Her Rebel Heart

by Jamie Farrell

  He switched off the fuel valve and checked the pressure gauge. Higher, but not dangerously so. “Does your ex-husband know you call him Ol’ Grandpappy?”

  “He knows I think he’s an old geezer.”

  “And he still gets jealous over you being with other men.”

  “The man has issues.”

  He didn’t bother holding in a laugh.

  “And I’m one to talk,” she said cheerfully. “Go on, plant that diamond in that tree up there.”

  He slid the strap over his head and pointed the cannon toward a towering pine fifty yards down the way. Firing from the hip made it hard to know for sure if he was lined up, but it felt right.

  He hit the igniter three times.

  The force of a giant THWOMP from the end of the barrel pushed him back a step. There was a crack, and the top of the straggly pine shook.

  A primal surge of satisfaction flowed through his veins.

  Kaci jumped up beside him. “Uh-oh.”

  “Uh-oh?”

  He glanced down at the potato gun.

  Still pink, still in one piece.

  She pointed. “You done took off the top of that tree.”

  As they watched, the top fifteen feet or so of the pine wobbled, then slowly toppled, crashing end over end into the forest below with a rustling, muted crash.

  “Who’d you say owns this land?”

  “It’s the backside of a national forest,” she whispered.

  He scooped up a third potato and shoved it into the barrel. “So I should hurry?”

  “Might not be a bad idea.”

  It took less than thirty seconds for him to shove Allison’s wedding band into the potato and finish loading the gun.

  And the satisfaction that came from shooting it far, far over the trees wasn’t something he could’ve gotten from flying a plane, drinking with his buddies, or even getting laid.

  It was a farewell. A farewell, and a true welcome to Georgia.

  And he felt lighter than he’d ever thought he could be here.

  They packed up the potato gun and hustled back to Kaci’s Jeep.

  “So,” she said once they were safely back on the road, “you have dinner plans?”

  He let his hand slide down her thigh and squeezed the firm muscle. “Hope so.”

  She flashed that impish grin his way, complete with a promise of what she wanted to do to him once they were off the road, and for that moment—and several hours afterward—all was right in his world.

  Chapter 14

  Tuesday morning, while Miss Higgs was home with Tara and while Kaci could’ve been in her lab running numbers, she booked her airplane ticket to Germany.

  Her stomach knotted so hard she almost had to bend over, but it was done.

  She was going to Stuttgart. She’d present her research and subsequent hypotheses to some of the world’s most brilliant minds. The stuffy old billy goats who had run the Physics Department here at James Robert for decades wouldn’t be able to keep her out.

  Because after she did Stuttgart, she’d apply to go to other conferences. She’d put on her professor face, and she’d show them all that she could do it.

  And no one else would ever have to know she’d been afraid to get on an airplane.

  She was still perspiring, though, when someone knocked on her office door. She fanned her blouse and took a slow, even breath. “It’s open,” she called.

  And dang if Ron Kelly himself didn’t walk in.

  She barely kept herself from rolling her eyes. “Dr. Kelly.”

  “Great news,” he said. “I’m going with you to Stuttgart.”

  “The hell you say.”

  “My department chair saw your planned topic, and he thought it would be good for me to be there in case you need backup.”

  She didn’t realize she’d risen to her feet until her chair crashed into the metal blinds on the window behind her desk. “I. Do. Not. Need. Backup.”

  He held his hands out. “Support,” he amended. “For your first conference. And since we’re both working on efficient combustion—”

  “Out.” She should’ve let Lance fire him out of that potato gun last night. “Get. Out.”

  “Kaci, if you’ll think about it a minute, you’ll understand that this is good for—”

  “You,” she spat. “This is good for you.”

  “The benefits of the combination of physical and chemical combustion—”

  “Is covered in six research papers I’ve had published in Physics Today and is a concept I fully support. I will find a chemist to work with, and when I do, Dr. Kelly, it will be a chemist selected for his or her knowledge, intelligence, and capability to fit within my team.” She pointed so hard, her knuckle throbbed. “Once more, Dr. Kelly, remove yourself from my office.”

  He ran a hand over his graying hair. “I don’t know what I’ve done to offend you—”

  “Dr. Kelly,” a smooth voice interjected from the hallway, “I believe you’re keeping Dr. Boudreaux from her work.”

  Dr. Kwami, her dean, folded his arms over his massive chest and stared down his nose at Ron.

  Ron gave her one last glance, then muttered something to himself while he left her office.

  Letting a man tell him to leave when Kaci herself telling him to leave hadn’t worked.

  “My research belongs here,” she said to her dean.

  Dr. Kwami settled into the plastic chair on the other side of her desk and pushed the door closed. He propped a dress shoe over one knee. “You’ve been having troubles.”

  She pinched her lips together.

  “I can’t fix issues if I’m unaware of them.”

  “With all due respect, neither of us can turn me into a man, and I wouldn’t let you even if you could.”

  A glimmer of a smile turned his lips up, but his dark eyes stayed serious. “I agree. Your research needs to stay here in our department.”

  Her fingers slowly uncurled.

  He tugged at the black tie over his crisp white shirt. “A student reported overhearing another professor making derogatory comments about you. Has someone from our department been harassing you?”

  “Dr. Kwami, I’ve lived in this world so long, I wouldn’t recognize harassment if it walked up behind me and licked my ass.” And if he wanted to fire her for saying ass, so be it.

  She’d build a shack out in the woods and sell potato guns out of her garage.

  “I don’t tolerate harassment, Kaci. Nor do I tolerate my professors undermining one another, especially to the students. You belong here. You’re making a difference. If you have issues, give them to me. We need you inspiring these kids and working in your lab. Understood?”

  “I didn’t get where I am by being a tattletale.”

  “My daughter wants to be an astronaut, Dr. Boudreaux. I’d like to think she’ll have a safe place to learn, but that starts with us. With you and me. We can’t fix a problem if we don’t address it.”

  “And not every problem has a solution. Not when people get involved.”

  “Let me try.” He stood. “I’ll have a talk with the dean of the chemistry department. Dr. Kelly won’t be an issue anymore.”

  Right.

  Because Ron’s dean would respond to a man, whereas Kaci would just be a hysterical woman who wasn’t mature enough to handle working with her ex-husband.

  “This is my job as your boss, Kaci. Let me handle the people. You handle the physics.” He flashed a rare smile, white teeth glinting against his dark face. “And knock ’em dead in Stuttgart.”

  “I don’t want Dr. Kelly going to Stuttgart. He’s going to try to claim my research as his own or at least take credit for some of it.”

  And there she went, whining to her boss about her ex-husband.

  “I won’t let that happen. Keep up the good work, Dr. Boudreaux.”

  She sank back into her chair, hopeful relief making her limbs weary.

  Keep up the good work? She’d do her darnedest.
r />   She always did.

  * * *

  Kaci’s plans for Saturday morning had been to let Lance think he was going to give her another hour of flight-prep training, but seduce him in her living room instead while Tara was working the day shift.

  But Lance’s plans for Saturday morning turned out to be something different.

  “Come with me,” he said from her doorway. He had a pair of aviator sunglasses on top of his head and a brown leather jacket over a white thermal T-shirt. She wanted to yank him inside and not even bother with the pretense of doing flight-prep training, but he wouldn’t budge. “We’re on a timeline. We have to go. Now.”

  Curiosity got the better of her. “Can Miss Higgs come?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  Since that was his grown-up pilot jock voice, she didn’t argue. “How long are we out for?”

  “Back by noon.”

  She arranged an impromptu playdate for Miss Higgs with the Hamms across the hall and squeezed the cat extra tight before she left. Miss Higgs gave her a frosted eye roll, as if to say Chill, lady. I’m not dying while you’re gone today.

  Kaci certainly hoped the cat was telling the truth.

  And she owed the Hamms a nice gift certificate to their favorite Southern buffet.

  “Where are we going?” she asked while she followed Lance to the parking lot. “Do I need my spud launcher?”

  He flipped his glasses over his eyes and gave her an ovary-exploding smile. “Trust me.”

  “You get a watermelon cannon?” she asked.

  He laughed. “No.”

  “We shooting bottle rockets?”

  “Nope.”

  “Goin’ muddin’?”

  “I didn’t say you were going to like it,” he said with a cocky grin.

  She thought he was kidding.

  But ten minutes later, he pulled in front of a metal-sided shed before a tarmac lined with propeller planes.

  “Oh, no,” she started.

  “Trust me?”

  “You still owe me another hour on that game thingie.”

  “You’re ready, Kaci.” He squeezed her knee. “You can do this.”

  Her frozen lungs didn’t agree.

  Neither did the piston firing in her chest.

  “It’s like a Band-Aid,” he said. “Just rip it off.”

  She was going to hurl.

  This wasn’t a Band-Aid she was ready to rip off. She needed mental preparation time. She needed a paper bag. She needed a happy pill.

  Lance pulled her door open. “Where’s that badass pumpkin chucker I know? Come on. It’ll be fun.”

  Somehow she got out of the truck.

  Her legs wobbled, but he had a firm grip on her hand.

  And he didn’t even comment on how ice-cold her fingers were.

  “If I die, you damn well better take care of my cat,” she forced out.

  “You got it, Pixie-lou.”

  He pushed her into the meatlocker that doubled as the office for the private runway. A dude in a Hawaiian shirt greeted Lance by name, then passed over a clipboard. He didn’t seem to notice how frigid the room was. Nor did Lance. Not a goose bump or shiver from either of them.

  She sank onto a blue-and-red pinstriped couch that had seen better days and springier cushions. If Lance noticed her head hanging between her knees, he didn’t comment.

  She didn’t think.

  She couldn’t entirely hear over the roar in her ears.

  “C’mon, Kace. We’re ready.” His hand was hot on the back of her neck. His thumb rubbed into her hairline, and despite herself, a longing pull pulsed deep in her center. His breath tickled her ear. “Got a big reward for anyone brave enough to get in a plane with me today.”

  “Evil,” she gasped out.

  “You’re going to Germany. We’re not letting those fuckers win.”

  That did it.

  She was still light-headed, but she shoved to her feet and snapped her spine straight. “Don’t make me hate you for this.”

  He looped an arm around her waist and steered her toward the back door. “You’re going to love me for this.”

  Their plane was a single-propeller Cessna with room for four passengers. It smelled like old sweat and burnt jet fuel. He swung open the passenger-side door, a thin sheet of metal with a flimsy latch.

  “Sweet baby jalapeño,” she whispered.

  He slapped a white paper bag on the blue leather seats covered in sheepskin. “Barf bag,” he said. “Just in case. You want to walk around it with me, or you gonna stand here?”

  “Stand.” Maybe drop to the ground and hug it and ask it not to let her leave. Pray to the flight gods.

  Squeeze her eyes shut and pretend her daddy was here to reassure her.

  He’d loved flying. Loved being in the air. Her memories had gotten hazier as she’d gotten older, but she still remembered the unique scent of his flight suit, a combination of cotton, grease, and gasoline. The way his smile would light up the whole house when he came in from flying a day mission. The stories he’d tell about bending the laws of physics in his fighter jet.

  Too soon, two arms encircled her and pulled her against warm leather. “All good on the outside.” Lance pressed a kiss to the top of her hair. “Climb on up. I’ll talk you through everything.”

  Her toes felt as though they were lead bricks, but she let him boost her into the seat. There was a space-age steering wheel sticking out of her side of the dash identical to the one in front of Lance’s seat.

  She also had pedals at her feet.

  He closed her in, and she was suddenly ridiculously aware of how little space there was inside the aircraft.

  She was within two inches of being outside.

  Which meant she’d be within two inches of being outside once they were airborne.

  “Breathe, Kaci,” she whispered to herself while she clutched the white barf bag.

  The whole aircraft shuddered when Lance climbed inside. He tossed his jacket in the backseat and grinned at her.

  She blew another breath out her nose and closed her eyes.

  This thing was supposed to survive flying through the air.

  Another shudder went through the plane.

  He’d turned on the engine.

  She was in an airplane. About to leave the ground.

  “Here.” He passed her a set of headphones with a slender microphone. “Any questions, just ask. And trust me—this will be fun.”

  Fun.

  Right.

  She forced a practiced beauty queen smile. She could do this. She could be brave.

  He wouldn’t take her up in the air in a plane that wasn’t airworthy. He wouldn’t put her in danger. He wouldn’t push her if she couldn’t do this.

  She could do this.

  His lips spread in that heart-stopping grin. “That’s my girl.”

  She clapped the headphones over her ears.

  Too few minutes later, after he’d made a thousand notations in a notebook and flipped a half dozen switches and checked every last readout and gauge on the dash—telling her exactly what he was doing each time—they rolled away from the building and across the postage stamp-sized parking area to the edge of the runway.

  She was going to be fine. Lance knew what he was doing. They’d both survive.

  But her breath rushed in and out too shallow and that pinch in her forehead was spreading into her brain and her fingertips were numb.

  “With me, Kaci?” his voice said through the headphones.

  She pressed her lips together and nodded.

  “Hey.”

  Black dots danced in her vision.

  No. No, she wouldn’t hyperventilate and pass out. Not again.

  She was doing this, dammit.

  Her nails sliced into her palms.

  A solid, steady hand cupped the back of her head.

  But instead of pushing her forward, head between her knees in a classic get-over-yourself pose, he pulled her in to his waiting li
ps and devoured her mouth.

  Warmth flooded back into her fingertips. Her breathing evened out, then went ragged again, but this was a good ragged. His tongue slid against hers, his fingers kneaded her scalp, and she melted into him.

  His rumble of approval sent a jolt of heat straight to her core.

  But when she grabbed onto the corded steel of his forearms, he pulled back from the kiss. “That’s my girl,” he murmured. “Ready?”

  She lifted his sunglasses so she could see the smile dancing in his eyes too. “Yes.”

  “Good.”

  He gave her seatbelt a tug, adjusted his pants, and clicked a button. He said something into his headpiece that she didn’t hear, and a minute later, they were rolling down the runway.

  Picking up speed.

  Faster.

  And faster.

  And faster.

  Until—

  “Oh, my sweet baby Jar Jar Binks, are we flying?”

  “You bet your sweet ass we are,” came Lance’s cocky response.

  The plane shuddered and dipped, but he kept smiling.

  And the green patch of ground and houses beneath them kept getting farther and farther away.

  “Breathe through it, Kace. Don’t want you to miss this beautiful view.”

  Despite the panic dancing at the edges of her brain, she couldn’t deny he was right about the view.

  She could see so much of the earth from here. Treetops. Roofs. Half the base. “Is that the golf course?”

  “Yep. You play?”

  “Nah, but I’ve modified a club or two.”

  His chuckle chased away the lingering panic.

  She was flying. Soaring above the ground. With physics keeping them aloft in a plane Lance had declared airworthy.

  “Do all pilots check their planes like you do?”

  “Hell yes.”

  The plane dipped again.

  So did Kaci’s stomach.

  “Normal turbulence,” he said. “Like being on a roller coaster.”

  He was right.

  Despite the dips and the way the plane seemed to sway from side to side occasionally, it kept flying straight. He made adjustments with the pedals and the wheel thingie, and soon they were flying over the national forest where Lance had launched his rings, headed toward mostly harvested farmland.