Rori and Jackson: The Sons of Dusty Walker Page 2

  “Not sure.” Jackson had plans, but he needed Rori’s input before he made a move. The whole thing, though…it felt too soon. Too much was coming at him at the speed of a charging bronc.

  The fish finder beeped and Jackson slowed the boat. “Gentlemen.” He cut the engine. “We’re about to catch us some largemouth bass.”

  “Woo-hoo!” Rogue rubbed his hands together. “Let’s make this interesting, shall we?” He knocked twice on the small plastic table. “We each put in, oh, let’s say a thousand? Largest fish wins?”

  Jackson cut the motor and walked back to drop the anchor. Rogue sure did like his gambling.

  “I’m in.” Dylan adjusted his Tennessee Titans cap. “And anyone who doesn’t catch a fish? They pay double.”

  Killian shook his head with a grin. “Steep. I’m an old married man now. I don’t know if I can afford to hang out with you guys.”

  Jackson laughed. Each of them now owned a quarter of their late dad’s half-billion dollar company, and he had it on good authority that Killian was a millionaire on his own. “The man paid for our shorts. That might be all the money we ever see coming out of him.”

  “Fuck you guys, I’m in.” Killian knocked on the table. “Jackson? Is your wallet glued together, or are you willin’ to wager on your fishing skills?”

  He walked toward them carrying his tackle box. He’d been fishing all his life. Growing up in Oregon, just blocks from the ocean, he’d been on the water as much as he’d been on land for most of his life. “Ah, boys.” He sighed and frowned at them. “I’ve been doing this since I was knee-high to a she-crab. It just wouldn’t be fair to take your money.”

  The guys laughed, cursed a bit, then all agreed to Dylan’s modified wager.

  Jackson set four poles in the boat’s built-in holders. He didn’t know how savvy they were about fishing, so he’d tied on swivels so the guys just had to clip on their lures. When he set the tackle box on the table, his brothers went quiet. “These jigs have real pork on them.” He pointed to the variety of good-size lures in individual sections. “Choose your weapon.”

  The guys poked at them a bit then each took one and headed to the poles.

  “We have a drop-off on this side.” He pointed starboard. “Over here are some good weeds for fish to hide in.” That was port. “It looks like some kind of debris on the bottom aft.” He pointed to the back of the boat. “And the fish finder is showing activity, so get your lines in.”

  They silently moved to the four sides of the boat and started casting. Jackson gave some advice, and a couple of his brothers added their knowledge. The talk turned to business for a while, and they actually didn’t argue about it, for once.

  “What’s Bandon, Oregon like?” Dylan held his pole in one hand, a beer in the other.

  “Small town, kind of art-lovin’, hippy people, mostly.” He thought of his mother and her pottery business. “Mom’s one of them.” He talked about the place and the fishing there, the amazing tourist destinations within short drives. Taking a deep breath, he went for broke. “There’s a bed and breakfast close to home. We could…if you wanted…” He swallowed. “The eight of us could go there sometime. A vacation.” Would the guys laugh him off the boat?

  “Yeah, that’d be great.” Killian worked his pole, reeling in line. “Lexie would love that.”

  Dylan and Rogue agreed, and in minutes they’d planned out trips to Nashville with Dylan, Texas with Rogue, and Montana with Killian.

  Dylan hooked a small perch, which earned the youngest Walker brother the nickname “small fry.” Jackson got the first bass, and weighed it in at a respectable five pounds. “We’ll put it in the livewell so we don’t re-catch it. Release it when we’re done.”

  “We’re not eating these?” Rogue looked disappointed. “Where I come from, we eat everything we catch.” He laughed. “Well, just about everything.” He talked about his life in central Texas and spoke of his mother.

  Jackson wanted his mom to meet these guys. “Do any of your mothers ask about Red Creek?”

  His brothers all said yes. “But if you’re thinking about getting them all together here at once…” Killian tugged at his pole, looking like he’d gotten his lure snagged on something. “I’m not sure that’s such a genius idea.”

  Dylan worked his jig. “Yeah, hell, that’d break the record for the longest silent staring contest on Earth.”

  Jackson reeled in and set down his pole, then walked back to help free Killian’s lure. “I was thinking more like, one at a time.” He slid an oar down the fishing line and pushed at it from different directions.

  “Got one!” Rogue kept his line taut, reeling in his catch.

  Dylan reeled in and set down his pole. “Need the net?”

  Killian’s lure came free as Rogue followed his fish to port, making the boat rock. The snap of his fishing line as he lost the fish sent Rogue’s lure sailing toward Dylan, who was looking the other way.

  Jackson moved quick, grabbing the filament in midair with his right hand, but Rogue was looking the other way and whipped his pole through the air. “Damn it.”

  A piercing sensation hit Jackson at the base of his little finger.

  Dylan turned with the fish net in hand and looked at Jackson, who was holding the fishing line at shoulder height. His eyes popped wide. “Holy shit pickles.” His voice roared and echoed across the lake. “Don’t move, Jackson.”

  The pinching feeling turned quickly into pain, and he looked at his hand.

  The green lure hung below his finger, its large metal hook imbedded in his palm. Turning his hand over, he spotted the rest of the hook poking out the top of his hand. “This ain’t good.” Bright red blood began to ooze from both sides of the hook, dripping down his hand onto the deck.

  “Ohhhh.”

  Jackson didn’t know who’d groaned, but it sounded like one of the boys was going to hurl up or faint.

  “Uh, so now we do what?” Killian set down his pole, walked up to Jackson, and got a good look. He pulled out his pocketknife and cut the line.

  “I’ve been pierced before. Not a big thing.” He felt a little queasy, though. The blood was starting to really pour out.

  “You sure, brother?” Dylan grabbed a small towel and handed it to Jackson. “There could be a mess inside there. Like a blood vessel, or a tendon, or the bone.”

  Jackson held the towel under the red drips and it got soaked way too fast. “Since when did you get medical training?”

  “My hands are my livelihood.” Dylan looked closer at the injury. “I know more about keeping them healthy than you’d think.”

  “Yeah, I think small fry is right.” Rogue didn’t look directly at the blood. “Best to get to the ER and have it looked at.”

  “Anyone know where that is?” Killian pulled out his phone and started typing.

  “I can ask Kit.” Rogue reached for his phone. “She’d—”

  “No!” Three brothers said the word at the same time.

  Rogue nodded. “Shit, what the hell was I thinking?”

  Dylan gestured to the cushy bench seat. “Sit down, Jackson. Let me get this tub back to the dock.”

  “Seventeen minutes to the nearest hospital.” Killian pocketed his phone then looked at the towel as Jackson set it on the table and sat. “Bleeding like a stuck hog, buddy.”

  “Got the anchor.” Rogue called from the aft. “I’ll call and have Lou bring the work truck down to the dock.”

  Sliding into the captain’s chair, Dylan turned the key in the ignition. “Good idea.” He eased the throttle forward and had them sailing across the lake in seconds.

  “Guys.” Jackson liked how they were concerned about him, and how they all worked together in a crisis. But he didn’t want to go to the hospital. “Seriously, we can just snip off the barb and ease the damn thing out of my hand.”

  “I don’t know.” Killian sat beside him, exchanging the soaked towel for a much larger one. “Better to be safe, Jackson. Get an X-r
ay, make sure your nerves are okay. And you’ll probably need a tetanus shot, too.”

  Jackson’s little finger started to lose feeling. Was it just from holding it at that angle? Or was something else going on inside there? “Yeah. Okay. As long as you guys forfeit.”

  “Forfeit?” Dylan looked at him, his brow furrowed.

  “The fishing contest.” He gestured to the livewell with his good hand. “I’m the only one who caught a bass.”

  The brothers laughed, Rogue released Jackson’s fish, and they pulled up to the dock as Marliss and Lou came running out to help them tie off.

  “Jeezie loo.” Marliss looked at Jackson’s hand as Dylan helped steady him onto the dock. She handed him a stack of towels. “You sure did turn yourself into a tuna, kid.”

  Jackson smiled at her. “I had a little help from my family.” It felt good to have a family. Not just a mother and a part-time father. But a real family who cared enough to make him see a doctor about something this small.

  Dylan wiped at his shirt where a smudge of blood stained his band’s logo. “Truckstop Pickup has a new logo. Slash!”

  “Sorry, man.” Jackson looked over at Killian who used a towel to wipe blood from his leg and the bottom of his shorts. He must have been standing too close when he was checking out the injury.

  Killian gave up and gestured toward the red D. Walker Mineral Co. truck that Jackson always drove, which was waiting at the top of the dock, engine running, all four doors open. “Let’s go before you get that shit on Rogue, too.”

  Another groan came from the gambler and they marched quickly to the truck.

  “Call and let us know everything’s okay,” Marliss shouted after them as Lou pulled the hose up and got busy cleaning the pontoon.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Jackson would rather not have all the attention, but it also felt good, somehow. Like they cared. Really cared.

  When he got settled in the front passenger seat, his three brothers slid into the truck.

  “Guys, I only need one of you to drive me.”

  Killian, at the wheel, turned toward the back seat. “You boys want me to drop you off at the house?”

  “Hell, no.” Dylan fastened his seatbelt.

  “I’m up for a drive.” Rogue rolled down his window. “Road trip!”

  The brothers shouted, “Road trip!” in unison, and Jackson just laughed. The fishing wasn’t as much of a bonding experience as he’d hoped, but the aftermath of the bloody hooking—that was something they’d never forget. “I’ll treat for lunch after.” He glanced at his siblings. “Out of my winnings.”

  The good-natured argument went on for the entire seventeen minutes to the county seat.

  Chapter Three

  Jackson walked out of the small treatment area into the waiting room to find seven people staring at him. His three brothers, and all four of their women. “Hi.”

  Rori stood and walked to him. She looked so cute in her Cyber Wise T-shirt, jeans, and red high-top canvas tennis shoes. “Are you okay? Everything good with your hand?”

  He looked at the bandage around his right paw. “Yep. No permanent damage.” He reached for her with his left hand.

  She leaned into him. “And you didn’t think it was important for you to call and tell me what was going on?”

  “Uh.” He looked at his brothers for help, but they just sat silently, just as guilty as he was. “No? Yes? I don’t know?”

  Rori smiled. “Someone came into Lexie’s coffee shop with a story about blood all over the boat and you four speeding off to the hospital.”

  “How…?” Jackson shook his head. Marliss and Lou wouldn’t have said anything. They were as closemouthed as a stubborn toddler.

  “Must have been one of the grounds staff.” Rogue shrugged. “That’s all we could figure.”

  To use a term his mother always used, his brothers’ three ladies looked positively frazzled. “I owe you all an apology.” Jackson looked at Rori, softening his gaze. “I should have called you, darlin’. But…” He looked at his hand. Luckily it wasn’t the one he used to grip the bronc’s rein. “I was in such mental anguish.”

  “Ha.” Rori grinned. “You’re so full of bullshit, Jackson Walker. Those pretty blue eyes of yours should be brown.”

  “Aw, darlin’.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and turned her, walking them past the rest of the family. “Let me buy you lunch to make it up to you.” He winked at Zoe, Lexie, then at Kit. “All of you. My treat.”

  The group wandered toward the front door.

  Jackson looked down at the streaks of blood on his shirt. “That is, if you ladies don’t mind your men a little bloody.”

  Rori wrapped her arm around his waist. “That’s okay this time, but seriously boys? You need to let us pre-approve your group activities from now on.”

  The girls voiced their agreement, but Jackson reached down and swatted Rori’s sweet bottom. “If you think that’s gonna happen, then you don’t know anything about the Walker brothers.”

  The men let out hoots that had nurses shushing them. Their women…could only laugh.

  The rest of the week went too quickly. The brothers spent the days hammering out responsibilities at the company, and the evenings doing things with just the four of them. Killian hosted a barbeque at his horse ranch one evening, which required another trip to the emergency room.

  Rogue hosted a Texas Hold’em game for the four Walker boys at the Red Creek Saloon, where their baby brother entertained the crowd. In the middle of the game, they sorted out their work travel schedules, and Rogue let loose with a revelation that had the other three Walkers’ jaws dropping.

  For Jackson, it was a week well-spent, getting to know the strangers who’d become family, not just in blood, but in spirit.

  ****

  Three weeks later, Rori drove into Red Creek at sunset after spending the day installing a new computer system at a dairy farm south of town that was automating their cheese-making process. In the passenger seat of her white Cyber Wise van, a box filled with a variety of different kinds of cheeses slid around as she took the corners a little too fast.

  She’d been missing Jackson the last three days. He’d been out west somewhere, competing in a rodeo, and up north for a few days with a project for the Walker Mineral Co. He’d flown back today, and was waiting for her in her…their…apartment above her shop. Since he’d officially moved to Red Creek, he’d been gone every weekend rodeoing, visiting his mom in Oregon, traveling for work, or taking meetings in Kansas City.

  Those meetings, she couldn’t figure out. None of his three brothers were involved, just Jackson, and he wasn’t sharing anything about it. Granted, she didn’t need to know everything he did, but he usually talked about things with her, and whatever this project in KC was, he kept it to himself.

  He’d been having nightmares, too. A few times a week, he’d jerk awake with a gasp and ease out of the bed, heading for the kitchen where he’d stare out the window. This whole relationship thing was as new to him as it was to Rori, but he seemed to be happy. She knew she was. Could his subconscious be shifting into overdrive at night and throwing up hazard flares about this whole settling-down situation?

  She hoped not. She’d never fallen so fast or so deep with any man. Her thoughts kept drifting to the future—one with him in it, and a big family and a long, happy life with Jackson. Was she rushing him? Was that what caused his nightmares?

  He mentioned how things were going better for the brothers at their company. Her fear was that he might not need her the way he had at first, when things were new and scary for him. Could he be realizing that she was just someone who’d helped him through a difficult time in his life? Was he feeling merely gratitude, and not developing feelings of love, for her?

  With her mind in high gear, Rori drove right past Lexie’s coffee shop. Making a U-turn in the middle of the deserted street, she swung her van to the curb and put it in park. The box of cheese contained more than she and Jack
son would ever eat in a month, and maybe Lexie could use it on the sandwiches she made for her customers. After removing a pound of each type to keep, Rori hauled the rest of the box into the Heart Starter.

  “Hey, Rori.” Her friend was finishing a transaction with a teenager, handing her a big cup of something frothy and smothered in whipped cream.

  “That looks good.” Rori smiled at the young woman, who slurped at the drink, getting whipped cream on her nose as she took an unsteady step away from the counter. Rori had been that girl once. Shy and skittish, a little geeky and a whole lot of not-fitting-in.

  “It’s my favorite, hot caramel mocha with whip. Ms. Lexie makes the best.” The girl blushed and wandered to a back table where her tablet glowed blue next to a thick textbook laying open.

  “Decaf.” Lexie winked one hazel eye at Rori. “Want one? With caffeine? You look a little sapped.” She used her shoulder to push back a blonde curl from her cheek. Her friend knew Rori was a plain old nonfat latte kind of woman.

  “No, thank you.” She set the box of cheese on the counter. “For you. It’s all packaged professionally and certified, or whatever, so you should be able to use it here.”

  “Oooh.” Lexie dug through the blocks of cheese. “I love their cheeses. I didn’t know they made all these varieties.”

  “Just started.” Rori jingled her keys, anxious to get home to Jackson. “That’s why they needed to upgrade their systems.”

  “Well, thank you. This is really sweet of you.” Lexie set the box on the counter and opened the refrigerator, shoving things around inside it to make room.

  “I’ve got to run. Jackson is waiting—”

  “Is that his sister in town?” Lexie put the box in the refrigerator.

  Jackson had never mentioned any siblings. Rori frowned, trying to remember if he’d mentioned having a visitor.

  “I saw him pick her up from the motel when I was there today having…” Lexie’s gaze met Rori’s and her eyes opened wide. “Oops. Did I say something wrong?”