Rogue: The Sons of Dusty Walker Read online

  Rogue stared out at the small town street, so different from what he was used to seeing. His mind was still blown with the bombshell news he’d received—he had three half-brothers and together they’d inherited a business worth half a billion located in this sleepy little hamlet in the middle of nowhere Kansas. “No, I’m staying an extra day, not going back to Texas till tomorrow. I need you to take me to the White-Wing Ranch, if that’s possible. I’ve rented one of their cabins for the night. Do you know how to get there?”

  “Why, certainly, no problem, sir. Let me cool you off, this August is turning out to be a scorcher.” The chauffeur turned up the air conditioner and headed north out of town. As the big black limo eased through Red Creek, Rogue noticed every eye was on it. He stared back, knowing he was practically invisible through the heavily tinted windows. That was fine with him, anonymity worked well with his plan. In passing, he gazed at the small shops, the people meandering down the sidewalk, and the tubs of fall flowers sitting by the parking meters. A typical Midwestern small town, as different from Austin, Texas, as night was from day.

  “How far is it?” Rogue asked, pouring himself a Scotch in a crystal glass from the small wet bar to his left. He needed something to calm him down. The whole idea that Dusty had treated his mother like she was some nobody trollop just pissed the hell out of him. He’d known they weren’t married. Even though he bore the Walker name, his mother hadn’t. What he wasn’t aware of was that Dusty had not only a wife, but four other women he supposedly loved as much as he’d claimed to love his mother, Marian Lofton. For all of his life, she’d never spoken one ill word against Dusty and it hurt her when Rogue did. So, he’d mostly suffered in silence. Doing that, like he did most things—alone. Even his name infuriated him. Who the hell names their kid Rogue? His mother had said it was a good name, a name of his father’s choice. She’d said it wasn’t a built-in insult, rather a testimony that he could accomplish anything he wanted all on his own. So he’d tried to think of himself as a rogue wave, a rogue stallion or a rogue wolf.

  A loner.

  “Just a few miles, sir. You’ll enjoy it out there, the Parkers are fine people. I can remember when White-Wing raised the best cattle in this part of Kansas.” The older man pushed his felt hat up on his head, peering at Rogue through the rearview mirror. “Drought and the bottlenecking of the beef market have put a lot of mom and pop ranches out of business. Dave and Sheila are just lucky they have that daughter of theirs. Katherine is doing everything she can to save their land. I just hope they can make a go of it, takes a lot of money to renovate a working ranch into a tourist destination.”

  Rogue was barely following the conversation. Instead, he was recalling what he’d read about the ranch: the pheasant hunts, fishing on the placid lake and the accommodations for weddings, reunions, corporate retreats and receptions—until he heard the name Katherine.

  He’d known a Katherine once…who was from Kansas. Rogue shook his head, dispelling the uncomfortable memory. Not possible. Besides, Kit’s last name had been Ross, not Parker. For a while, Rogue lost himself in the past. When he finally came out of his daze, he realized he’d never responded to the driver. “I’ve heard a lot of good things about White-Wing. I look forward to seeing it.”

  “Well, you don’t have to wait long. We’re here.” The chauffeur smiled as he pulled up to a beautiful rambling stone and cedar structure. “What time shall I call for you, sir?” He got out and opened Rogue’s door, then retrieved his leather bag from the trunk.

  “Tomorrow at this time should be good. I’ve arranged for a late flight.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Walker.” The man tipped his hat after Rogue handed him a folded bill. “I’ll be here when you’re ready. This is my card in case you need anything.”

  Rogue accepted the business card and pocketed it. Once the stretch had departed, he looked around curiously before entering the big double doors with the heavy wrought iron knockers. On every hand were sweeping pastures covered in waving grass, bordered by stands of mature trees. A few placid blue ponds dotted the pleasing landscape and there were smaller rustic cabins built in a half-moon shape around the central building. If he had more time, he would’ve enjoyed taking a ride and looking around.

  But not today. He had a date with four queens and a pitcher of beer.

  As soon as he stepped foot onto the cool terra cotta Spanish tile, Rogue felt a sense of tranquility wash over him like a spring rain. Dark Spanish-style furniture and rich jewel tones blended graciously with the wood paneling and stone accents. “May I help you, sir?” A pleasant female voice greeted him.

  Rogue passed by a round table with scrolled wrought iron legs bearing a huge bouquet of golden sunflowers to get to the check-in desk where a pretty older woman with salt and pepper hair waited for him. “Yes, ma’am, I’m Rogue Walker and I called about a room a couple of days ago. I’m here for the poker game.”

  An uncomfortable look came over her attractive face. “I see. Yes, that game…” Her voice trailed off, and she cleared her throat. “May I see your credit card?” He handed it to her, and she filled out some information on a laptop. “You’re a few hours early, but the cabin should be ready now. Here’s the key. I’m Sheila Parker and if there’s anything I can help you with, let me know.” She pushed an entry card across the counter to him. “Go out the side door and it’s one of the cabins on the south side, #9.” Sheila pointed across the room to the exit. “Enjoy your stay. I won’t say I hope you win, because my fool husband is playing and I’ll save my ‘good lucks’ for him.” Turning away, she mumbled, “Because he’s probably going to need them.”

  Women who muttered under their breath made Rogue nervous, so he moved on, passing by what had to be a restaurant or a dining room. He was assailed by the most wonderful aroma ever to greet his sense of smell. “Homemade wheat bread,” he groaned, a special weakness of his. He glanced into the dimly lit, comfortable looking eating area. Tables were set, but there was no one about. In fact, there was no one about anywhere. Rogue seemed to be alone.

  Stepping back out into the sunshine, he pulled his hat down to shade his eyes. Making his way across the yard, he wondered where the poker game would be held. Probably in the building he’d just left. He smiled, seeing that the accommodations were small log cabins. Whoever had designed the place hit the nail on the head with rustic appeal. Coming to his door, he started to put the key in – and noticed it was unlocked, ajar a couple of inches. With a gentle shove, he pushed it open and stepped into the generous sized suite. His eyes roved the room, taking in the big recliner, the heavy desk – but when he came to the focus of the room, he froze. “There’s somebody in my bed,” he mused under his breath.

  Walking quietly toward the big oak four-poster, Rogue felt like one of the three bears from the fairy tale. The only difference was the riot of luscious curls lying on his pillow were sable brown locks instead of golden ones. A brown velvet bedspread was thrown back to the foot, the only cover over the curvy female body was a thin baby blue sheet. He could see every dip and curve and the outline of a very intriguing heart-shaped bottom.

  Glancing down at his keycard, he noted the number nine, stepped backward and verified that he indeed was in the right cabin. “Well, this beats a mint on my pillow any damn day.”

  A sweet female sigh came from across the room, and Rogue returned to it like a rope had been dropped around his shoulders—the tug was strong. Heaven was smiling on him, because when he drew near, Sleeping Beauty rolled over and it became apparent she was sleeping in the nude. A pair of scrumptious round breasts with rosy pink nipples were winking at him like cherries topping an ice cream sundae. A delicate creamy arm was thrown over his little bedmate’s face, but Rogue didn’t mind, there was plenty of other good stuff to see. His cock rose to the occasion, and he had to reach down and adjust his package for comfort. With a cute little kick, she pushed the sheet farther down and now he was seeing a flat tummy and a narrow waist. If he didn’t do somethin
g fast he’d be treated to a centerfold peek at her feminine treasure.

  Should he awaken the fair maiden with a kiss?

  Probably not a good idea. Damn, sometimes he wished he wasn’t so gallant.

  Turning his back, he crossed his arms with a smirk. All of a sudden, he was feeling better. The worry of Dusty and his brothers seemed far away. Clearing his throat, Rogue announced, “Excuse me, I didn’t mean to barge in, but the door was standing open. I do believe, however, that you’re in my bed.” His bit his lip and smiled when he heard a gasp, the snap of a sheet and small bare feet padding on the floor, coming across the room toward him. Bowing his head, Rogue closed his eyes. Counting under his breath, he prepared himself for a blushing kissable vision voicing her abject apologies. Five, four, three, two…

  Not what he got.

  Wham! A fairly substantial pillow came crashing down on his very expensive beaver-skin cowboy hat.

  “What do you think you’re doing in my cabin, you pervert?”

  Rogue held his hands up, attempting to defend himself from the crashing satin covered weapon she was wielding quite ably.

  “Give me your key!” she demanded with a hiss.

  He held the plastic card out like a peace offering, keeping his eyes tightly shut. When he heard his small attacker moving away, he carefully opened one eye and had to laugh at the sight. Long dark hair hung down in corkscrew curls to butt level and the sheet trailed behind her like the long train of a bridal gown.

  “Follow me!” Miss Priss marched out the door and across the yard, gesturing grandly to another cabin. “This is #9! Mine is #6, the damn numeral must have spun upside down on the screw.”

  Rogue followed the sexy husky-from-sleep voice. Why was he feeling an odd sense of déjà vu? “I’m certain I can’t be held accountable for malfunctioning hardware and like I said before, your door was standing open.” His argument sounded good to him. “My name is Rogue Walker and I’d like to apologize for waking you from your cat nap.”

  A horrified gasp met his ears. “Rogue Walker?”

  Rogue had never heard his name said with that same degree of distaste before – but when he finally got close enough to lay eyes on the face that went along with the incredible body he’d ravished with his eyes – he understood.

  Standing before him in all of her glory was Kit Ross, the woman who’d been his partner in what had to have been the worst blind date in the history of mankind.

  Both of them stared at one another, their own memories crashing down on them like an unwelcome downpour...

  …back to the Texas Hill Country College Rodeo Finals six years before.

  “Just look at him, Beth.” Kit stared at Rogue Walker, unable to look away. He walked by her, completely unaware of her presence. He wore that ever present leather vest, but this time there was no shirt underneath and the muscles of his chest rippled, moving with the effort of carrying the saddle over his shoulder. Drops of perspiration glistened on his golden skin, running down between his pecs and over his chiseled abs. “Lord have mercy,” she whispered. Unconsciously Kit licked her lips, wishing she had the courage to go up and talk to him.

  “Quit lusting after our rival.” Beth teased. “You’re going to lose your competitive edge.”

  “I can’t help it.” Kit sighed, following his progress as he ambled toward the livestock chutes. “He’s perfect. I don’t know if I’m roping for the scholarship, the thrill, or just the chance of seeing him.” She kept her eyes on Rogue till he disappeared in the crowd. “Besides, you’re one to talk. You could eat Elijah Bowman up with a spoon.”

  “Here, hold your horse.” Beth handed Kit Hotshot’s reins. “There is a difference between me and you, though, my friend. After we ride, I’m going to go flirt shamelessly with Elijah and if I have my way, I’ll be saving a horse and riding a cowboy tonight.”

  Kit adjusted her goggles. She wished she didn’t have to wear them. But she was blind as a bat and if the dust from the arena got under her contacts during the ride, she would instantly be unable to function. “Come on. Let’s go watch. Rogue and Elijah ride second, we’re sixth tonight.”

  They found a spot on the fence out of the way but near enough to see the action. As she waited for her heartthrob to appear, she gazed around the arena. There were at least a thousand people crowded into the stands and it seemed they were all yelling or cheering as two cowboys raced behind a steer, bringing it to a halt in less than ten seconds. She hoped her team did far better than that. Smiling, she acknowledged how much she loved this sport. There was nothing as high energy as a rodeo, nor one that had as many hot men—especially one like Rogue Walker.

  Standing up on a lower rail so she could get a good look, Kit leaned over the top and folded her hands together. They were shaking a bit, but that was normal. Her adrenaline always ran high before a ride. A dozen cowboys milled around behind them. Some called out their names and others hurried to get ready for one event or another. The bronc riders had already finished but the bull riders would compete after team roping.

  The sound of feminine laughter wafted over the other noise. Kit looked back over her shoulder and saw one of the barrel racers clinging to a handsome cowboy. He had his fingers hooked into one of her belt loops as if he was afraid she’d get away. Kit sighed. Barrel racers were a different breed, she and Beth chose to compete with the guys and some welcomed them, some resented them—and others, like Rogue, ignored her for the most part. And why wouldn’t he? He could have any woman here. Why would he be interested in a no-frills tomboy when he could have a rodeo queen or a buckle bunny on his arm?

  “There they are,” Beth said, pointing toward the boxes. Kit could see Elijah and Rogue astride their mounts, waiting tensely for the moment to arrive. “Go!” Elijah called and the steer ran. As soon as the barrier was released, Elijah who was the header, tossed his rope around the steer’s horns. Once the four-hundred pound animal was under control, he turned his horse slightly to the side so Rogue, the heeler, had a clear view of the steer’s hind legs. Kit held her breath. “Go, Rogue!” she whispered, her eyes devouring him. She was a heeler too, so she knew how critical the next step was. Rogue threw his rope under the steer’s feet, pulling up to secure both legs inside the loop. Stopping his horse, he backed it up and the horn blew. Kit’s eyes flew to the score board. Five point six seconds. “Good score.” She looked over her shoulder at Beth. “Think we can beat that?”

  “Hell yeah,” Beth answered. “Let’s do it.”

  * * *

  Rogue Walker and Elijah Bowman slapped the rodeo dust off their jeans, arguing over what went wrong—again. The Aggie roping team had kicked their butts for the third time in a row and frankly, they were sick of it.

  “How in the hell are those two scrawny little women out roping us?” Rogue wiped his sweaty face on his shirt sleeve.

  Elijah let out a long whistling sigh. “I don’t know, Rogue. Kit Ross is damn good and her header is no slouch. Their timing is uncanny.”

  “That’s what they used to say about us.” Rogue led his horse up the ramp and into the gooseneck trailer. “Rest, girl. We’ll get back on the road tomorrow.” He checked Mariah’s hay and water before joining Elijah at the truck. “I need a drink. How about you?”

  Elijah was digging in the glove compartment. “Shit. I thought I had some condoms put back.”

  Laughing, Rogue watched his friend’s somewhat panicked search. “Do you have a sexual emergency?” He pulled his wallet from his back pocket. “If you do, I can let you borrow one.”

  Elijah turned, grinning, holding out his hand. “Thanks, I didn’t want to have to drive to town.”

  “I hear you, we are out in the boondocks.” The arena where they were competing was housed in a rural exhibition hall between Bryan-College Station and Brenham. The nearest convenience store was probably ten or fifteen miles away. “They don’t exactly stock these in the restrooms in this Bible-belt community. So, you gotta hot date, huh?”

  Elija
h grinned. “Actually, I do.”

  Rogue grunted. “I don’t know how you get as much action as you do. What am I doing wrong?” He looked at his friend. Elijah wasn’t a bad-looking dude with his dirty blond hair and wide smile.

  “Well, where do I begin?” Elijah drawled. “You have a full class load at Texas, you try to take care of your mother since your absentee father is a no-count son-of-a-bitch, and you’re starting your own wildcatting business on the side. Rogue, you don’t have the time or the energy to chase women.”

  “Just because I’m busy doesn’t mean I don’t need to get laid occasionally,” Rogue muttered, feeling horny at the thought.

  Elijah paused, started to walk, stopped, then turned around. “Look, I’m going to get a motel room. I need a shower. Why don’t you come with me, clean up and I’ll call my date. She has a friend, I can probably fix you up.”

  Shaking his head, Rogue stepped up to Elijah. “I’ll go in half on the room, I could use a shower too. But I don’t have much luck with double dates, especially a blind one.”

  “You’re welcome to the shower, bud, but you’ll have to get your own room if you don’t want to sleep with the horses. I’m planning on needing some privacy.” With that, he went around to the driver’s side. “You with me or are you gonna hang out here?”

  They’d spent many nights in the cramped quarters of the gooseneck, and he had no problem in doing it again tonight. Right now, a shower sounded too good to pass up. “I’m coming with you.” He piled in and rolled the window down, leaning back against the headrest. “Is she hot?”

  “Mine or yours?”

  Rogue snorted. “Both.” Was he considering this? His cock twitched at the thought. How long had it been since a woman had gone down on him?

  “We won’t have to put a bag over their heads.” Elijah pulled his hat down over his eyes. “I’m not picking out china, Rogue. I just need pussy.”