Dylan: The Sons of Dusty Walker

by Redford, Jodi

  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 world class butt he’d 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 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.

  Mother. Fucker.

  CHAPTER TWO

  There’s no way this is happening. Any moment now she’d wake up, drenched in sweat, her heart pounding from yet another nightmare where her past showed up out of the blue to bite her in the ass. Even as she tried to convince herself of that unlikely outcome, Zoe clung to the possibility with everything she had.

  Dylan wasn’t fading from her vision. No, he remained rooted in place, the shock holding his gorgeous features hostage telling her all she needed to know. Hunter’s resemblance to him hadn’t gone unnoticed, and Dylan’s mind was no doubt spinning.

  She should have prepared better for this day. And exactly how would that have made any of this easier? It wouldn’t have. There was no smooth way to convey the news that Dylan had a son he’d known nothing about.

  A rustling noise announced that Hazel had abandoned her station behind the pharmacy counter. Zoe broke gazes with Dylan and glanced up at the older woman hovering over them like a clucking mother hen.

  “You know who always cures any boo-boo? Goofy.” Hazel stooped and affixed a Band-Aid on Hunter’s knee.

  Zoe didn’t have the heart to tell Hazel that Hunter was perfectly fine. Besides, the Band-Aid seemed to have accomplished the feat of distracting Hunter from the drama brewing around him. She was half tempted to ask for her own Goofy bandage in hopes of it accomplishing the same miracle for her.

  Hazel’s keen stare bounced between her and Dylan. “You two are acquainted?”

  Oh Lord. This definitely wasn’t a conversation she wanted to get into with one of the biggest busybodies in Red Creek. Even without the dirty details at her disposal, Hazel would waste no time getting on the phone with her cronies to spill the beans that Zoe had run into a strange man and acted weird. By the end of the day they’d be taking bets on who Dylan was. Old flame? Someone she owed money to? Or maybe even a long lost brother she never told anyone about? It didn’t help that she kept her personal life a mystery. No one really knew who she was. They didn’t know about her dad. And they never would.

  Dylan pushed to his feet and surprised her by helping her up. Well, the good news was he hadn’t started yelling at her. Yet. He kept his intense focus trained on her face. “Zoe and I are old friends. Haven’t seen each other in nearly four years.”

  “Ain’t that somethin’.” Hazel made another of her clucking noises. Her attention drifted down to Hunter, and Zoe could practically hear the woman doing the calculations in her head.

  Shit. Desperate to get out of there before Hazel or Dylan launched into their own version of the Spanish Inquisition, Zoe nudged the back of Hunter’s head with her hand. “Time to go, Boo Bear. Callie and Josh are waiting for us.”

  As expected, Hunter’s eyes lit up at mention of his best bud. Squealing in excitement, he jumped to his feet and bounced in place like a bunny loaded up on sugar. At least she didn’t have to worry about finding a subtle way to drag him out of there. She shot Hazel a frazzled look. “Sorry, I know you wanted to chat about Ginger. Feel free to call me at the house tomorrow and we’ll get something set up.”

  “But what about your prescription?”

  “No rush. I can pick it up later.” She spun on her heel and grabbed Hunter’s waving arm, determinedly steering him toward the exit.

  “Zoe.” Dylan’s whiskey baritone whipped in her direction, attempting to lasso her to a halt. Damn, damn, damn. Keep moving. “Sorry, we’ll have to catch up another time.”

  She all but busted through the front door, swinging Hunter in front of her. Ragged breaths scraping her lungs, she frantically scanned the parked vehicles for her beat up Chevy truck before realizing it was right in front of her. Almost out of the danger zone. She hauled Hunter into her arms and dashed to the passenger side. Anchoring him against her hip, she swung open the door and shoved the harness to the side of his child seat. Not daring to shoot a look over her shoulder to see if Dylan was headed her way, she plopped Hunter in place and buckled him in. Blissfully ignorant of the fact that his mama was seconds from officially losing her shit, he kicked the back of the seat in front of him. She snatched his sandaled foot before he could wobble the seat again. “No, remember what we talked about?”

  Hunter frowned like he’d suddenly acquired a spontaneous case of amnesia.

  Fuck it. She had bigger problems on her plate than her son’s obsession with karate chopping inanimate objects with his leg. She slammed the door shut and rushed to her side. Sliding behind the wheel, she fumbled the key into the ignition and cranked on the engine. She breathed a sigh of relief that had nothing to do with the cold air blasting from the AC. The passenger door cracked open and she swung her panicked gaze to the right just as Dylan climbed in the truck.

  He crooked his arm on the seat back and pinned her with a cool stare. “Did you honestly think I’d let you drive off?”

  “Dylan, you have to get out of my truck.”

  “Why?”

  Because she couldn’t handle being in this confined space with him. The pharmacy had been one thing. Plus she’d had the benefit of shock addling her brain and her response to him. God, she didn’t need to know that he still possessed this overwhelming ability to destroy her equilibrium. Not now. Not when she needed to keep her wits together. What little of them she still had left. She couldn’t tell him any of that. So she settled on the other valid reason for kicking him out of her vehicle. “We’ve given Hazel a mountain of gossip as it is. If she sees you in here there’ll be no end to it.”

  “Trus
t me, the gossip I’m already feeding this town towers over whatever puny hill she’s building over us, darlin’.”

  It’d been a lifetime since she’d heard that endearment coming from his too-sinful-for-words mouth. It was enough to momentarily distract her from the rest of what he’d said. “What do you mean? You’re not even from around here.”

  “Yeah, but my old man is.” He jutted his chin toward the building behind them.

  She didn’t need to turn her head to know where he was referring to. D. Walker Mineral Company was practically a historical landmark in Red Creek. Wait a minute. She blinked at Dylan. “You’re one of those Walkers?”

  He grimaced. “I see you’re familiar with the scandal.”

  “Everyone within a fifty mile radius is.” She rubbed her temples. How insane was it that she’d never once considered the connection? Countless times she’d driven past D. Walker Mineral and it hadn’t triggered the slightest thought of Dylan. For Pete’s Sake, even the initials were the same! But oh no, the majority of times she stewed in her memories of Dylan it was for an entirely different reason. And usually she was feeling lonely and desperately needed to be held. Then of course she was reminded of him every single time she looked at Hunter.

  Reminded of her son’s presence, she glanced behind Dylan’s seat. Hunter was already sound asleep, his bout of manic excitement apparently putting him down for the count. Thank goodness. At least that was one less thing for her to stress over. She returned her attention to Dylan. “You never mentioned Dusty was your dad.”

  “Why would I? Not like you two ran in the same circles. Hell, how was I supposed to know you even lived in the same town? You didn’t exactly share much in the way of personal details about your life. I don’t even know your damn last name.”

  Guilt sat like a boulder between her shoulder blades. “It’s Chapman.” It wasn’t the surname on her birth certificate, but far as she was concerned, it was her name. When she’d turned eighteen she’d filed the necessary documents to have it legally changed, cutting that connection to her old life and ensuring her dad had no way of tracking her down. Not that she thought he would. He hadn’t put much effort into being there when she was growing up, so no reason for him to change his MO now she was an adult.

  “And is Hunter’s last name Chapman?” Dylan’s gaze drilled into hers. “Or Walker?”

  She swallowed hard, unable to break his stare. Yeah, she’d all but known he’d figured it out, but it was surreal hearing him toss it out there in the open. Especially since it was a secret she’d held inside her for so long. “It’s Chapman.”

  “Good.”

  His pronouncement and the flatness of his tone surprised her. She’d thought for sure he’d be spitting nails over his family name being left off of Hunter’s birth certificate. But then she recalled the circumstances that’d brought him to Red Creek. “I take it you weren’t close with Dusty.”

  “He spent a grand sum of one week a month with me. Not much time there for us to bond.”

  The total lack of emotion in his voice and expression pinched at her heart. She recognized the wall he’d erected when it came to his father. It was achingly familiar because she’d hand- chiseled her own version from the time she was five years old up until the present. Her dad wasn’t exactly a horrible person, but he had no place being a father. He sucked at it. Big time. Only thing he possibly sucked at more was being a husband. Hence the reason her parents split up four months into their marriage. Her mom had insisted it was due to the utter futility of sustaining a relationship with a music man. Zoe didn’t doubt she was right, but it probably also had something to do with her dad’s reluctance to give up his week-long drunken benders and his dalliances with big-breasted groupies.

  Tugging her thoughts from her own familial discord, she picked nervously at the leather stitching on the steering wheel. “How long are you in town for?”

  “A week. It’s part of the arrangement of the will.” His gaze remained fused to her face. “But I don’t want to talk about any of that. Were you ever plannin’ to tell me about Hunter?”

  Lying would have been the easy route out. And also cowardly. “No.”

  A dark emotion flashed in his eyes. “Don’t you think I deserved to know?”

  “Yes. I’m not saying what I did was right. But I didn’t want to put that burden on you.”

  “Goddamn it, Zoe. He’s my son. In what fucked up world would I consider him a burden?”

  Oh, she knew too well how possible it was. She was living proof. Her parents had even been the same age as her and Dylan when Zoe entered the picture as an oopsy. So when she’d seen that positive sign on the pregnancy stick four years ago, all she could think was that the cycle was repeating itself. And when she’d held Hunter in her arms for the first time eight and a half months later, she’d vowed he’d never experience the same fucked up childhood she’d had. He didn’t need an absentee dad who occasionally showed up for special occasions, usually wasted off his ass and with a big-boobed bimbo on his arm. No, she’d give Hunter enough love he wouldn’t miss having a daddy around.

  “You have your career. You’re on the road constantly. When would you have time to be a full time dad?” Yes, it hadn’t been right to keep their son a secret from him, but she also wouldn’t let Dylan disrupt their lives. Hunter needed stability, not someone who’d playact at being a dad and then move on when the novelty wore off.

  He stared at her. “You honestly think I’d put my career before my son?”

  “It happens.”

  “You don’t know me worth shit if you believe that of me.”

  “You’re right. I don’t really know you. We had what, a day together?” Her flippancy was for show. She couldn’t let him know how much he’d meant to her. How much he continued to mean to her. There was no future for them. She couldn’t be with a musician. Giving into her weakness for him once had ended up with a three-year old consequence. As much as she loved Hunter and thanked God every day for him, there was no way she was going down that road again with his daddy.

  Without warning, Dylan leaned forward and slid his hand behind her head. She jolted. “W-what are you doing?”

  “Don’t ever downplay what we shared.” The fierceness of his expression was in direct opposition to the gentle stroke of his fingers through her hair. “Not only did we produce a child from it, it was something that doesn’t come around very often. At least not for me. I felt the connection, and I’m willin’ to bet you did too.”

  If he didn’t stop touching her soon she was going to scream. Or rip his clothes off and beg him to fuck her until she screamed for an entirely different reason than frustration. Pulse drumming in overtime, she attempted to pull her head back. That only prompted him to follow along with her. The focused way he stared at her mouth made every square inch of her tingle. It was all too easy to recall how effortlessly she melted under his kisses. The man knew how to use his mouth and tongue. Everywhere. Spread out beneath him, her body had been an instrument he’d played with devastating care and ease. And that was before he’d slid inside her, his cock hard, thick, and hot. He’d made love to her with an intensity that’d been sweet, raw, and consuming. With him, the impossible had happened—the aching loneliness that’d been her constant companion had disappeared. There’d been no room for it so long as she was wrapped in Dylan’s arms.

  “D-don’t read too much into it.” The words were as much for her as him.

  “Yeah? So you’re tellin’ me that if I kiss you right now, it won’t mean a thing to you?”

  She swallowed. The desire to encourage his challenge whispered an enticement through her. Didn’t matter that it’d be a dangerously foolish thing to do. With Dylan, her brain had always been on a permanent vacation. “I-it won’t.”

  His eyes darkened, that look of determination on his face sending a thrilling note of anticipation singing through her blood. He leaned across the console, his hand tightening on her nape. The stir of his breath mixi
ng with hers revved her pulse another notch. Eyes drifting shut, she waited for the luscious pressure of his lips sliding over hers. A jarring rap rattled the window behind her, making her jump and she nearly banged her nose into Dylan’s. She whipped her head around, fully expecting to see Hazel’s hawk gaze trained on them through the pane of glass. Instead she was met with Callie Rogers’s grinning curiosity.

  Zoe killed a groan. Saved by the bell. Or in this case, the best friend with impeccable timing. Planting her palm on Dylan’s chest, she covertly nudged him back a pace. The unfortunate aspect of that maneuver was it gave her the opportunity to feel the solidness of those glorious muscles straining his T-shirt. Good Lord, how could she have forgotten how built he was?

  Desperate to steer her wayward thoughts back on track, she jerked her hand away and buzzed the window down. She cleared her throat roughly and tried for a casual expression. “Hey.”

  Callie’s gaze sparkled. “Hey yourself. Was beginning to wonder what was taking you so long, but looks like I’m interrupting something important. Should I catch up with ya later?”

  Zoe’s emphatic, “No.” beat Dylan’s equally firm, “Yes.”, but only by a millisecond.

  Callie chuckled. No doubt she was going to have a field day with this one. “Aren’t y’all just too cute for words?” Paying no heed to Zoe’s frustrated glare, Callie ducked down and thrust her hand through the window toward Dylan. “Don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Callie.”

  Dylan removed his cap and returned the handshake with his own introduction. Normally Zoe would have felt unbearably rude for not dispensing the niceties herself but it was a damn miracle her tongue could even function.

  Callie’s eyes suddenly widened. “Oh my gosh, you’re Dylan Walker.” She slashed an accusing stare to Zoe. “How long have you been keeping this a secret, you traitor?”

  Zoe’s heart skipped a beat—until she realized that Callie’s scolding likely had nothing to do with Dylan being Hunter’s daddy. Callie was a big fan of Truckstop Pickup. It was excruciatingly difficult tuning out her best friend’s constant gushing whenever one their songs came on the radio. It was even tougher muting her own responses to the hauntingly sweet chords of Dylan’s guitar solo on Summer Rain. Those notes always seemed like a connection to him, one that broke the boundaries of time and distance. Fanciful but true. “I haven’t been keeping anything a secret. Nothing’s going on.”