Walker set down his coffee mug. “You’re right. We do need someone to manage the expansion. Someone who understands both the practical side and the mission.” He held Jonah’s gaze. “Do you understand the mission?”
The younger man’s breath caught audibly. “Yeah. I do now.”
“Then welcome aboard,” Walker said simply and reachedacross to shake Jonah’s hand. “Help us grow Valor Ridge and make it work for more men like us.”
Jonah beamed. “I actually have more ideas…”
And he certainly did.
After a breakfast filled with more logistics chatter—the kid wasreallyenthusiastic about supply chains—Walker found himself drawn back outside, pulled toward the fallen cottonwood. The morning sun had climbed higher, turning the snow into a bright, painful glare that made him squint. He stood at the edge of the porch, hands tucked into his coat pockets, staring at the deliberate destruction. Someone had come onto his land, had threatened one of his men. The knowledge sat like a stone in his gut, heavy and cold.
The screen door creaked open behind him. He didn’t need to turn to know it was Johanna—he recognized the pattern of her footsteps, the soft exhale of her breath as she stepped into the cold.
“You’re brooding,” she said, coming to stand beside him.
“Thinking,” he corrected. “There’s a difference.”
“Not from where I’m standing.” She folded her arms against the chill, her shoulder brushing his. “Jonah mentioned he found an ax.”
He exhaled a sound between a laugh and an exaggerated sigh. “Who would’ve guessed the kid likes to talk?”
“I did. I knew we hadn’t met the real Jonah yet. It’s nice to see him out of his shell.” She studied the tree. “So what are you going to do about it?”
Walker wasn’t sure if she meant the tree, Hank’s intimidation tactics, or something else entirely. He glanced at herprofile—the stubborn tilt of her chin, the wisps of dark hair lifting in the winter breeze.
“Whatever’s necessary,” he said finally. “This goes beyond harassment. Someone tried to hurt one of ours.”
“You can’t go after Hank directly.” Her voice held a warning. “That’s exactly what he wants. Don’t give him a reason to shut us down.”
“I know that.” He shifted his weight, turned toward her slightly. “I’ll handle it. Legally. Above board.”
She looked up at him, doubt clear in her eyes. “Promise me.”
“Jo—”
“Promise me, Walker. We’re building something great here. Something that matters.” Her gaze intensified, holding his. “I won’t watch you throw it away on revenge.”
The sun caught in her hair, highlighting strands of copper he’d never noticed before. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold, her breath forming small clouds between them. Something about the moment—her concern, the morning light, the shared sense of protectiveness over what they’d created together—cracked open a space in his chest he’d kept carefully sealed.
“I promise,” he said, the words rough in his throat.
She nodded, relief softening her features. They stood in silence, shoulder to shoulder, looking out at the fallen giant and the crushed truck beyond. So close he could feel the warmth of her through his coat sleeve.
“We got lucky,” she murmured. “If Jonah and Boone had been in that truck...”
“I know. Let’s not think about it.”
The wind picked up, sending a shiver through Johanna. Or maybe that was the could’ve beens running through her head.
Without thinking, he put his arms around her and foldedher against his chest. She looked up, surprised, their faces suddenly inches apart.
“Walker?”
He’d spent a year keeping a careful distance. A year of working side by side, of building something together while pretending they were just colleagues, just friends. A year of wanting and not having.
But it could’ve just as easily been her car under that tree.
Something in him broke loose—a dam he’d built to hold back everything he felt for her. His hands came up to frame her face, and before he could think better of it, he leaned down and kissed her.
