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.

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

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

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.