by Ali Parker
Walk The Line
The Dawson Brothers #6
Ali Parker
BrixBaxter Publishing
Contents
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Description
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Epilogue
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Description
A beautiful woman makes everything better.
Including me.
Living on a big ranch with a large family means working during the day and taking on side projects on the weekend.
And it’s my turn to help with the latest one. The house needs updating, and my sister wants an interior designer to help out.
I begrudgingly agree to help until the woman shows up.
Crazily enough, it’s the pretty girl I kissed on the dance floor a few nights before.
The one that slapped me in the face and walked off.
I’ve always loved a good challenge.
Everything about her turns me on. But she’s not interested in bad cowboy types.
And my brothers and I are just that. At least, they are.
A nasty situation turns the pretty girl against me, and there isn’t much I wouldn’t do to get her back.
Time to dust off these boots and walk this line.
This woman is well worth the effort.
Introduction
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1
Connor Dawson
“I just don’t see the point anymore, other than to have a cold beer and a dance,” I said, as I drove the truck toward the dance hall. Wyatt and Abi were following behind us in Wyatt’s truck, typical of a Saturday night for the Dawson family.
“What do you mean?” Dylan asked, as he sat in the back seat of my double cab pickup truck.
“I mean it’s the same girls all the time. Half of them we’ve already dated, and the other half hate our guts,” I said.
“Well, it’s just about a cold beer and hanging with my brothers for me, I have a woman,” Tanner said, sitting in the passenger seat.
“Yeah, yeah, you ain’t gotta be all arrogant about it,” I said, feeling a little jealous that he had a woman, and a good one at that.
“So what’s wrong with some beers and dancing? We ain’t lookin’ for wives, just some fun. Why are you all serious about this all of a sudden?” Dylan asked.
“I’m not serious about lookin’ for a wife. I’m just saying we should try going into the city or something next time. And meet some new women,” I said, as I pulled the truck into the gravel parking lot of the dance hall.
“The city? Nah, no way. Dawson boys belong in Safety, Texas,” Tanner said.
I put the truck in park as Wyatt’s truck pulled alongside us. The parking lot was already full. Cowboys and cowgirls were all over the lot, even pouring out the doors of the dance hall, and the honky-tonk music was loud.
“Woo-hee! Look at that! It’s gonna be a good night. I can feel it,” Dylan said, getting all anxious in the back seat, the way a dog does when you pull up to the park. I wished I was that excited, but these weekends at the dance hall were turning into the same ol’—same ol’ for me. It was boring and I was craving something new.
“Alright boys, keep it in your pants,” Tanner said, as we got out of the truck. “This means you, Dylan.”
“It’s really happening around here tonight,” Abi said, climbing out of Wyatt’s truck. We all gathered behind our trucks, waiting until everyone was ready.
“Yeah, it’s supposed to be a good honky-tonk band tonight. All the way from Kerrville or something,” Wyatt added.
“Oh, there are my girls. I’ll see y’all later,” Abi said, waving at a group of her friends. “And don’t get into trouble,” she added sternly, before walking away.
“Oh, we never do,” Dylan said. Abi rolled her eyes at his obvious lie, then quickly ran across the lot to a group of girls.
“Alright, who’s buying the first round?” Dylan asked, as we started walking toward the door.
“Not I!” We all spoke at the same time, laughing hysterically.
“Wyatt was dragging there,” I said, punching him in the arm.
“Alright, alright. I got first round then. Oldest to youngest, so Connor you’re buying round number two,” he said.
“Fine then,” I said, suddenly getting energized as we headed to the door. Maybe this night would be fun even if it was the same old routine. This visiting band had everyone really excited, and you could feel it in the energy of the crowd.
We stood in the line at the door. It was moving—slowly—but it was moving. Three guys pushed out of the door from inside, already drunk. I knew who they were. One stumbled into Dylan.
“Whoa there.” Dylan grinned.
“What the hell, Dawson! Watch where you’re going!” Willie said.
“I was just standing here, Willie,” Dylan said, amused.
“Oh, that’s it, huh. It’s never your fault. All you Dawson brothers think you’re untouchable,” Willie said, getting in Dylan’s face.
“What’d you say about my family?” Dylan’s playful grin fell from his face.
“No, Dylan,” I said, putting my hand on his chest and holding him back while Wyatt and Tanner stepped in front of him.
“Now Willie, you’re just drunk, go walk it off. Garrett, Pete—get him on out of here, come on,” Wyatt said, speaking to Willie’s friends.
“Come on Willie, you are drunk,” Garrett said, pushing Willie toward Pete and the parking lot. Together, they walked off out of sight.
“Dylan, you can’t go starting shit with every drunk that bumps into you. Geez,” Tanner said.
“Yeah, yeah, you’re right. I just got heated for a second. I’m good, I’m good,” Dylan said, shaking it off. But I couldn’t blame him. Dylan was twenty-three, and I was a hot head when I was his age. With age came a cooler head, it seemed.
Finally, we stepped to the bar.
“Four Lonestar’s, Bob!” Wyatt shouted at the bartender. Four longneck bottles of beer were placed in front of us. They were nice and cold, perfect for starting the night. We turned our backs to the bar, leaning against it.
In front of us was a wide aisle, where people were walking back and forth. Beyond that were two rows of picnic style tables, and still further was the oval shaped dance floor, currently full of couples doing the two
-step. The stage was at the back of the dance floor where the band was playing. I got my foot tappin’ and I was feeling good and excited.
“Connor thinks these cowgirls aren’t worth his time anymore, ‘cause there’s no one new in town,” Dylan said to Wyatt.
“Well, he might be right. Most of these girls already hate us,” Wyatt said with a grin. He tipped his black felt cowboy hat at a woman walking by who immediately narrowed her eyes at him. We all laughed.
“That girl right there. I ain’t ever seen her before!” Dylan said, enthusiastically. “Oh wait, I was with her six months ago. She changed her hair color. Margaret—no, Margo. Shit, I can’t remember.”
I laughed. “What did I tell you? This town is just too damn small.”
Scanning the hall, I was looking for a woman of my taste. Then I saw her.
Across the hall, sitting on top of the table with her feet on the bench was a woman I’d never seen before. Her long blonde hair was platinum, like Marilyn Monroe. It was tucked under a white straw hat. Her blue denim mini-skirt showed her long legs tucked into white cowgirl boots. I could even see those stunning dark green eyes all the way from where I stood. As if she sensed I was looking at her, she turned and locked eyes with me. A smile came across those perfect pink lips showing me her pearly whites. Usually I would raise my beer with a nod, and my best dashing grin, but this woman had me so stunned, I just stood there frozen.
“Who the hell is that?” I asked in shock.
“Who? Where? Where?” Dylan scanned the crowd.
“To the right, sitting on top of the table in the white hat and white boots,” I said.
“Ooh nice. She’s a looker. I ain’t ever seen her before,” Wyatt said.
“Nope, I’ve never seen her in town,” Tanner added.
“Good. A new one, I’m going in,” Dylan said, taking a step. I grabbed his shirt.
“Oh, no you don’t. I saw her first,” I said, pushing him back against the bar.
“Oh come on, you couldn’t close that anyway,” Dylan said.
“You don’t close a woman like that. You romance her,” I said.
“Oh! Romance her!” Wyatt laughed, while they all started to make fun and tease me. I rolled my eyes at them.
“You couldn’t romance a woman like that.” Dylan said, with a twinkle in his eye.
“I bet I can. I bet I can get her to dance with me,” I said.
“Hmm, I’ll take that bet,” Wyatt said.
“Yeah, money on the table. Twenty bucks says you can’t get her to dance with you,” Dylan said.
“I’ll take some of that action,” Tanner replied.
“I’ll throw down another fifty if you kiss her before the end of the night,” Wyatt said.
“A bet? You guys are really going to do this to me, aren’t you?” I asked them.
“Sure are. It’s done,” they all chimed in.
I sighed and looked at the woman. She was now talking to her friends and not looking at me. As I looked around her I noticed just how many other cowboys were staring at her. Shit, I better get moving.
“Alright. I’ll take the bet. It’s on.” Slamming back my beer, I stood straighter and took a deep breath.
“Woo-wee! Now we got something,” Dylan said.
Tanner started massaging my shoulders like I was a boxer he was sending into the ring. “Now, just be honest with her. Women like honesty.”
“Compliment her but don’t let it be fake,” Wyatt said.
“And whatever you do, don’t say nothing about her boobs,” Dylan said. “I learned that one last week. She does have a nice rack though.”
I gave him a look and already didn’t like hearing anyone talk about her like that. I took a deep breath. “Here goes. I’m doing it.”
Slamming my beer onto the bar, I headed in her direction. My brothers slapped me on the back, shouting such embarrassing encouragement I was glad the music was so loud and that she was at the other end of the hall.
She turned and locked eyes with me, seeing that I was headed toward her. Then I felt arms wrap around my waist.
“Connor Dawson!”
I looked down at the petite Maria Sanchez, a girl I dated off and on in high school.
“Maria. Hi, uh—” I said, grabbing at her arms trying to get her off me.
“Where you been, Connor? I haven’t seen you in a while,” she asked. Her arms were like iron grips around me. I looked at the blonde who raised her brows at me, acknowledging what was happening.
“Well—I’ve been working on the ranch and—”
“You owe me a dance, and you should really buy me a beer so we can catch up on old times.”
“Yeah, that sounds—”
“Remember old times, Connor? Remember what we used to do in the back of your truck?”
“I—uh—” I looked back at my brothers. They were laughing their asses off and obviously weren’t coming to help me. I took a deep breath.
“Maria. I have a girlfriend now and you are kind of making me look bad.”
“A girlfriend? Shucks.” She pouted. “Let me know when it doesn’t work out. You’re never with a girl for more than a few months, Connor Dawson.” Laughing, she walked away.
Finally free, I straightened my snap button western shirt and continued my walk toward the gorgeous blonde, though with significantly less confidence than I’d started with. She was now at the table alone, absent the girlfriend that had been at her side. She had her arms crossed across her chest now, as though unamused that I had to push girls off of me on the way.
Finally, I stood in front of her.
“Howdy ma’am. Would you like to dance?”
She looked at me, her eyes studying me up and down, analyzing me.
“I don’t know. Are you a real cowboy?” she asked.
2
Lydia Myers
“Oh come on, it will be fun!” Whitney said, as she poured two glasses of red wine for us.
“No thank you,” I said, as she crossed my kitchen, handing me a glass.
“You’re no fun,” she replied.
“Just because I don’t want to go to a honky-tonk in some small town? No, thank you, I’ve had my fill of country life,” I said, taking a drink. “There’s a reason I moved to the city.”
“It’s only a thirty minute drive. It’s where I grew up and it’s charming. It’s called Safety,” she said.
“You grew up in a town called Safety?” I laughed.
“Just give it a chance. I haven’t been to the dance hall in years, but it used to be fun. There are tons of cowboys. Real men, not like these city men—metrosexuals and all,” she said.
I giggled at her comment. She wasn’t wrong. The men in the city tended to be a little on the soft side. But I didn’t think it was necessary to travel out of the city to flirt with men.
“Let’s just go to the Neon like we always do,” I said.
“The Neon? I’m so sick of that bar. We go there all the time. We need something new. Come on, we usually have to work on the weekends. Let’s make the most of not having a client to deal with this week.”
I sighed. “What would I wear? I have nothing to wear to a honky-tonk.”
“Yes! Come on, we’re going to my place. I have plenty of stuff,” she said, swallowing the rest of her wine and pulling me from my comfortable couch.
Two hours later I was sitting on top of a sticky table drinking beer from a bottle. We had already danced a few times with some random guys. It was fun and I had to admit that Whitney was right about there being plenty of cowboys. Some of them were very cute and looked masculine and tough. It was a nice change of scenery, but I only considered myself a tourist.
“So how can you tell?”
“Tell what?” Whitney asked, sitting next to me.
“Which ones are real cowboys? I mean it takes more than a pair of Wranglers and a cowboy hat doesn’t it? Which ones actually ride horses and work hard on a ranch?” I asked, looking around.
; “Well, when I lived here I just knew, because everybody knows everybody in a place like this. Back then I knew who all the ranchers were and all, but now I don’t know. Most of these people are not too familiar to me. It’s been a long time. I guess you could just ask them.”
I laughed. “That’s one way to find out.”
“This beer is going right through me. I need to go to the ladies room and I bet there’s a super long line. Coming?” she asked.
“No, I think I’ll just wait here,” I said. “I’m not one for standing in lines if I don’t have to.”
“Alright, I’ll be back as soon as I can,” she said, hopping off the tabletop. I felt exposed wearing her clothes. She had put me in a denim mini-skirt, white boots, and a white hat. I wore a green tank top tucked into the skirt that was so tight it felt like a second skin. Truthfully, it felt a little daring to be dressed like this. I felt a bit like someone else and it was fun, and a little dangerous. I usually wore pencil skirts and blazers at work.
I let my eyes roam around the hall, checking out all the cowboys. Then I saw him. He was staring right at me from across the bar. A tall cowboy in a brown straw hat that looked like it had been beaten up some. Underneath the hat, shaggy brown hair stuck out wildly from the sides. His light green eyes were looking directly at me and I couldn’t help but notice his muscular forearms. One had a couple tattoos on it. He just stood there, staring at me. I smiled, but he didn’t smile back. Around him were guys about his age that looked much like he did, and I wondered if they were related. They must be, I thought.
