it snow here often?” he asked, to keep the conversation going. It had gotten quiet. Too quiet. And he was afraid his mind would dwell on just how pretty she was.
“Yes, usually a lot this time of year but our worst days are in February. That’s when practically everything shuts down. But I bet it doesn’t snow here as much as in Alaska.”
He chuckled. “You’d bet right. We have long, extremely cold days. You get used to being snowed in more so than not. If you’re smart, you’ll prepare for it because an abundance of snow is something you can count on.”
“So what do you do on Kodiak Island?” she asked.
They had reached her truck. The vehicle suited her. Although she was definitely feminine, she didn’t come across as the prissy type. He had a feeling Bailey Westmoreland could handle just about anything, including this powerful-looking full-size pickup. He was of the mind that there was something innately sensuous about a woman who drove a truck. Especially a woman who was strikingly sexy when she got out of it.
Knowing she was waiting for an answer to his question, he said, “I own a livestock ranch there. Hemlock Row.”
“A cattle ranch?”
“No, I raise bison. They can hold their own against a bear.”
“I’ve eaten buffalo a few times. It’s good.”
“Any bison from Hemlock Row is the best,” he said, and didn’t care if it sounded as if he was bragging. He had every right to. His family had been in the cattle business for years, but killer bears had almost made them lose everything they had. After his parents’ deaths he’d refused to sell and allow Hemlock Row to become a hunting lodge or a commercial fishing farm.
“Well, you’ll just have to send me some to try.”
“Maybe you’ll get to visit the area one day.”
“Doubt it. I seldom leave Denver,” she said, releasing the lock on the truck door for him.
“Why?”
“Everything I need is right here. I’ve visited relatives in North Carolina, Montana and Atlanta on occasion, and I’ve traveled to the Middle East to visit my cousin Delaney once.”
“She’s the one who’s married to a sheikh, right?” he asked, opening the truck door.
“Jamal was a sheikh. Now he’s king of Tehran. Evidently you’ve done research on the Westmorelands, so why the need to visit us?”
He held her gaze over the top of the truck. “You have a problem with me being here, Bailey?”
“Would it matter if I did?”
“Probably not, but I still want to know how you feel about it.”
He watched her nibble her bottom lip as if considering what he’d said. He couldn’t help studying the shape of her mouth and thinking she definitely had a luscious pair of lips.
“I guess it bothers me that the Outlaws think we’d claim them as relatives if they weren’t,” she said, her words breaking into his thoughts.
“You have to understand their position. To them, the story of some woman giving up her child before dying after a train wreck sounds pretty far out there.”
“As far-out as it might sound, that’s what happened. Besides, all it would take is a DNA test to prove whether or not we’re related. That should be easy enough.”
“Personally, I don’t think that’s the issue. I’ve seen photographs of your brothers and cousins and so have the Outlaws. The resemblance can’t be denied. The Westmorelands and the Outlaws favor too much for you not to be kin.”
“Then, what is the issue and why are you here? If the Outlaws want to acknowledge we’re related but prefer not to have anything to do with us, that’s fine.”
Walker liked her knack for speaking what she thought. “Not all of them feel that way, Bailey. Only Bart.”
“Who’s Bart?” she asked, breaking eye contact with him to get into the truck.
“Bart’s their father,” he answered, getting into the truck, as well. “Bart’s father would have been the baby that was supposedly given to his grandmother, Amelia Outlaw.”
“And Amelia never told any of them the truth about what happened?” Bailey asked, snapping her seat belt around her waist. A waist he couldn’t help notice was pretty small. He could probably wrap his arms around it twice.
He snapped his seat belt on, thinking the truck smelled like her. “Evidently she didn’t tell anyone.”
“I wonder why?”
“She wouldn’t be the first person to keep an adoption a secret, if that’s what actually happened. From what Rico Claiborne said, Clarice knew she was dying and gave her baby to Amelia, who had lost her husband in that same wreck. She probably wanted to put all that behind her and start fresh with her adopted son.”
After she maneuvered out of the parking lot, he decided to change the subject. “So what do you do?”
She glanced over at him. “Don’t you know?”
“It wasn’t on Facebook.”
She chuckled. “I don’t put everything online. And to answer your question, I work for my sister-in-law’s magazine, Simply Irresistible. Ever heard of it?”
“Can’t say that I have. What kind of magazine is it?”
“One for today’s up-and-coming woman. We have articles on health, beauty, fashion and, of course, men.”
He held her gaze when the truck came to a stop. “Why ‘of course’ on men?”
“Because men are so interesting.”
“Are we?”
“Not really. But since some women think so, we have numerous articles about your gender.”
He figured she wanted him to ask what some of those articles were, but he didn’t intend to get caught in that trap. Instead, he asked, “What do you do at the magazine?”
“As of today I’m a features editor. I got promoted.”
“Congratulations.”
“Thanks.” An easy smile touched her lips, lips that were nice to look at and would probably taste just as nice.
“I find that odd,” he said, deciding to stay focused on their conversation and not her lips.
The vehicle slowed due to traffic and she looked at him. “What do you find odd?”
“That your family owns a billion-dollar company yet you don’t work there.”
* * *
Bailey broke eye contact with Walker. Was he in probing mode? Were her answers going to be scrutinized and reported back to the Outlaws?
Walker’s questions confirmed what she’d told Dillon. Those Outlaws were too paranoid for her taste. As far as she was concerned, kin or no kin, they had crossed the line by sending Walker Rafferty here.
But for now she would do as Dillon had asked and tolerate the man’s presence...and his questions. “There’s really nothing odd about it. There’s no law that says I have to work at my family’s corporation. Besides, I have rules.”
“Rules?”
“Yes,” she said, bringing the truck to a stop for a school bus. She looked over at him. “I’m the youngest in the family and while growing up, my brothers and cousins felt it was their God-given right to stick their noses in my business. A little too much to suit me. They only got worse the older I got. I put up with it at home and couldn’t imagine being around them at the office, too.”
“So