“What?” she asked, her voice shaking. “What did I give you?”
“You said you loved me. And you told me about our baby.” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss right over where their child lay beneath her heart. “Marry me, Kit-Kat.”
Kit wanted to. It was like a child seeing a beautifully colored balloon and reaching out for it, only to find that it had drifted up and away beyond her reach. “You’re proposing because I’m pregnant. I don’t want that.”
Rogue shook his head. “No, and I can prove it.” Reaching down into his pants pocket, he pulled out a diamond engagement ring. “I bought this for you today. I came here for the express purpose of asking for your hand in marriage.” He held out his hand. “May I?”
Someway, somehow Kit’s dreams were coming true. She laid her hand into his and he slipped the ring on her finger. “I don’t understand. Did you change your mind?”
Rogue rose to his feet. “Baby, I love you. I love you so much.” He held her tight. “And let me tell you why. I love to be with you. You make me happy. You make me laugh.” He kissed her long and hard. “And God knows you excite me, you turn me on. Touching you, making love with you is out of this world. And the crazy thing is that you make me feel safe.”
“Are you sure?” She couldn’t help but ask. “Because I’d live with you without being married. I know how you felt…because of Dusty.”
Rogue ran his fingers through her hair, weaving them, binding her to him. “I am like Dusty in many ways. He was my father. But there’s a difference…he kept searching for what I’ve already found. All I need is you.”
Kit smiled and went up on tiptoe to kiss him. “And our baby.”
“Yes,” Rogue agreed. “And our baby.” Sweeping her up, he carried Kit to the bed where he undressed her with great care. “The day I walked into this room and found you in my bed was the luckiest day of my life.”
“Make love to me, Rogue,” she whispered.
And he did. “With pleasure.”
EPILOGUE
On the thirty-first of August, three private jets arrived at the small airport outside Red Creek, bringing Jackson, Dylan, and Killian Walker back to Kansas.
The four half-brothers met at Cubby’s at noon as agreed via email.
“You’re driving Dad’s Caddy?” Dylan gestured to the champagne-colored land barge parked at the curb. He grinned at Rogue, who’d spent the last week in Kansas.
“Damn right.” Rogue gestured to a table for four, and the brothers sat, one at each of the four sides. “The thing is smooth as sin.”
Jackson fiddled with the fork that sat on a napkin in front of him. “You know, Dylan, when I got your email after that first week, I thought you’d gone crazy.”
Rogue and Killian nodded.
Dylan had sent a note to his brothers telling them that the town had a lot to offer, the business was surprisingly interesting, and the people of Red Creek had accepted him like a born-and-raised Red Creekian.
“I was under the influence, I guess.” Dylan scratched his cheek. “But damn if I don’t feel exactly the same way being back here today.”
“I figured that.” Rogue hung one arm over the back of his chair. “Figured you’d found yourself a gal. But I agree, this place grows on a man.” A smirk curved his lips.
Killian set his forearms on the table. “Sure does. I mean, who knew this dustbowl in the middle of fucking nowhere would leave an impression.”
Jackson. “So we’re all agreed? We’re going to do this thing?”
The men looked at each other.
“I’m in.” Dylan shrugged. “Got nothin’ else going on.”
Rogue nodded.
“We’ll stay the week, the four of us getting to know each other, just like the old man wanted?” Jackson frowned. “Get the business sorted out between the four of us?”
“That’s the plan.” Killian curled his upper lip in a sneer. “Live in the house for a whole week and bond with each other.” He snorted.
The guys laughed, but Rogue pointed at Killian. “From what I hear around town, you found yourself someone to help pass the time.”
Killian grinned. “Sure did.” He looked at Jackson and Dylan. “And rumors are spreading about you two. You both fell for a local gal?”
Jackson nodded. “Afraid so.” He smiled to soften the words.
“Yep. Happy as a puppy with two tails.” Dylan stared off, looking lost in thought.
“What about you, little brother?” Killian winked at Rogue. “Don’t tell us you’re the only Walker boy without a happy ending?”
Rogue sat quietly for a few seconds. “Well, I wouldn’t want to be the one to ruin a perfect record.” He tried to keep from grinning, but his brothers smacked him on the back, laughing, and he let go with a smile.
For the next hour, they ate burgers, fries, and pie a la mode, and talked about the ladies they’d found and claimed in Red Creek. They discussed the company and pondered out loud their prospects for the future.
Cubby’s wife brought their bill to the table. “Well, you four are quite a sight, sittin’ here all lookin’ like peas in a pod.” Sherry cocked her ample hip. “You all decide if you’re stayin’ or goin’?”
The brothers smiled.
“Hard to believe, but it looks like we’ll be staying.” Jackson pulled out his wallet.
“Yeah, but you three cowboys forgot about that damn bonding.” Dylan grabbed the bill and handed it back to Sherry with a couple twenties. “Come back and ask us that same question again in a week.”
They all looked at each other, matching pleased expressions on their faces.
Killian tapped his belt buckle. “Damn if I don’t feel that these tell people we’re part of an exclusive club of some kind.”
“We are,” Jackson said. “The Walker brothers club.”
Rogue shook the hands of the men whom he now realized would be his family for the rest of his days. “I can’t wait to meet your ladies and for you to meet my Kit. Let’s get together soon.”
“You got it, Rogue.” Killian slapped him on the back. “Drive carefully.”
Rogue didn’t have to be told to be careful. He had more to live for than he ever thought possible.
Kit was waiting when Rogue drove up from his meeting with his brothers. As soon as he was parked she was out the door and in his arms. “How did it go?”
“Great.” He kissed her. “I think we’re going to be fine. Tomorrow I’m going to order them a pair of boots to match their belt buckle.”
“They’ll like them, I’m sure.” She took his hand and placed it on her belly. “Do you think he could make a really small pair of boots?”
Rogue laughed. “I’ll special order them.”
“I love you, Mr. Walker. You’re my Rogue Angel.”
He cradled her in his arms. “Just like your father promised, I’ll always take care of you.”
THE END
Be sure you’ve checked out the other
SONS OF DUSTY WALKER
The Sons of Dusty Walker: Dylan
(Book 1)
by Jodi Redford
Secrets and lies—the legacy of Dylan Walker’s existence. Ashamed of his status as a bastard son, Dylan found solace and a sense of identity as the lead bass guitarist for Truckstop Pickup. But with one phone call, his world is shaken to its core. Summoned to Kansas after the death of his father, Dylan discovers he has three brothers he knew nothing about. Reeling from that earth-shattering revelation, he figures life can’t throw him a bigger curveball. Until fate puts him face-to-face with the woman his heart refuses to forget...and her little boy. Who just happens to bear a striking resemblance to Dylan.
Never love a musician. That’s always been Zoe Chapman’s number one motto. Daughter of a legendary country star, she knew that truth better than anyone. Then she’d met Dylan. He’d stripped her of her defenses, and she’d fallen. Hard. Now he’s back in her world. A living, breathing, too-sinful-for-words personification of eve
rything she’s ever wanted. And can never have. Only Dylan is dead set on becoming a permanent fixture in their son's life. Determined to make her part of the package deal, he works at breaking down her walls again, and her resistance is slipping faster than her panties.
But there’s another secret Zoe’s hiding. And it could end up pushing Dylan away from her forever.
Find Dylan at www.jodiredford.com and on Amazon
An Excerpt from
The Sons of Dusty Walker: Dylan
Dylan ambled into the periodical aisle and scanned the options. Naturally his favorite—Guitar World—was noticeably absent, so he picked up the latest Time instead. A nearby fashion rag snagged his attention, mainly because the model on the cover had a smoldering gaze that reeled him in. He stood there like a complete dope, the magazine clutched in his hand, but his mind was a million miles away, steeped in an erotic memory. Gorgeous green eyes locked with his, peering straight into his soul. The sensuous slip-slide of their sweat-slickened bodies. Zoe’s nails digging into his ass, refusing to let him go, even when he buried himself so hard and deep within her, he swore he could feel her heartbeat. Or maybe it was the fierce mad rush of his own pulse as she annihilated his defenses. She was a danger to all of his carefully held rules. Don’t get close. Offer no promises. Forget her and move on.
The first two had been taken out of his hands with her refusal to give him her last name. But Rule Three was impossible. He’d never forget her. God knows he’d tried.
He thunked the magazine back in the rack and continued his shopping, adding a box of Benadryl to his stash in hopes of it helping him get some shut eye the rest of the week. The sound of a young child laughing broke through his concentration. Customers must have come in when he wasn’t paying attention. Time to get his ass back to Hazel before someone beat him to the front of the line.
Rounding the corner of the aisle, he spotted the petite blonde parked at the pharmacy counter. Damn, too slow.
He checked out the blonde’s heart-shaped posterior, his resignation shifting to appreciation. He’d gladly buy a round of beers for whoever was responsible for inventing yoga pants. Hell, he’d purchase them an entire distillery.
The female scraped her hair back and he spotted the hot pink streaks scattered in with the platinum locks. He wouldn’t have figured anyone around these parts for adopting an edgier style like that. Maybe she wasn’t local.
And didn’t that make things potentially interesting?
Hazel scooted up to her side of the counter and beamed a smile, instantly breaking up Dylan’s two-second happy parade quicker than a firehose set on full blast. Judging from the older woman’s response, the blonde wasn’t a stranger in town.
Just his damn luck. First female in a long time who stirred more than a passing fascination in him and he had to keep his mitts to himself.
“Zoe, dear. Perfect timing. I was about to give ya a ring to see about some private lessons for Ginger.”
Dylan jolted at the name. Holy shit. How damn weird was that? Here he’d been thinking about Zoe, and another one stood a couple feet in front of him. And it wasn’t even that common of a—
His thoughts rear-ending each other like a fifty car pileup, he jerked his attention back to the ass he’d so eagerly admired seconds ago. A tingle of déjà vu tripping through his synapses, he blinked. “Zoe?”
“Hm?” The blonde sent him a distracted look over her shoulder.
Shock punching him square in the solar plexus, he returned the gaze of the woman who’d haunted his dreams for the last four years.
He cataloged the exact moment Zoe registered who he was. Her poleaxed expression hinted that she was equally stunned by their unexpected reunion. He prayed that her silence was due to disbelief. They’d left things on good terms, but shit knows women tended to recall events in a wholly different light than most clueless men. And he wasn’t too proud to admit that he could be just as dimwitted as the rest of his gender.
Figuring he better say something rather than continuing to gape at her like a psycho, he cleared his throat. “Man, it’s good to see you.”
She opened her mouth, but the only sound that emerged was a wispy, distressed breath. He didn’t think it possible, but her coloring turned several shades whiter than Casper the Friendly Ghost. Suddenly alarmed that she might be moments away from passing out, he rushed forward—and collided with the little tike barreling across his path. The kid bounced off Dylan’s leg and tumbled onto the ground. Before he could reach for the boy, Zoe snapped out of her daze and hunkered to her knees, her shaking hand smoothing over the tot’s stick-straight brown hair. “Hunter, that’s why I keep telling you not to run in stores.”
“Yes, mama.”
The sweet childish voice uttering those two words sent another bolt of shock careening through Dylan. Zoe...was a mom? Desperately trying to process that thought, he slashed his attention to Hunter. As if he’d known he was the subject of deep scrutiny, the little boy popped his thumb in his mouth and peeked up at Dylan.
He stared into Hunter’s eyes. Everything surrounding Dylan tilted at a funny angle and a strange prickle of awareness hopscotched across his suddenly flushed skin. The tiny person looking back at him was a mirror of himself at that age. Honest to God, with that kind of resemblance, Hunter could be...
Hot and cold flashes racing inside him, he reluctantly tore his focus from the boy and met Zoe’s horrified gaze.
Find Dylan at www.jodiredford.com and Amazon
The Sons of Dusty Walker: Jackson
(Book 2)
by Randi Alexander
When rodeo bronc rider Jackson Walker’s father passes away, he’s shocked to find he’s not the only son of Dusty Walker. His dad had three other families at compass points around the country. When a stipulation in Dusty’s will requires him to live in his dad’s house and work at his company for one week, Jackson heads to Red Creek, Kansas to get it over with, so he can get the hell back to his regularly scheduled life.
Computer engineer Rori Hughes needs to solidify her position in Dusty’s company, but the only one of his four sons available is Jackson, and Rori has a mighty low opinion of rodeo cowboys. Finding inconsistencies in the computer files, Rori and Jackson work together to solve the mystery, but their constant contact fires a red-hot desire that burns wild between them.
Spending their days at Dusty’s opulent lakeside home, and their nights together making love, they both ignore the warning signs that point to their attraction becoming more than merely sexual. Jackson’s time in Red Creek is coming to an end, but can he follow his original plan and leave town, breaking away from smart, beautiful, sexy Rori?
Read the first chapter and find out where to get your copy at my website.
An Excerpt from
The Sons of Dusty Walker: Jackson
Jackson sat in his dad’s chair and opened the top file. West Virginia coal and gas plant production specification codes… The words didn’t even register as English. “Hell.” Jackson didn’t have enough fuel in him yet for this tedious shit. He stood, hiked up his jeans, and walked back down the hall to the small kitchen. Pouring a cup, he spotted a black ringed-binder on top of the refrigerator.
He pulled down the book and flipped it open. The first page had a newspaper article about Dusty Walker’s first day as owner of the newly re-incorporated company he and his wife had inherited from his father-in-law. “Huh.” So Dad had changed the company name. And his wife owned half, which probably explained why Dusty had stayed with her, the greedy asshole.
Jackson felt the heat of anger surface again, and shook his head. The guy was gone. Wasn’t it time to shove past this pissed-off phase and move on to…moving on?
He scanned through dozens of pages of news articles, the first half from actual newspapers, the later ones printed from online sites, all of them chronicling the rapid growth of the company under his father’s leadership. He had to admit, Dad had a crap-load of business sense.
“Hi
there.” The receptionist’s voice reached him from her desk.
“Hi. Is he here?” A deep female voice had Jackson cocking his head.
“He is. Let me—”
“Wait, which one is this, now?” That sultry voice again.
“It’s Jackson, the third son. He’s twenty-five. From Oregon.” Abby didn’t bother to lower her voice. She must not realize he was just around the corner. Or did she know he was there, and just didn’t care if she appeared professional or not
“So, would you like me to let Jackson know you’re here to see him?”
“Wait, is this the rodeo cowboy?” Ms. Sensual Voice sounded disappointed.
“Yes. That’s him.” A giggle. “Is that a problem?”
Jackson set down his cup and moved a few inches to peek around the wall. His jaw dropped.
Tall, maybe just a few inches shorter than his six-feet, two-inches, even in her flat…red high-tops? Different. Her jet-black hair shone in the bright light as it swung thick and straight, cut just at her shoulders. Her jeans clung to her curvy hips and a booty that made him forget to breathe. The graphic printed T-shirt strained at the press of her full breasts against the front of the material.
He ducked back into the kitchen and swallowed, recognizing the heat rushing through his body as blood racing from his head to his groin. Holy hell, she was the best thing he’d seen in this town, by a long shot.
“I was hoping…” Her sexy voice switched to a long sigh. “For one of the business-type brothers, but I was in Kansas City for two weeks setting up new servers for a startup company, and I really need to talk to one of Dusty’s heirs.”
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