Renegade: A Taggart Brothers Novel

by Lisa Bingham

  At the sound of hoof beats on the lane leading up to the house, Bronte’s heart seemed to lurch in her chest. But it wasn’t Jace who galloped into the yard. It was Barry.

  Wiping her hands on a towel, she grabbed a paper sack that she’d filled with pouches of applesauce, small bags of carrots and celery, packets of animal crackers, and a pair of miniature bottles of milk.

  Pushing through the screen door, Bronte called out, “Hello, Barry! How was school today?”

  “We made piñatas out of balloons and newspapers,” he reported enthusiastically. He swung out of the saddle and carefully tied the reins to the stoop railing.

  “That sounds fun. I bet Lily wishes they’d done the same thing in her class.” Bronte looked up at the spot where Lily had sunk cross-legged onto the floor of the tree house. There was no response. “Lily’s been working hard on decorating her room. You’ll have to have her show it to you.”

  “I have some extra tractors if she needs ’em.”

  Bronte laughed. “Why don’t you ask? She picked one of Annie’s pretty quilts to put on her bed. It’s covered in flowers and butterflies. That should work with tractors, don’t you think?”

  Barry’s brow creased in a frown. “No. She needs cowboys and cows if she’s got butterflies.”

  His pronouncement was filled with conviction and punctuated with a decisive nod, so Bronte didn’t bother to ask him to explain. Clearly, Barry knew what was best.

  She handed him the sack and he started to move to the tree, but she stopped him with, “Hey, Barry?”

  He turned, his brows disappearing beneath the shock of hair that hung over his forehead. “Yeah?”

  “Do you suppose it would be okay for me to meet with Jace, just for a few minutes, as long as the girls know?” Bronte didn’t know what possessed her to even ask. She was already in Mom Purgatory for perceived indiscretions. She would be crazy to incite even more emotional outbursts.

  But as she gazed up at her daughter, Bronte realized that right now, she needed some help. Judging by the kind young man that Barry had become, Jace was no amateur in the art of child rearing.

  “Can I keep coming to see Lily after school?”

  “Of course,” she said with a smile. “We love having you. You’re a really good friend to Lily. She would be disappointed if you didn’t come play. Seems like the only time I see her smile anymore is when you come to visit.”

  “Don’t make her mad, okay?”

  Bronte prayed such a feat was possible. Kari would be angry—but lately, Kari wore her anger like a badge of honor. Lily, on the other hand …

  Lily was sad. Incredibly sad. But Bronte couldn’t get her to talk enough to determine what upset her the most—the divorce, the move, or the fact that Bronte had been seen holding Jace’s hand. Whatever the cause, it was clear that Bronte needed some outside help. Maybe with his EMT training or his own experiences with Barry, Jace could give her the name of a good pediatrician or a counselor.

  *

  BARELY a week had passed since the night on the hill, and Jace found himself wishing that he hadn’t agreed to stay away from Bronte. Now that he’d truly tasted her, caressed her, felt her come in his arms, he was like a starving man longing for a meal. There wasn’t an hour that went by that he didn’t find his thoughts wandering toward her and the passion she’d displayed in his arms.

  His distraction was unfortunately evident in his work. His brothers were giving him hell about his absentmindedness—and even the hired men were eyeing him with amusement. Try as he might, Jace couldn’t seem to rein in his thoughts and concentrate on preparing fields and drilling corn. As soon as he climbed into the cab of the tractor or his pickup, his thoughts headed down the road to Annie’s house.

  It wasn’t as if they’d stopped all contact between them. At odd times throughout the day, when Jace couldn’t stand it another second, he would send Bronte a text. She was always quick to respond. He knew that she’d managed to get the girls enrolled in the local schools and that she’d begun working with P.D.’s current baker to learn the ropes at Vern’s. He heard about each visit to the hospital and Annie’s progress and setbacks throughout the week, as well as all of the sorting and cleaning that had been going on in the house.

  But those sporadic contacts made him long to touch her even more.

  This morning, Jace’s tension had ratcheted up since he’d known that Bronte would be doing all the baking on her own at Vern’s. Knowing how nervous she’d been about going solo, he went through the morning growling at whoever dared to cross his path until Elam stomped away from him, jammed his hat on his head, and muttered, “For hell’s sake, Jace, call the woman and put us out of our misery.”

  So, with an eye on the clock, Jace waited until he was sure that she would be done with her shift at Vern’s but still had a good hour before the bus would appear with her kids.

  She answered on the first ring. “Hi.”

  “How was your first day baking on your own?”

  Her laughter skittered over his spine like the caress of her fingers.

  “Great! At first I was worried I’d made a mistake and have to remake something—P.D. has equipment in her kitchen that looks like it’s straight out of NASA control. But once I got going, I was fine. Marta did a good job of getting me used to everything.”

  “What did you make?”

  “Easy stuff, since it was my first day in charge. A banana blueberry loaf, an artisan bread with spinach and feta cheese, and P.D.’s beer bread.” Again, she laughed. “I opened more bottles of beer in one morning than I’ve opened in my life! Then I rounded out the day by making chocolate chip cookies the size of a saucer.”

  “And … do you like your new job?”

  “Yeah.” The word emerged in a sigh of pure pleasure. “The rest of the staff has been great.” There was a pause, then, “Where are you?”

  He felt a prickling of awareness at the mere question. “I’m loading the corn drill down by angle field.”

  “Translation, please.”

  This time it was his turn to laugh. “Why?”

  “I want to meet you.”

  “I thought we weren’t going to see each other for a while.” He forced himself to remind her of their pact, even though a jolt of heat had gone straight to his groin.

  “Yeah, but I talked it over with Barry, then mentioned to the kids that I needed to have a quick conversation with you today.”

  “How did they take it?”

  “Kari rolled her eyes and made a rude noise. Lily …” She sighed. “Well, Lily is part of the reason why I want to talk to you.” Jace heard the thread of concern in her voice. “Do you have a minute? The girls won’t be home for more than an hour. And I have cookies,” she added temptingly.

  “Well, if you have cookies,” he teased, wondering what it was about Bronte that lifted his mood simply with the sound of her voice. “Behind Annie’s house, next to the creek, there’s an old service road. Follow it about a mile until you come to the gate. I’ll be there in five minutes.”

  “Okay, but make it ten. I’m still in town.”

  “Ten it is.”

  Jace finished filling the bins with seed, then glanced at his phone. He had enough time. Jogging to the end of the field where he’d parked his truck, he climbed inside, his tires spitting dirt and gravel as he raced to the far end of the canal road where the tilled earth butted up against one of the prime pastures used to hold the mares and their colts. Stopping at the water trough, he opened the spigot of a pump drilled deep into the earth and waited for the fresh, clean water to begin gurgling out. Quickly, he washed his hands, then splashed more water on his face and the back of his neck. Then he climbed in his truck again, and spun toward the track that led to the service road.

  He arrived only minutes later, but Bronte’s familiar van was already parked on the other side of the gate. As soon as he pulled to a stop, she stepped from the driver’s side.

  She was dressed simply—a pair of f
aded jeans and a pale blue shirt. But the sight of her was enough to cause his heart to knock against his chest and his blood to flow like slow, hot molasses through his veins. As he dropped from the truck, he surreptitiously adjusted himself, already hardening at the mere thought of being closer to her again. Holy hell, what she did to him. Just the memory of her exploding against him in hedonistic joy could get him going.

  “Hey, there.”

  She sauntered toward him, her hips swaying in unconscious pronouncement of her femininity. As Jace climbed over the gate, she held a white paper sack aloft as well as a plastic bottle of milk.

  “I brought you an after-school snack—or whatever it is you ranchers have at about this time of day.”

  As soon as she was close enough, Jace snagged her around the waist.

  “How about we call it a ‘quickie.’” The words burst from his lips without thinking and Jace could have kicked himself. Damn, damn, damn. He was trying to be cool about things. The last thing he wanted to do was rush Bronte or make her feel pressured. But even though her cheeks flamed, her smile was mischievous.

  “Somehow, I don’t think our first time will be all that quick.”

  Will be.

  He wrapped his arms even more tightly around her back, letting her know the effect she had on him. He felt, rather than heard, the way her breath hitched. Then she draped her wrists around his neck, the bottle of milk resting coolly between his shoulder blades. But even the chilly plastic couldn’t draw his attention away from the softness of her body or the beauty of her smile.

  Then she was lifting on tiptoe for his kiss and he willingly met her halfway, his mouth crashing over hers, immediately bidding entrance.

  She sighed, opening her lips, and he felt her moan against him.

  Hungrily, he swept inside, tasting her natural sweetness as well as a faint hint of chocolate and vanilla. His hands swept over her hips, her rear, knowing that this was what he had been longing for all week. Her passion, her unfettered enthusiasm, her innate femininity.

  Again and again, he plundered her mouth—and Bronte gave as good as she got. At some point, the milk jug and sack fell to the ground. She began stroking his spine, his shoulders, burrowing beneath his shirt with fingers that felt cool against his hot skin. Then, Lord help him, she tunneled beneath the stricture of his belt, cupping his bare buttocks with her palms.

  Jace thought that he couldn’t get any more aroused. But his blood was raging, all of it seeming to flow toward his groin. He turned to press Bronte against the sturdy railroad tie that supported the heavy gate. When he ground against her soft hips, she broke free to laugh softly.

  “I missed you, too,” she whispered.

  He grinned against her. “Good.”

  Her eyes were bright and sparkling with humor and passion. Jace was struck dumb. He didn’t think that he’d ever seen anything more beautiful than the radiance of her smile. Then he was kissing her again, more slowly this time, drinking deeply of her sweetness, reveling in the rush of possession and passion that swamped him as their tongues intimately tangled.

  He forced himself to slow things down. Beneath his hands, she felt so small and delicate. She was still too thin—like a bird that had worn itself out after being blown off course. But there was a resiliency to her body, and an innate strength to the arms that still held him tight.

  When she finally pulled away, she was breathing as hard as he was. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes sparkled.

  “Maybe you should eat your cookies. They’re going to get trampled.”

  “To hell with the cookies,” he said against her lips, then his mouth wandered to the spot beneath her ear and he felt her shiver against him.

  “I-I worked very hard on them.”

  Realizing that she might still have doubts about her ability to bake on the large scale that would be demanded at Vern’s, he traced the line of her jaw with the tip of his tongue—knowing that no dessert could equal the taste and texture of her skin. Then, reluctantly, he drew back.

  “Maybe a bite, then.”

  Desire flared in her gaze—and he knew that she’d interpreted him correctly. The cookies weren’t all he wanted to nibble on.

  As she reached for the sack, Jace leaned his back against the gate, pulling her with him, until their limbs were intimately entwined. When she broke off a piece of the chocolate chip cookie, he didn’t release her. He merely opened his mouth.

  She hesitated before slipping the bite inside. But before she could draw completely away, he caught her wrist and kept her there, sucking on the end of one finger and her thumb.

  Her eyes flickered in delight and she moaned.

  “You are a dangerous, dangerous man, Jace Taggart,” she whispered.

  His tongue roamed over her fingers, absorbing melted chocolate and the natural saltiness of her skin. Heaven itself couldn’t have tasted any better. When she finally lowered her hand, he chewed absently on the cookie, absorbing a mixture of dark sugars, earthy walnuts, silken chocolate.

  And Bronte.

  How was it possible that a woman could wrap herself around his heart and mind so quickly? They’d known each other only a few weeks, but he couldn’t imagine a day without some kind of contact with her.

  When his eyes drifted open, he saw an echo of his own thoughts in her eyes. Passion, wonder, and a shadow of disbelief. As if something that had flared up this quickly would be as easily doused.

  Jace leaned forward, kissing her softly, carefully, wanting to reassure her that what they were experiencing wasn’t fleeting. That it could be more—even as his mind shied away from what more might mean. He only knew that he wanted—needed—to preserve this fragile beginning. He couldn’t push too hard, too fast, or too far. Hell, Bronte had only come to terms with the dissolution of her marriage. And her kids …

  Her kids probably hated his guts. Or they would, if they caught even a hint of what Jace wanted to do with Bronte.

  Knowing that he had to throw on the brakes while he still had the ability to do so, Jace finally drew away—slowly, reluctantly. But unable to sever the link entirely, he continued to hold her, his forehead resting against Bronte’s.

  “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

  She wiggled her hips against him. “I have a fair idea.”

  A sound that was half laugh, half groan pushed through his throat.

  “If you keep this up, there’s no way you’ll get to the bus on time.”

  She started, shoving the food into his arms. “Oh, heck.”

  Jace couldn’t help laughing again. “Such colorful language.”

  She glanced at her watch, and he saw the panic of a harried mother. “I wanted to talk to you about something, but I’ve got to go.”

  She lifted on tiptoe to kiss him again. But what started as a quick farewell lingered and lingered until they were both breathless. Then, with a groan, Bronte broke free. Wriggling out of his arms, Bronte hurried backward toward her car. “Can I meet you again tomorrow? Maybe a little earlier so we have time to do more than”—she made a vague gesture with her hand—“you know.”

  “I’d love to … ‘you know.’”

  She grinned, nearly taking his breath away yet again. “Text me tonight?” she asked as she opened the van door. “I’d much rather have you call, but Kari has the hearing of a bat, and if she heard me talking to you, she’d have her ear pressed up against the keyhole.”

  That would be the stuff of nightmares considering the things Jace wanted to say to Bronte. If Kari caught wind of Jace’s hunger for her mother, he was sure he’d be struck dead by the withering glances she would throw his way. Only that morning, he’d driven past the bus stop to casually make sure the girls were safe on the lane next to the main road, and Kari must have sensed the true nature of his errand. If he’d been any closer, his hair would have caught on fire.

  “I’ll get ahold of you around eleven. Or is that too late? I know you have to get up early.”

  She bit her li
p in that endearing manner that he was beginning to recognize whenever she faced a dilemma. “Any earlier and Kari won’t be fast asleep. I probably should be in bed by then, too, but …” Her expression radiated a warmth that had the ability to burrow into his chest and wrap around his heart. “I need to hear from you. Even if we can’t talk for long.” With a final wave, she climbed into her car and started the engine.

  Although Jace knew he’d be cutting it close to finish his fields before the allotted time, he still found himself loath to move until she’d turned the van around and disappeared down the lane in a cloud of dust.

  Finally, he scooped up the sack and the milk jug, climbed the fence, and jogged to his own vehicle. After revving the engine and executing a tight turn in the narrow lane, he hurried back to the fields.

  Unfortunately, as soon as he rounded the bend, he could see that his “unauthorized break” had already been noticed. Elam’s truck was parked on the lane beside the tractor, along with the smaller pickup used by the hired men. Bodey’s rig was only a few yards behind.

  “Damnit.”

  Jace rolled to a stop and killed the engine. Then, grabbing the sack and the milk, he strode through the field to where his brothers stood by the tractor and their hired hands waited impatiently in their vehicle.

  As soon as he got close enough, Bodey began to grin in a way that left no doubts that he was itching to give Jace a hard time.

  Elam, on the other hand, tipped back the brim of his hat and offered Jace an all-knowing gaze that could only be meted out by an older brother.

  “It’s about time you got back. We’ve been waiting for twenty minutes,” Elam said drily. He gestured to the sack. “Did you decide to eat rather than work?”

  Jace fought the urge to flip his brother off. “Bronte dropped by with a snack.”