Jackson: The Sons of Dusty Walker (10 page)

“I mean…” She took a sip of her drink. “It’d make it more
like you were showing a new friend the scrapbook of your life, instead of thinking
of it as your father’s collection.” She tipped her head, her eyes looking
worried. “Does that make any sense at all?”

He forced a small smile, then let it grow bigger as her idea
grew on him, made a hell of a lot of sense, then felt so right that it
surprised him. “Yeah, it does make sense, Rori. Thank you for thinking of it.
I’m gonna take you up on that offer.”

Amazing woman. How was he going to stick to his plan and
leave Red Creek Sunday morning without a backward glance?

Rori sat on the big leather couch in the two-story living
room of Dusty Walker’s house, staring at the flat-stone fireplace that rose to
the ceiling, the many-pointed buck head hanging above the mantel, the balcony
that ran the length of the second floor, and the grand wooden staircase that
connected the levels. The place was big and roomy, but cold and silent.

They’d eaten the killer cheese-stuffed hamburgers that Lou
had prepped and Jackson had cooked on the little grill hanging over the edge of
the pontoon. They’d watched the sunset, then headed back to the dock where, as
if by magic, Lou and Marliss stood waiting to clean the pontoon, and had shooed
away Jackson and Rori when they’d tried to help.

At the pool in back of the house, Rori had peeled off her
shorts, accompanied by much whistling and suggestive language from Jackson,
then they’d swum and floated on their backs, holding hands and looking at the
stars until Jackson announced he was ready to tackle the scrapbook.

After showering off in the pool house, they came inside, and
Jackson had gone to get the scrapbook and drinks.

Rori had almost rescinded her offer to look at the book with
Jackson. She felt too invested in him already, especially for a five-day fling,
which was all he was. Nothing more.

And if she kept telling herself that, she’d believe it
sooner or later.

He padded into the room, barefoot, in sweatpants and a
T-shirt, carrying a bottle of red wine and two glasses and the big scrapbook
under one arm. “Wine okay? Otherwise Marliss has more of her margarita
concoction in the refrigerator.”

“Wine sounds lovely.” She shivered. In the air conditioning,
with her hair wet and just her shorts and tank top on, her skin goosebumped.

Jackson sat next to her and grabbed a remote. “Watch this.”
He pointed it at the fireplace and flames filled the big opening. “Decadence is
air conditioning and a fire on an eighty-degree night.”

She laughed. “We deserve it, just this once.”

“Agreed.” Pouring wine, he handed her a tall, stemmed glass
and held his up. “Here’s to reliving the past and enjoying the hell out of the
present.”

Rori tapped her glass on his and sipped, wishing there was a
future, but knowing that was impossible.

He set down his glass and picked up the scrapbook, laying it
on his thighs. “You ready?” His fingers traced the
J
embossed in the
cover.

“Are
you
ready?” For him to share this with her had
to be incredibly difficult.

He took a deep breath and opened the cover, letting it lay
on her lap. A big eight-by-ten-inch picture of tiny Jackson filled the first page.

“Oh my gosh!” She laughed through the moisture that filled
her eyes. “Look at you.” A full head of inch-long brown hair, serious blue
eyes, and the strong jaw she’d come to adore kissing.

“Yeah, jeez, the damn picture is nearly life-size.” His
voice was soft though, and his mouth curved up a tiny bit.

The outfit they’d put him in looked like a tiny sailor suit,
leaving his chubby arms and legs bare.

“Big feet.” She snuggled closer to him, loving the
closeness, the intimacy of this moment.

“You know what they say about guys with big feet.” He
glanced at her, his eyes narrow.

A surge of desire raced through her. “I can vouch for the
truth in that one.” She wagged her brows at him.

He chuckled, and turned the page. It was a picture of the
three of them, baby Jackson in his mom’s arms and Dusty with his arm around
her, the ocean in the background.

“She’s beautiful.” Petite and devoid of makeup, his mother’s
long, curling brown hair shone in the sunshine, her deep blue eyes sparkled
just like Jackson’s, and her smile could easily be seen from space. “She looks
happy.”

“She was. She is. She misses him, though.”

“What does your mother think…” Rori tugged at her earlobe.
“Never mind.” Thankfully, she was able to choke back that question before it
flew from her mouth.

“No, ask me. It’s good to get stuff talked about.”

“Okay, but tell me if it’s too personal.” She sucked in a
breath. “What does she think of Dusty having three other sons by three other
women?”

He stared at the fire. “She didn’t seem all that surprised
when I told her.” He worked his jaw. “I had to wonder if Dusty slipped up some,
calling her by another name, or me by another name, maybe.” He shrugged. “She
might have hired a private eye. I don’t know. It was good that she had a week
between finding out about Dusty passing and learning about his other families.”

Rori couldn’t imagine loving someone and knowing they were
legally bound to another. Even worse, finding out that she wasn’t the only
extramarital family he had. Jackson’s mother had to have been pretty deep in
love with Dusty, and pretty darn strong.

He tapped the bottom of the picture. “Dad bought us this
house just a block from the ocean, and it has this rooftop deck.”

“Oh wow, that’s your house?” She’d love to have a view like
that from her place.

“Yeah. Dad met Mom—her name is Sapphire—when he came into
her pottery shop in the downtown section of Bandon.” Jackson looked like his
thoughts drifted west for a few moments.

“Is she still a potter?”

“She is, teaches classes and employs five people full-time
now. But back then, it was just her in the shop, doing it all and living in an
apartment above it.” He glanced at Rori. “Just like you.”

A snort escaped her. “Me, but with creativity.” Rori wished
she had an ounce of artistic talent.

“You’re creative, darlin’. Don’t doubt it for a moment. The
things you do with hardware and software, man, I’m so frickin’ impressed, I
want to kneel at your feet and worship you.” He winked.

His words filled her with pride, but the vision of him down
there clenched a sexy ache in her core. “Maybe later?”

“Definitely later.” He gave her a soft, quick kiss, then
went back to the book.

Rori touched the corner of the page. “Dusty looks happy.”
The man had a big grin, standing nearly a foot taller than Sapphire, his brown
hair was cut short, but his brown eyes had the same happy gleam as Sapphire’s.
“You resemble him when he was younger.”

Jackson just looked at the picture. On the next page, a
dozen more baby pictures chronicled his growth, his rolling over, and finally,
his sitting up. All of them showed him smiling.

He flipped pages, commenting on the boat rides pictured,
swimming at the beach, catching his first crab, and his first day of preschool.

She held back her ooohs and awwws as much as she could, but
her chest filled to capacity with the sweetness of the little man with the
combed-back hair and shiny-clean face. “You were just an angel.”

“Ha.” He turned the page. “I was happy, mostly, and I dealt
with the fact that the other kids had dads around all the time, but I didn’t.”

“I can’t imagine.” Her parents were her foundation, her
father was her greatest supporter.

Jackson sat back, drinking his wine. “You see your parents a
lot?”

“I do, when I’m in KC, and once in a while they make the
trip to Red Creek.” She rolled her eyes. “The sightseeing here isn’t that
great, so they don’t stay long, but I appreciate that they make the effort.”

“You said they’re teachers?”

“Yep. Mom teaches calculus and Dad biology at a private high
school.” Rori shrugged. “They’ve been offered positions at colleges, but
they’re not interested in making money. Instead, they feel kids at that age
need a lot of guidance and encouragement, and they’ve both got minors in
psychology.”

“Holy hell, that’s how you turned out so well.”

A laugh blasted out of her. “I was a social mess in high
school, as you can imagine, with my propensity to say whatever thoughts pop
into my mind.” She thought about her teen years, her awkwardness and book
smarts, valedictorian, teachers’ pet. “I was a virgin until I was…” Oh hell,
had she just said that aloud?

****

Jackson’s head jerked back of its own power and laughter
roared out of him. This woman. What the heck kind of treasure had he stumbled
upon? “Oh darlin’, you can’t just blurt out half of that sentence.” He laughed,
setting down his wine glass to keep it from sloshing out.

Red flooded her cheeks and she sighed. “I’m not much of a
mystery, am I.” She glanced at him, then away. “I was a sophomore in college
before I had a boyfriend.”

Cupping his hand at the back of her neck, he massaged her
warm, soft skin. “I like that you were old enough to make the right decision.”

She nodded. “You know me. I had to have all the facts and
data lined up perfectly first.”

He laughed again, and when she didn’t say more, and sipped
her wine a little quicker, he gave her a break and went back to flipping pages
in the scrapbook.

“Is that you at a rodeo?” She pointed to a picture of
Jackson looking downright giddy at age ten.

“Yeah, Dad would take me to the rodeo in Myrtle Creek every
year, starting when I was about six. It was our thing, and I looked forward to
it for months before the event.” His roomy bedroom had posters on the wall from
each of the rodeos, and signatures of the cowboys and cowgirls procured for him
by Dusty filled each poster.

The memories flooded him and a burning feeling collected
behind his eyes, moistening them. “I’d sit on the front porch all morning in my
boots and jeans and cowboy hat just waiting for Dad to pull up in his rental
car.” Jackson could almost smell the salty spindrift from the ocean waves, and
feel the warm June sun on his shoulders. “I saved up my allowance, did extra
chores, so I’d have enough to buy Dad and me a hotdog and coke.” He’d been so
proud to be able to pay, and Dad’s chest had always swelled when he’d told the
hot dog vendor, “My son’s treating me today.”

The moisture swelled and he had to look away and blink, had
to turn his memories from those sweet times to the year he turned fifteen. The
anger flowed in, then. “It ended when I was fifteen. I woke that morning and
Mom was sitting at the kitchen table, her eyes red as if she’d been crying.

Rori took his hand. He hadn’t realized his whole body had
gone stiff as new rope.

Looking into her eyes, he saw real compassion, true
interest.

“Dad wasn’t coming that weekend. He couldn’t get away.”
Jackson had felt disappointed that day, but it wasn’t worth tears. “I sat and
rubbed Sapphire’s arm, told her it was fine. But then she got angry, blurted
that it wasn’t fair, that just because his
wife
wanted him to accompany
her…”

At first, the word had gone in Jackson’s ear and directly
out the other, as if she hadn’t just revealed a secret that would change his
life.

“Then Mom’s eyes widened, and she froze.”

“I asked, her, ‘Wife? What are you talking about?’”

Rori’s hand tightened in his and her breathing sped up.

“Mom started crying and she covered her face with her hands.
I remember her words as if she said them yesterday. ‘Oh honey, I’m so sorry. I
didn’t mean for you to find out this way’.”

“Jackson, I’m sorry.” Rori’s eyes shone with moisture.

His chest hurt just reliving that day. “I remember standing
up, but my head was spinning like I’d just gotten off a ride at the fair.” His
world had changed with each passing second, with each recollection of the days,
weeks, months that Dusty had spent away from them.

“I ran out of the house, in my boots and jeans and cowboy
hat and belt buckle.” He glanced down, but he wasn’t wearing the one Dusty had
given him when he’d turned ten. The same buckle his dad had given his three
other sons. That wasn’t something he was ready to talk about. Not even with
Rori.

She sniffed and wiped tears off her cheek with the back of
her hand.

Jackson swallowed down his own emotion. “I ran and ran, just
kept running. I ended up on the highway, and realized I was heading toward the
rodeo.”

“Your mom must have been frantic.” Her voice shook.

“She was. I found out later she called Dad, and he got on
his plane and flew out right then.” Jackson took in a few breaths, the drama of
that day raising his blood pressure. “I hitched a ride that got me halfway
there, then hitched again and got in a truck full of rodeo cowboys who were
going to Myrtle Creek.”

“And so it began.” She smiled through her tears.

“Exactly. The hour I rode with them in that truck convinced
me that it was the life I wanted to live.” No responsibilities except for
getting to the rodeo on time, no emotional attachments, no roots.

“How much of that do you think was because of finding out
about Dusty’s wife?” Rori looked too serious.

“There’s that psychologists’ daughter coming out.” He almost
smiled, but knew he was deflecting her question. He’d asked himself the same
thing a hundred times. “I’m just glad it wasn’t a circus Dad took me to every
year. Can you imagine me in clown makeup?”

She chuckled, even though she looked upset. “I’m sorry, that
was not something I should have said aloud.” When she tried to release his
hand, he grasped hers a little tighter.

“No, it needed to be said. I’ve given it thought over the
years, but it’d take a hell of a shrink and about ten thousand hours to figure
out what went wrong with me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you.” Rori’s declaration came
out firm and sure. “You’ve lived your life the way you wanted. Not many people
can honestly say that.”

She was right, he had done exactly what he’d wanted all
these years, but was it still working for him? Or was he finally outgrowing his
“running away to join the rodeo” phase?

“How did you get home?” She poured each of them a little
more wine, then sipped hers, tucking her legs up under her and relaxing back
into the cushions.

“Dad showed up about an hour into the rodeo. Just sat down
next to me and handed me a hot dog and a coke.” Jackson remembered how his
hands shook as he took them from Dusty, anger, disappointment, fear, all
ricocheting around inside him, not knowing where to go, what to do.