“I know the feeling,” Rogue agreed.
“And whose fault is that?”
Rogue jerked around at the female voice and saw Kit standing in the door, hands on her hips, glaring at first one of them and then the other. He was somewhat disappointed to see she’d dressed, leaving behind the make-shift toga for more reputable attire.
“I want to talk to you.” She pointed at Rogue, crooked her finger and started off, expecting him to follow.
Rogue tipped his hat at Dave and followed. What else was he to do? This was a woman who’d once had him naked with his cock straining to get in her mouth. “Yes, dear.”
Dave choked back a laugh. “Good luck.”
“You didn’t have to get dressed on my account,” he muttered, checking out the sway of her hips lovingly molded by a lucky pair of blue jeans. He could also see a leather belt with her name ‘KIT’ stamped on the back. Above that she wore some type of lacy pink camisole which had see-through places in it. Lord help, he’d go blind trying to peek through those intriguing little openings.
“I needed to put on clothes so I could walk you to your car,” she snarled over her shoulder.
“I’m not leaving,” he reiterated.
He expected her to head for the front door, instead she led him into the dining room where the enticing smells were still as strong. His stomach grumbled loud enough for her to hear it.
“Yes, you’re leaving. Sit down.” She pointed at a table graced with a white linen cloth and a bouquet of wildflowers.
He did, noticing again that he was the only one around. “We’re going to have to hone our communication skills. You have an inordinately hard time comprehending what I’m saying today.”
“Sorry, it’s hard for me to dumb-down.” She placed a small plate in front of him with a thick slice of homemade bread smeared with butter. “There, I don’t want you spreading false rumors that I’m not hospitable.”
Rogue couldn’t have been more surprised if she’d slapped him in the face with a wet mackerel. “Wow, thanks.” He didn’t even hesitate but picked up the bread and took a big bite. “Damn, this is good.”
Kit sat across from him, her hands folded in front of her. She had to do something to keep from touching him. He looked like a fuckin’ dream. He’d said she hadn’t changed a bit…well, he certainly as hell had. She would never have thought it possible, but the man was better looking than she remembered—and she remembered it all – every last damn detail. He wore tight jeans, a white western shirt rolled up to reveal strong forearms dusted with dark hair, a leather vest and a pair of custom made boots with longhorns on them to match that belt buckle she so well remembered unhooking on the night of her greatest shame. “You’re welcome. I like to bake.”
Rogue smiled around the ambrosia he was chewing. She was still mad and Kit Ross was damn sexy when she was pissed. “From everything I’ve heard about White-Wing, it looks like it could be a huge success. Why am I the only one here?”
Kit debated whether to carry on a conversation with him, her ingrained sense of decency won. “We’re located in the middle of nowhere and I have no money left for advertising. But I do have a few guests scheduled, there’s even a group coming in tomorrow to see about making a big reservation—not that it’s any of your business.” She reached into her pocket and withdrew cash. “Here, I insist on giving your money back. When you get through with your card game, I want you out of here.” She leveled a look at him that would’ve melted asphalt.
Rogue laid the remainder of his slice of bread down, ignoring the bills folded on the table in front of him.
He had hurt her.
For the first time it really hit him. He’d known he pissed her off, made her angry. Perhaps even embarrassed her. But obviously it had been more. Rogue looked into her beautiful face and saw remnants of pain still residing in her eyes years after he’d so stupidly inflicted it. “Katherine, I can’t take your money and let me stop right here and say something I should’ve said that night. I’m sorry. I was wrong. What I did was idiotic and worse, it wasn’t true. I was a self-centered wet-behind-the-ears kid who didn’t know a good thing when he saw one. Will you forgive me?”
Katherine stopped. She just stopped—moving, thinking, breathing. Their eyes were locked as he waited. Slowly her mind started to weigh the idea. What would it hurt? A fresh start. Wipe the slate clean. Let bygones be bygones. Let him off the hook.
“No, I don’t think so.” She stood. “Please feel free to use the cabin to freshen up, but I’d appreciate it if you’d leave when it’s over. I can make you a reservation at the motel near the airport if you’d like. The sooner you’re out of Kansas and back in Texas, the happier I’ll be.”
Rogue glanced at her right hand. He was somewhat relieved to see it was ringless. “I hate to break it to you, but I’m sorta considering moving here part-time.” Up until that moment, he’d been weighing his options on how he could break Dusty’s will or sell his interest to his brothers. Well, he’d changed his mind.
Kit had changed his mind. He was going to think long and hard about it before he decided.
“What do you mean?” Horrified was a good word for how she was feeling.
“As it happens, Dusty Walker was my father. Walker Minerals belongs to me and my brothers.”
Katherine opened her mouth, then shut it, opened it again and all that came out was a squeak. Throwing up her hands she stomped off and Rogue leaned way out in his chair so he’d have a good view of her leaving—cause she looked damn good.
* * *
Rogue took a sip of Jack Daniel’s. Jack was his go-to drink while he played. He sat fairly still, letting his eyes rove around the room. He had pocket aces and there were two more on the table. Of the three men playing with him, Dave Parker was the one most out of his league. So far, he’d identified Kit’s stepfather’s tells right away. He whistled when he had a good hand and stared at his cards when he had a bad hand.
Troy Keller wasn’t consistent. So far, he covered part of his face with a good hand and frowned with a fair one. Some player’s transparency almost made playing against them a crime. Barnaby, on the other hand, was a challenge. He, like Rogue, had no tell.
The only thing proving to be a distraction for him was the beautiful woman who sat at the back of the room, silent and still. He didn’t know why Kit was there, she wasn’t encouraging or even offering them refreshments. Perhaps she was there to make sure he left as soon as the game was over.
“I raise,” Barnaby muttered and pushed another pile of chips toward the center of the table.
“I fold.” Troy sighed.
“I raise again.” Dave added more chips.
Rogue checked out each man’s face before he raised again. When the time came to show their hands, Dave threw his cards down and cussed, “Goddammit,” as Rogue raked in the chips. Kit looked nervous, Rogue noticed. Barnaby didn’t react, he was one cool SOB.
When it was Barnaby’s turn to deal, he did so with no show of emotion. Dave was sweating. Rogue smiled to himself. He never played any game he couldn’t afford to lose—be it with cards or people.
After that, the hands became more and more intense. Keller encouraged Dave from the side. Once, Barnaby told him to shut up. Rogue didn’t let on either way. When Gordon, a fellow poker fanatic who owned a trucking company arranged this gig, Rogue had known about Barnaby. He had a rep for not fearing big bets or big risks. Rogue had a hit list of players he wanted to beat and Barnaby Miller was on it.
Yet as the game wore on, Barnaby began to make mistakes and Rogue soon realized he’d overestimated him. Maybe he was having an off day, it happened. The man was a surgeon from Kansas City and Rogue was sure that was a nerve-wracking profession. Soon Barnaby folded for the last time and it was just Rogue and Dave left to play. The amount of money that had passed over the table so far was over a hundred grand and most of it would be going into his pocket.
Finally, Rogue sat with a six and a seven of hearts in h
is hand. An eight, nine and ten of hearts lay on the table. A straight flush. Dave was whistling Dixie—literally. Rogue had no crystal ball, but something told him this was it. He raised. Dave wiped sweat, he didn’t have enough chips to make the bet. “Whatcha gonna do?” Rogue asked him.
Dave glanced nervously at Kit, then blew out a long breath. He reached into his coat pocket and brought out a notepad. “I hold the lien on several properties.”
This wasn’t what Rogue was expecting. “Yes?”
“Is this even legal?” Keller asked.
Rogue shrugged. “This is a private, unsanctioned game. We can do whatever the hell we want to.” He addressed Dave. “Are you sure you want to risk it? I have a pretty good hand.” Yes, he was cocky.
“I’m sure.” He began to write. “I have better cards.”
“So, what you got?” Rogue asked, curious as to what the man would risk and what hand would give him so much confidence.
Dave placed a scrap of paper on the table, a description of the property, an amateur IOU. “I wouldn’t risk this if I wasn’t sure.”
“What’s happening?” Kit moved forward.
Rogue picked up the offering and he couldn’t believe what he was reading: Transferable Lien against White-Wing Ranch, Red Creek, Kansas.
Kit snatched it out of his hand. “No! You can’t do this.” She looked at all of them, obviously flabbergasted. “My mother or my father never missed a note and now she’s your wife!”
Dave held up his hand. “Stay out of this. This isn’t the homestead, it’s the grazing acreage. The note’s still in my name and I haven’t taken any money from the till for three months, there just hasn’t been any extra. Besides, I’m not going to lose. This is a sure thing!”
In college, Rogue hadn’t made the best grades, but he’d done fair. In some areas, he’d excelled and one of those areas was analytical thinking. He prided himself on being able to study all of the facts, see all the angles and make the best decision. Here, he was faced with a quandary. On one hand, he wasn’t in the habit of taking people’s land away from them. On the other, it was apparent Dave Parker had a gambling problem. If he would risk White-Wing this time, he’d do it again.
Rogue met Kit’s gaze, she looked as if she were about to cry. Undoubtedly the financial situation of White-Wing was a bone of contention between her and her stepfather. Whatever she knew about the note, he was sure that she considered Rogue’s obtaining it to be going from bad to worse.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” he addressed Dave.
To his surprise, Dave laughed. “What? Are you a coward? I match your bet and raise you by the current amount left owing on this property, fifty thousand dollars.”
Rogue held his gaze. “A coward I’m not. Let’s do it.”
“Rogue, I swear to God!” Kit yelled behind him. “Men!” She threw her hands in the air. “Every man I’ve ever met seems intent on fuckin’ up my life!”
“Four kings,” Dave announced proudly.
Rogue slowly laid down his cards. “Straight flush.”
“Shit.” Dave laid his head in his hands.
Rogue turned to Kit Ross. “I guess I’ll be staying here tonight, since I have this.” He picked up the paper and put it in his pocket.
* * *
Cabin nine suited his needs just fine. He was in dire need of a shower, the game hadn’t been heated but what happened next had been a scorcher. There had been a scene between Kit and Dave. He’d stayed only long enough to get the legal papers that made his win official, but from what he’d heard, Kit had reason to be angry. She’d reminded Dave of every hurtful detail. When her father passed, things had gone downhill. Like the driver had said, small cattle ranches were a difficult proposition, hard to keep profitable. It hadn’t really been Kit or her mother’s fault. A few years before Will Ross died, the price of beef had gone down, a drought had come, the price of hay had risen and the big corporations used the circumstances to force small ranches out of business. White-Wing had eventually been one of the casualties. Kit had made a difficult decision. To preserve the land, she’d sold the last of the cattle and had turned their focus toward training horses and hosting hunters. All of this cost money, so maintaining their home and paying for the improvements was a cost in addition to paying the long standing mortgage on the acreage purchased from Dave Parker, a mortgage Dave had held himself.
He’d listened as she reminded Dave that she’d poured her personal savings into the note and sold off some of her prized horses to pay cash for the improvements, so the ranch could one day be self-supporting again. “My house is on that acreage you so casually wagered, my horses are kept here. Everything is there except the original homestead. You’ve literally placed the future of my home in the hands of a man who despises me!”
Rogue had known Kit blamed him, but he hadn’t realized she thought he despised her. Something had to be done. He wasn’t the bad guy, not in this situation anyway. Yea, he’d once mouthed off when he had no business to—all because he had a huge ego and zero tact. He didn’t have all the facts yet, but she’d learn soon enough that she didn’t have anything to fear from him. Compared to her stepfather, Rogue felt like he was a safe bet.
Rogue undressed by his bed. It had been a long day. He’d flown out of Austin before dawn, arriving in Kansas for the reading of his father’s will. Met three men who looked so much like him that they could have been cloned in some mad scientist’s laboratory. Learned that he was now part owner of a business, while profitable, was going to eat into the time he used to manage his own company, a company he loved and had built from the ground up with his own two hands.
And lastly, he’d come face to face with a woman with whom he shared memories that haunted him to this day. Her face. Her kiss. Her touch.
Once he was naked, he strode to the bathroom, flipped on the shower and leaned on the wall while the water came up to temperature. He needed to do some thinking, decide what would be the wisest thing to do. First he needed to call Elijah and see what was going on with his company. His former team roping partner/schoolmate worked for him. They’d stayed friends and Rogue was as close to him as he was anyone, which wasn’t saying much. He’d read scholarly articles about how your relationship with your father could impact your whole life, and Rogue feared it was safe to say he was impacted, in some ways fucked. But checking on his business interests with Elijah was something he could put off till tomorrow. Tonight, he needed a shower, some room service and a good night’s sleep.
As he soaped his body, his hands roving over his skin as he washed away the dirt and grime of the day, his mind wandered to Kit. If he closed his eyes, he could still feel her hands on him, her lips on his body. He groaned as his hand rubbed over his cock and balls. Rogue was just about two heartbeats away from jacking off when he heard it…a noise from the other side of the door. Someone was in his bedroom—again.
Shutting off the water, he grabbed a towel, dashing the water from his face and chest before hastily wrapping it around his hips. Throwing open the door, he smirked as he stalked into his room to see who had intruded on his privacy…as if he didn’t know...
Kit Ross sat on Rogue’s bed. She’d known he was taking a shower, but she at least hoped the man would have the decency to get dressed before barging out to where she was waiting. But decent wasn’t a word that could be applied to Rogue Walker. Especially when he was wearing nothing but a scrap of cotton that wasn’t big enough to wrap up a decent size pan of biscuits.
“I need to invest in bigger towels,” she drawled.
“Not on my account.” He almost jerked it off, almost. But he was striving to be the gentleman he should have been six years ago. Facetiously, he asked, “As lien holder, will I get a master key to all the rooms?”
She gave him a cold hard stare. “The note isn’t on the homestead.”
“Right. It’s what’s in your house that I have…an interest in.” He gave her a smile. “We need to stop meeting like this. To
what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”
“I want to talk.”
“All right.” He leaned back on the dresser, not bothering to worry if the towel was fully meeting where he had it tied. “Shoot.”
“Don’t tempt me.” She huffed. “Would you please put some clothes on?”
“Once you were very anxious to get my clothes off.” When she nailed him with another glare, he smiled and turned to go dress. With a mischievous grin, he jerked off the towel and flashed his bare ass at her as he sauntered off. Her enraged gasp satisfied him. As soon as he’d finished, he returned. “Better?”
It wasn’t. Covering up his gorgeous body was a sin, she just wouldn’t admit that to him. “Yes, thank you.” Kit cleared her throat. “I want you to give it back.”
“The note?” He’d known this conversation was coming.
“Yes, pretend that stupid bet didn’t happen and just return the note for White-Wing to my stepfather.”
Rogue sat, one leg halfway on the dresser, his forearm resting on his thigh. “I’m sorry, I can’t do that. I won it fair and square.”
Kit jumped up, furious. “Why are you doing this to me? Do you hate me that much? I sent your friend back to pick you up that night, you know.”
“Yea, but when I saw the lights from the vehicle coming, I jumped into the ditch filled with poison ivy and scratched for a week.”
She didn’t want to laugh, but she did.
Rogue softened his voice. “I don’t hate you or despise you. At all.”
“Then give the note back. Don’t do this.”
She gave him such a look of desperation that Rogue dry-scrubbed his face, wishing he could make this easier. “I’m not out to get you, Kit. You’re just going to have to trust me.”
Kit looked as if she were about to cry. “You know that’s impossible.”
“Your note is safe with me,” Rogue spoke slowly, gently, then grinned. “A lot safer than you are right now.”
She stepped right up into his face. “I’m not afraid of you.” And she wasn’t—she was excited.
Rogue: The Sons of Dusty Walker Page 5