger than I felt.

“It was Caitlin. Some hikers found her body not far from where we found you yesterday.”

My body felt hot and then ice-cold. I shivered, and Walker’s arms tightened around me. “So, the person that shot at me was probably…” I couldn’t even finish the thought, it made me nauseous.

“We don’t know anything for sure, but it’s a strong possibility.” I nodded numbly, and Walker squeezed me again, bringing my gaze back to his. “Please don’t run. But I do want you to be careful. Keep these doors locked. No activities by yourself. Even swimming at the ranch house, I want you to make sure someone’s around.”

I swallowed against the lump in my throat. “Okay. Are you okay? I’m so sorry, Walker, I know Caitlin was…” I didn’t know quite how to finish that sentence.

Walker’s jaw tightened. “We weren’t,” he started. “It was never serious. At least it wasn’t for me. It was more so for her. And I feel a hell of a lot of guilt over that now, but there’s nothing I can do about it. The only thing I can do is find this son of a bitch and lock him away. That, I will do.” The vehemence of his words left no room for doubt.

“I know you will. Walker, if you’re not up for this tonight, we can do it another time.”

He shook his head and pulled me tighter against him. “This is exactly what I need. You and food and laughter. It’s the perfect distraction for the shit swirling in my head. Plus, I want to taste what you’ve cooked up.”

Anxious butterflies took flight in my belly, and I twisted my ring around my finger. Before I could say anything, Walker took hold of my hand, bringing it to his mouth and placing a kiss where my fingers met my palm, right on the ring. Of course, he would notice the nervous habit, the psychic sorcerer. “Come on, lead the way,” he instructed, linking my fingers with his.

How long had it been since someone had held my hand like this? A long freaking time. I hadn’t dated since my mom got sick the first time, and before that, I had been on one seriously long dry spell. It felt strange, but at the same time, comforting. My heart rate kicked up a notch, and those butterflies flared to life again. It was like I was in the seventh grade all over again, and Mitch Allen was holding my hand for the first time.

I gave myself a mental shake. Get it together, Taylor. “I’m, uh, not sure how well it turned out. The color’s not exactly right.”

Walker squeezed my hand. “It’s not about how it looks, it’s about how it tastes.”

“All right…” I wasn’t overly optimistic about the taste either. I’d already set the table, so while I dished up bowls of pasta, Walker poured us both drinks. My stomach churned as we both sat.

I watched with no small amount of anxiety as Walker took a bite of the pasta. His eyes widened a bit, and then he let out some sort of mmm sound. “This is good, Taylor. Really.”

He almost never used my actual name. I eyed him skeptically and took my own bite. It stayed in my mouth for a total of two seconds. Just long enough for me to taste a combination of salt, charred tomato, and something that was way too spicy for a pasta sauce. I spit it back out into my bowl, coughing and spluttering. I frantically chugged my water, trying desperately to rid my mouth of the horrible taste. “I can’t believe you swallowed that. Or were able to say it was good with a straight face!”

That was all it took for Walker to burst out laughing. “I’m sorry. I really wanted to like it. I want to be supportive.”

“No one would like that!” I shrieked. Walker only laughed harder. “It’s not funny. I’ve probably poisoned us both. We’ve only got hours to live.”

“Oh, quit your dramatics and come here.” Walker reached out a hand for me to come to him, but I just shook my head like a two-year-old. “Come on.”

I huffed but rose from my chair. As soon as I was within arm’s reach, Walker tugged me into his lap. He brushed his lips against mine, and I scrunched up my nose. “What?” he asked.

“We both need to brush our teeth or use some mouthwash or something. I can’t kiss you when you taste like that awful spaghetti.”

He chuckled and squeezed my waist. “Okay. We’re going to use some mouthwash, and then I’ll take you out to dinner. How about that?”

I stared down at my lap. “I really wanted to do something nice for you.” The words were almost a whisper. My heart ached at how painful and unfamiliar it felt to be vulnerable with someone like this. It had been so long.

Walker placed a finger under my chin, lifting it up and forcing me to meet his eyes. “You did. You tried something new, something you’ve been wanting to learn, and you let me in on the process. So it doesn’t taste like a gourmet meal. You gave me the gift of letting me into your world, which is everything I’ve been asking for. The only thing that would be a disappointment to me is if you shut me out or gave up trying. You’re not going to do that, are you?”

I pressed my lips together because I had the urge to do both of those things. Walker squeezed my side again. “Promise me now that at least once a month you will try a new cooking experiment, and that you’ll let me be here when you do. We’ll taste-test it, and if it works, great. If it doesn’t, I’ll take you out to dinner.”