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  WALKER BRIDE

  BOOK 3

  THE WALKER FAMILY SERIES

  BY

  BERNADETTE MARIE

  This is a fictional work. The names, characters, incidents, places, and locations are solely the concepts and products of the author’s imagination or are used to create a fictitious story and should not be construed as real.

  5 PRINCE PUBLISHING AND BOOKS, LLC

  PO Box 16507

  Denver, CO 80216

  www.5PrinceBooks.com

  ISBN-10: 1-63112-153-7 ISBN 13: 978-1-63112-153-1

  WALKER PRIDE

  Bernadette Marie

  Copyright Bernadette Marie, 2015

  Published by 5 Prince Publishing SMASHWORDS EDITION

  Front Cover designed by Bernadette Soehner

  Author Photo: Brenden Murphy, 2015

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations, reviews, and articles. For any other permission please contact 5 Prince Publishing and Books, LLC.

  First Edition/First Printing January 2016 Printed U.S.A.

  5 PRINCE PUBLISHING AND BOOKS, LLC.

  Stan,

  Everything started the day I became your bride.

  Acknowledgements:

  To my boys: There are no words for how proud I am of you. Future spouses will be well taken care of because you are amazing men.

  To my husband: Only lucky wives have the support of their husbands in whatever they choose to do. I’m the luckiest.

  To my mom, dad, and sister: I’m grateful for my internal village which makes me seem like the well put together wife and mother. I love you.

  To Connie, Clare, and June: Between short deadlines, crazy ideas, and missed emails, we sure do take amazing journeys together. Thank you for humoring me through them.

  To my wonderful readers: You are all the most amazing people. I love getting to know those of you who reach out to me. You make my job the very best.

  Dear Reader,

  I can’t help but being a sucker for a family saga. I love when families are mixed together and dynamics differ.

  I think that is exactly what I have built with the Walkers. Each side is immensely different than the other.

  Of course, it’s always good to throw in a generations-long battle between another prominent family—enter the Morgans.

  You might imagine I had some fun stirring the pot and mixing Pearl Walker and Tyson Morgan together. As an author, I tend to write the kinds of stories I enjoy reading.

  With that said, I hope you enjoy this installment of the Walker Family Series with Walker Bride.

  Happy Reading!

  Bernadette Marie

  Other books by Bernadette Marie

  The Keller Family Series

  The Executive’s Decision

  A Second Chance

  Opposite Attraction

  Center Stage

  Lost and Found

  Love Songs

  Home Run

  The Acceptance

  The Merger

  The Escape Clause

  A Romance For Christmas (a Keller Family Series Novella)

  Aspen Creek Series

  First Kiss

  Unexpected Admirer

  On Thin Ice

  Indomitable Spirit

  The Matchmaker Series

  Matchmakers

  Encore

  Finding Hope

  The Three Mrs. Monroes

  Amelia

  Penelope

  Vivian

  The Walker Family Series

  Walker Pride

  Stargazing

  Walker Bride

  Single Titles

  Cart Before the Horse

  Candy Kisses

  WALKER BRIDE

  Chapter One

  Ivory satin was smooth under her fingers. Each pin held the hem of the bride’s dream dress in its mermaid style.

  Pearl Walker carefully let go of the fabric and made clear notes for the seamstress. There could be no miscommunications when it came to this dress. This dress had to be perfect because it would belong to Pearl’s sister Bethany.

  The dress that hung in its bag just beyond her, on the rack, was for her cousin’s future bride, Susan. That made two Walker brides having weddings in a span of two months. Who was next, she wondered.

  Her vote was on Lydia Morgan, her cousin Eric’s other cousin, and a childhood friend of hers. Well, perhaps Pearl shouldn’t consider they were friends back then. Lydia was studious, and Pearl was a little bit of a wild child. Though, she thought, as she looked in the full-length mirror to her right, she certainly didn’t look like one now.

  Her suit was Vera Wang, and it made her look the part of a successful business woman, who owned a bridal boutique. She kept her hair pinned up. That too, made her look smart, she thought. Pearls had replaced the black rubber bracelets that had lined her arm long ago. A French manicure gave her nails a clean look, not like the black paint of years ago. A tattoo on her thigh hid beneath her skirt, but there were traces of the bad girl that was still lingering under the blonde façade of the business woman.

  She heard the bell over the front door of her shop chime. Careful not to drop Bethany’s dress, she stood and walked to the front.

  Standing, all six-foot-four of him, very uncomfortable with his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, was Eric’s half-brother Tyson Morgan.

  “Hey, Ty. Did you come to get fitted for that tux finally?”

  “Yeah. Don’t know why they want me in their wedding. Don’t they have professionals to do that?”

  She smiled sweetly as she studied him. He was a country boy, that was for sure. He wore worn out work boots and faded jeans. His T-shirt might have seen better days and his hair peeked out around the edges of his baseball cap, which also got plenty of wear.

  “They chose you to be in the wedding because you’re important to them,” she said.

  “I spent most my life hating the Walker family, no offense.”

  “None taken.”

  “Who could have known I was related to one? Damn if that makes the least bit of sense ever, huh?”

  “Come on back. Let’s get you measured.”

  She walked toward her fitting area with the three-way mirror and platform. As she gathered her tape measure, she thought about that Walker-Morgan feud. It had been fueled for as long as she could remember, started over land rights early at the turn of last century, and the battle had continued until about ten months ago. It had been quite a shock to Tyson to find that the mother that abandoned him had been the same woman who married into the Walker family—Eric’s mother. She’d been a troubled soul, but forty years later her mistakes had brought the two families together.

  Now here stood the handsome Morgan man in her bridal shop. Truly this was something Pearl had never thought would happen either.

  “What size are your shoes?”

  A flash of annoyance crossed over Tyson’s face. “Why?”

  Pearl affixed her professional smile. “I carry a stock of dress shoes in back. If I take your measurements in the appropriate shoes, then I can assure that the tuxes will fit correctly.”

  “What’s wrong with my boots?”

  Keeping the smile in place, she replied, “Susan has requested that all the groomsmen wear dress shoes.”

  “Well, hell, no one mentioned that.”

  “Honestly, it won’t take but a moment here. What size?”

  She was sure he blurted out the number thirteen. She gave him a nod and disappeared into the back of the store to find the appropriately sized shoe.

  Men were usually more uncomfortable taking off their shoes in front of her than they
were to take off their clothes. She could only assume that Tyson would be the same.

  He was turned away from the mirror when she returned. She handed him the box containing the shoes.

  “Here you go. Try these.”

  “I really think it would be fine if we…”

  “Can I get you a soda or a bottle of water?” Men were also usually more comfortable with a bottle in their hands. Though she steered from keeping beer in the store, this was something she had studied.

  “Uh, sure. Coke?”

  “You put on the shoes. I’ll get you one.”

  Again, she left him alone in the dressing area and ducked into the back room to retrieve the drink. Her refrigerator was full of sodas and water. She specifically purchased soda in bottles so that men could have that feel in their hands. If it were a woman she was trying to ease, she’d have poured the soda into a fancy glass with ice.

  When she figured she’d given him enough time, she walked back into the dressing area.

  “Here you go,” she handed over the bottle and smiled, acknowledging the shoes that were now on his feet.

  “Thanks.” He took the soda and twisted off the top. “Do you have men in here a lot?” he asked as he squirmed under her assessing look.

  “Everyday. It’s a natural event here. But like I said, you’ll be out in a few moments.”

  She draped the tape measure around the back of her neck and retrieved her measurement notebook and a pencil.

  “I’m going to start with your shoulders.”

  He gave her a grunt of approval, and she went to work.

  Seriously, no one had ever asked him to do anything so uncomfortable in his entire life. And here he was, standing in a dress shop, in borrowed shoes, letting a Walker measure him.

  In the mirror, he watched her move a step stool into place behind him and step up. She took the tape measure from around her neck, then ran it from one side of his shoulders to the other. The tingle of her fingers resonated through his shirt and down through his skin.

  He bit down hard to control his body from flinching, gripping tightly to the bottle of soda in his hand.

  “Now, I’ll do your arm,” her voice was soft, and her breath was warm on his neck.

  She held her hand at the top of his shoulder and just as she’d done across his back, she slid her hand delicately down his arm until she reached his wrist.

  How quickly did she say this was going to take? Tyson was thinking he’d need a much stiffer drink than soda when she was done measuring him.

  Moving to the other arm, and then his chest, it gave him the chance to catch the scent of her perfume.

  Tyson clenched his toes in the borrowed shoes and closed his eyes as she reached her arms around his waist, her body brushing against his.

  She took the measurement quickly and then wrote it down in the notebook she’d laid at her feet.

  “Why couldn’t I just tell you my pant size and my coat size? You have to measure everyone?” he asked, noticing she was kneeling before him and not rising.

  Every person is built differently, even if they are the same size,” she said, using air quotes to emphasize her point.

  Well, now how was he supposed to take that comment with her reaching her hands toward his crotch?

  Realizing he was thinking just a bit too much about where her hands were going to travel, he stumbled back, nearly falling from the small platform she had him standing on.

  “Sorry. I guess this is making me a little uncomfortable.”

  She smiled sweetly up at him. He didn’t think it was possible to like a Walker, let alone find one extremely attractive, but damn if those blue eyes weren’t burning right through him.

  “Two more measurements,” she promised.

  Tyson clenched his fists at his side and closed his eyes as he felt her hand on the inside of his thigh.

  “Okay, all done.”

  He realized he held his breath too.

  “Good.”

  She stood and made her notes. “You can change your shoes back now.”

  He gave her a nod and went to the nearest chair to sit, setting the bottle of soda on the small table between the chairs. “You do that every day? I mean, isn’t that like feeling up men for a living?”

  She chuckled. “If that’s what you think I was doing.”

  Yeah, that was exactly what he was thinking of her doing—what she was doing, that was.

  He pulled off the shoes and tucked them into the box.

  “I kinda think I need a drink now.” He’d said it louder than he’d meant to and he noticed her smiling and the heat in her cheeks. Maybe he should have kept it to himself.

  “I’ll let Susan know all the tuxes have been measured for,” she said turning toward him.

  “I was the last one, huh?”

  “You were my hold out. I thought I was going to have to come out to your house. This might be cause for some celebration.”

  Now he could feel the heat rise in his cheeks. Having his body measured at her store was bad enough. Had she done that in his house…well, it was better just to stop thinking about it because now, looking at her in her perfect suit, the image what they could have done was too vivid.

  “Well, I guess we’re done. I should go,” he said after he pulled on his boots.

  She looked up at him, those blue eyes burning right into him. The shimmering gloss on her lips only accentuated the fullness of them.

  God, what was he thinking?

  “Are you still going for that drink?” she asked, and he had to think about what he’d said to prompt that.

  “Oh, right. The drink. I think I’d better.” Her eyes were still locked on him. “Would you like to join me?”

  He watched as she licked her lips, then bit down on the bottom one with her perfectly white teeth. “I thought you’d never ask. Let me get my things.”

  His lungs began to burn, and he realized again, he was holding his breath as he watched her walk away. What was he doing? Pearl Walker had a certain reputation he remembered. And he'd just been felt up by the prim and proper version.

  This just might end up being the most interesting night of his life.

  Chapter Two

  It had been worth inviting herself to tag along just to see Tyson’s expression, Pearl thought. Okay, she might have made his experience getting fitted for a tux a little too intimate. He didn’t know it wasn’t the norm and in no way did she violate him at all. She was just having some fun.

  Tyson Morgan had always been a mystery to her. Of course, he was the older brother of her friend Lydia, and he was off limits to any Walker to get to know for years. That feud between her father, grandfather, and uncle with his grandfather had simply been ego—or pride. Pearl couldn’t have been more surprised when it came out that Tyson was actually her cousin Eric’s half-brother. That only made him more intriguing. Mystery shrouded him, and Pearl liked a mystery.

  She also liked tall, muscular men who wore boots and ball caps. It didn’t hurt anything that he was twelve years older too. She liked them a little more seasoned than herself though she was no prude.

  Pearl gave herself one last look in the mirror that hung over the sink in the back room. Fetching her lipstick out of her purse, she slid it over her lips, then pressed them together. She looked like a million bucks, she thought. Oh, she’d come a long way from the heavy eyeliner, ear piercings, and black hair. She had her mother’s blonde hair. Desecrating it with jet black color made her skin look so pale, she nearly appeared dead. That had pissed her parents off. Of course, that had been the point.

  Heavy metal had blared from her stereo, and there was always a stash of stolen alcohol in the bottom of her closet. Not to mention she’d spent all of her money on fancy clove cigarettes.

  That made her laugh. Now she drank champagne and nibbled on chocolate-covered strawberries with clients. The salon had a standing appointment for her hair and nails. Over the years, she’d become a fashionable and significant member of
society.

  Still, there was a little deviousness inside of her, and it had come out when that sexy Tyson Morgan walked in her door, and she’d draped the measuring tape across his broad shoulders. Work had taken over her life, especially lately since so many members of her family were getting married. It was time to let her hair down and have some fun. And it seemed as though her body was itching to have fun with Tyson. All she had to do was make her move and make him hers.

  Tyson juggled his keys between his palms as he waited for Pearl to return from the back room. He needed to tell her he had too much to do. This wasn’t going to happen—this drink he’d mentioned.

  When she walked back into the room, he found that the man in him didn’t have the courage to tell her goodbye. She was stunning. She didn’t look any different than she had ten minutes earlier, except for fresh lipstick, but damn!

  “Where should we go?” she asked, turning off the lights in the room.

  He looked around. Even though it was still sunny outside, the room had nearly gone black.

  “Um, I don’t know. I didn’t plan on this at all.”

  The smile that formed on her lips twisted his insides. “There’s a little bar down the street. Local brewery.”

  “Alright.”

  “We can buy a sandwich from the deli next door and take it in.”

  “They let you do that?”