Dylan: The Sons of Dusty Walker

by Redford, Jodi

  Literally. He’d knocked into her hard enough, she’d stumbled backward. Thankfully his reflexes kicked in and he grabbed her before she crashed against the display of beef jerky and potato chips. His arms had instinctively hugged her waist tight and she’d leaned upon him, her breath a faint flutter and pupils dilating as she stared at his mouth. Although he’d never hooked up with a woman he’d only known a whole whoppin’ two seconds, a dazzling sense of recognition had settled over him. Not only would he know this stranger intimately before the night was done, she’d have a lasting impact on him the rest of his days.

  Fuck, did he hit the nail on the head with that premonition. “You knew who I was.” He didn’t state it as an inquiry. What she was telling him, it left no room for doubt.

  “Yes.” Her gaze turned beseeching. “I didn’t seek you out though. I wasn’t some crazy groupie looking to have a one night stand.”

  He believed her. God knows he’d been around plenty of those types, he knew how to recognize them. And Zoe definitely hadn’t been—and wasn’t—one. While this new revelation spun in his brain his thoughts kept returning to her earlier admission. “You said you wanted nothing more to do with the music scene. Were you in the biz?”

  It would explain why she was now teaching music. He knew a few artists who’d grown weary of the road and found gigs that kept them closer to home.

  “No.”

  Her adamant denial was a little too fast in coming. He’d bet his inheritance she wasn’t telling him the whole story. Maybe she hadn’t been a musician herself. Didn’t mean she hadn’t been involved with one. The possibility sat like a two-ton elephant on his chest. Yeah, it was caveman of him, but he didn’t like the prospect of Zoe with any lover but him, even if that supposed other man was a ghost of her faraway past. He wanted to ask her more, but he wouldn’t push her. Not yet.

  He glanced at Hunter, who was yawning now that his tiny belly was full. “How about we all work this pizza off by taking a walk down by the lake?”

  Zoe looked like she was on the verge of arguing, but surprised him by nodding instead. “It’ll be a good way to wake up before I hit the road.”

  Damn stubborn woman. Keeping that thought to himself, he stood and helped her scoot back her chair. Hunter climbed down from her lap and peeked toward the pool.

  Zoe playfully tugged the cowlick sticking up from his crown. “Don’t even think about it, Boo Bear. You’re not wearing your swim trunks.”

  Dylan scratched his jaw. “Sorry, I shoulda suggested you bring them.” Yep, that World’s Best Dad award was looking slimmer and slimmer.

  “It’s okay. You would never have gotten us out of the pool if we did.”

  Didn’t sound like a problem to him. In fact, he was enjoying the idea of Zoe and Hunter being around more and more.

  That thought kept cycling through his mind during their trip down to the docks. He wanted to spend all the time he could with Hunter. And Zoe. An hour here and there wasn’t gonna cut it.

  Hunter pointed to the Wave Runner moored at the dock and Zoe chuckled. “That would be a big fat nope, Little Man.”

  A better opening couldn’t have landed in Dylan’s hands. “We’ve got lots of fun toys.” Besides the Jet Ski, there were the boats, the pontoon, and just about every other form of water entertainment you could think of. “We can use any of them we want.” He feigned deep contemplation. “More I think on it, might make sense to have you stay here so we can avail ourselves of all of this stuff.”

  Zoe twitched her nose. “That’s incredibly generous of you, but like I said, I give lessons out of my home. I can’t be making that trip every day.”

  If she thought he’d be that easily deterred, she had another think comin’. “Okay, then I can hang out at your place and keep Hunter company while you’re doin’ your lessons.”

  Zoe worked her mouth, but no words came out. It was damn tough not hootin’ in victory. Instead he settled for picking up a stone and skipping it across the placid surface of the lake. Hunter jumped up and down before bopping along the bank, presumably searching for his own perfect rock to throw. Zoe crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not saying you don’t have every right to spend time with your son, but you need to know he requires adjusting time.”

  He nodded in Hunter’s direction. “Yeah, I can see how he’s having difficulty coping.”

  “Damn it, please don’t be glib about this.”

  “I’m not, darlin’. I get it.” He scooted closer to her and cupped her cheek. “You’re scared spit-less. So am I. But you have the benefit of knowing what the hell you’re doing when it comes to raising a kid.”

  She stared at his lips. The moment felt like it’d been plucked from time. Only instead of standing in a Nashville gas station, they were in Dusty’s backyard. Fucking weird.

  Her hand drifted to his ribcage. He wasn’t sure she was even aware of the way her fingertips brushed him through the knit of his T-shirt. He was damn certain she didn’t know the effect she was having on parts of him south of the border. She scored her nails along the ridge of his abs, heading for his navel. “You have to let them know you’re the one in charge.”

  It took several beats for him to realize she was talking about child rearing and not something else. Though considering the tantalizing placement of her hand, she definitely coulda been referrin’ to something else. He slid his palm to her nape and followed the delicate arch of her neck. “And what’s the best means of doin’ that?”

  “For starters, Hunter shouldn’t be playing unsupervised over there.”

  He reversed course and slid his fingers through Zoe’s silky fine hair and tugged slightly. She shivered, a soft breath catching in her throat.

  “Hunter, get up here where we can see you,” he called without removing his gaze from Zoe’s.

  “Okay.”

  “Good boy.” Dylan wrapped Zoe’s hair around his fist and coaxed her closer.

  A gasp broke from her. “I can’t—”

  He stopped the remainder of her words with his mouth.

  Four years of aching for her went into his kiss. He wished he could say some finesse went in there too, but likely not. Judging from the hungry way she sucked at his tongue, she wasn’t complaining. A carnal groan tunneling all the way from his belly, he slid his other arm around her, molding her snug to him. If she hadn’t been aware of his erection, she sure as hell was now. No hiding the monster bulge denting his fly.

  He re-angled his approach, gliding his tongue deeper into her mouth, exploring every velvety nook and cranny. Through the soft cotton of her dress, he detected the hardened nubs of her nipples poking against his torso, begging for attention. If they’d been anywhere else and without their three-year-old standing by as witness, Dylan would have loosened the pearl buttons keeping him from those gorgeous breasts and worshipped her to his heart’s content. Instead he settled for cupping some side-boob.

  Zoe pulled away from him with a jolt. Her breathing a staccato accompaniment to his ragged inhalations, she stared at him. “That was not supposed to happen.”

  “You wanting it to be so doesn’t make it a reality, darlin’. There’s something between us. Always has been. Stop fighting it.”

  She shook her head furiously. “You’re not going to sweet talk and French kiss your way into my bed, Dylan. I’m not some horny twenty-year-old anymore. I have a child and need to be responsible.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Hunter is our child. And I fully intend to be responsible for him too.”

  “You’re going to be here for a matter of days. This is my life. Day in and day out. And I don’t regret one moment of it. But don’t think that you showing up once in a blue moon when you feel like it is even remotely equal to what Hunter needs. To what I need.”

  Her words were like a punch to his gut. “I would never do that.” She was preaching to the choir. He knew too well what it was like having a dad who wasn’t around. No way in hell he’d do that to Hunter. And it was mighty unf
air of her to lay that shit on his doorstep when he hadn’t even known of his son’s existence before today. “If you’d come to me back then, I wouldn’t have shirked my responsibility. That’s not the kind of man I am, Zoe.” Damn her for assuming otherwise.

  She frowned. “I know that. It’s part of the reason I didn’t say anything to you. I already told you I didn’t want to put that burden on you.”

  He plowed his hands through his hair. She was speaking in circles. “One minute you’re reading me the riot act for not being there when you needed me, and the next you’re saying you didn’t want me there. Which is it, Zoe?”

  Judging from her expression, she was just as confused as him. Which made no damn sense. “I didn’t—” She halted her rebuttal so fast, it was a miracle her tongue didn’t get whiplash. For a brief flash that vulnerability he’d noticed earlier returned. Just as quick as it appeared she locked it down. She glanced at him, her gaze guarded. “That remark didn’t have anything to do with you. So don’t take it as me giving you grief. Because I wasn’t.”

  Her admission—odd as it was—eased the sting of being wrongfully accused of neglect on his part. “Then what were you referrin’ to?”

  “Nothing. It’s not important to this conversation.”

  When folks said shit like that, nine times out of ten it was the opposite of the truth. He was beginning to believe there was a whole lotta stuff going on with Zoe that she wasn’t telling him about. And that presented a big ass problem in his book. Because as long as she kept hiding herself from him there was no way they could move away from the past.

  And into what? A possible future that she seemed dead set on not letting him be a part of with her?

  Zoe straightened the front of her dress and walked to the bare patch of lawn where Hunter was poking a small ant hill with a stick he’d found. She snagged his free hand. “Time to go, Boo Bear.”

  Dylan stepped in the middle of her path, halting her progress toward the house. Tearing his gaze from her shuttered one, he dropped onto his haunches and grinned at Hunter. “I’m gonna come visit ya tomorrow. You a fan of ice cream?”

  His eyes lighting up more brilliantly than a sky full of Fourth of July fireworks, Hunter nodded and belted out a “Yeah!” that nearly took out Dylan’s hearing.

  “Me too.” Resisting the urge to shake his head to clear the ringing from his ears, Dylan made a fist. His heart nearly doubled in size when Hunter balled his tiny hand and bumped his knuckles against Dylan’s with an exuberant whoop.

  Amazing how your life could change in the blink of an eye. He’d thought nothing could flatten him on his ass like learning he had three brothers he’d known nothing about. Now he had a kid. Some guys would probably be running for the hills right about now. The thought wasn’t even an option in Dylan’s mind.

  He straightened and scanned Zoe’s face. A fraction of the shield she’d erected had disintegrated but a healthy dose of uncertainty lingered. Letting her continue to build this wall between them? Not an option. Not when he had so much at stake. He’d let her walk away from him once before. Never again.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The insistent buzz of his cellphone snapped Dylan awake. Blinking away the grogginess swimming in his vision, he stared at the glowing red numbers on the alarm clock. Three in the morning. Who the fuck would be calling him this early? He froze as a possibility hit him. Maybe it was Zoe and something had happened to Hunter.

  He whipped the sheets and comforter back and leapt from the bed. Nearly tripping over his own feet, he skidded to his discarded jeans. Damn it, why the hell did he leave his phone in the pocket? What if it’d gone dead and he’d missed this call?

  Fingers shaking, he fished the device loose, his heart in the pit of his stomach as he peered anxiously at the caller ID. It wasn’t Zoe, but Malcom Flynn, Truckstop Pickup’s drummer. Dylan’s racing pulse slowly downshifted to normal. Irritation began to replace his adrenalin-fueled panic. He let every ounce of his grumpiness be known as he clicked the Talk button and barked into the receiver. “Do you have any idea what goddamn time it is?”

  “Mornin’ to you too, Sunshine. If you don’t wanna be disturbed there’s a little thing called a vibrate setting.”

  Grumbling under his breath, Dylan stalked back to the bed and climbed beneath the sheets. “Whatever you’re calling me about better be damn important.”

  “What if I just wanted to chitchat?”

  “Then I’m hanging up on your ass.” He started to do just that, but Malcom’s exaggerated exhalation stalled him short.

  “This stupid disagreement between you and Luke needs to be put to rest. It’s affecting the entire band. I made a comment to Trinity that I’m just not feeling the lyrics for the new song she’s working on and she kneed me in the balls.”

  Dylan snorted. “Well, what’d ya expect would happen, ya dumbass? You know how sensitive Trin can be.” Their backup vocalist/occasional song mistress was a force to be reckoned with on and off the stage. Best for the male members of the band to keep their distance when she was in one of her ornery moods. Which was pretty much every day ending in a Y.

  “I’ve been thinkin’...maybe you should be the big one and tell Luke you’re sorry.”

  Dylan glared at the shadowed ceiling. “Why the hell would I do that? I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “You shoulda signed his birthday card.”

  “That fucking crybaby can get over it. Jesus. I didn’t slight him on purpose. I was outta town. The man needs to learn my life doesn’t revolve around him.”

  A brief silence fell on the other side of the line. “It’s hard for Luke to reconcile that fact. We’ve talked about that.”

  “Yeah, because he’s got an ego that can barely fit on the stage much less in a room populated with us lesser beings,” Dylan ground out.

  “He is what he is, and you know that. You also know that he’s got a soft spot for you that doesn’t necessarily extend to the rest of us. It hurt him that your name wasn’t on that card.”

  A tiny niggle of guilt wormed its way through Dylan. He hadn’t really looked at it that way. While it was certainly true that he and Luke constantly butted heads, they also shared a strange bond that left him as equally baffled as it did Malcom and the others. Luke was a self-centered prick, but deep down there was another side to him lurking beneath the surface. Every once in a while Dylan would catch a glimpse of it. There was a certain loneliness that clung to Luke, and sometimes it made him feel sorry for the man. But unlike his bandmates, Dylan didn’t pussyfoot around Luke and cater to his drama. He suspected that’s why Luke sought his company out more than he did the others.

  He tweaked the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “I don’t have time to deal with this right now. You all are just gonna have to figure shit out on your own.”

  “What could be so important that it preempts mending fences with Luke?”

  Dylan filled Malcom in on Dusty’s death and the terms of the will keeping Dylan in Red Creek. He left out the part about his reunion with Zoe and discovering he had a son. Some things were better revealed in person. Plus he really didn’t want to be on the phone for the next two hours dealing with Malcom’s reaction to the news.

  “Sorry about your pops, man. Anything I can do?”

  “Just hold down the fort back home. And try to keep Trin from nailing any more of our guys in the nads.”

  “Fuck, that’s a full time job in itself.”

  Chuckling, he exchanged goodbyes with Malcom and hung up. After checking the status of his battery and deeming it fine for the time being, he set his cell on the night stand and folded his arms behind his head. Sleep decided to elude him now that he was keyed up from his conversation with Mal.

  Heaving a disgruntled breath, he kicked off the covers and padded downstairs to the kitchen. He cracked open the fridge and surveyed his choices. Too damn early for a beer, though God knows it was tempting after the day he had. Shit, make that the last seve
nty-two-plus hours. Had it really been that long since he sat in the lawyer’s office? It almost seemed like a lifetime ago.

  He grabbed the carton of orange juice and fetched a glass. His mom would be proud of him for bypassing the Budweiser and getting his daily allotment of vitamin C.

  Damn, Georgianna. He still needed to tell her about his half-brothers. And the fact that she was a grandma. That last part would hopefully help ease the pain of the other thing. He’d always noticed the wistful expression on her face whenever someone came into her resale shop pushing a stroller. The majority of the time those babies didn’t make it outside without getting their chubby little cheeks pinched by Georgianna. Hunter better be prepared for some serious spoiling.

  That thought naturally sparked him wondering about his son’s other set of grandparents. Zoe never once mentioned anything about them. Not that it was necessarily weird. He rarely talked about Dusty, and he hadn’t really had much chance to bring up Georgianna, seeing how his mind was so damn scattered these days.

  Still, he should make a point of asking her. At the very least, he needed to be aware if her dad had a loaded rifle that he intended to use on Dylan for getting his precious daughter knocked up. Steeling himself for that possibility, Dylan returned the carton of OJ to its shelf in the fridge and carried his glass to the panoramic windows overlooking the patio. Marliss had blown out the candles but the pool lights offered a flickering accompaniment to the moon’s soft illumination.

  Without him encouraging it, his mind wandered to the picture of Dusty and Theresa he’d spied earlier. How many times had his father stood in this very spot at some ungodly hour, feeling that massive weight of responsibility on his shoulders? It was a bizarre musing to have. Unlikely that Dusty’s conscience kept him up at nights. A framed snapshot didn’t prove anything. For all he knew, his dad had just been exhausted from work that day and that’s what the camera captured. Not some sense of regret and deep pining for a relationship with his sons.