Breaking A Bad Boy

by Susan Arden

  “CALL me,” Rory said. “I’ll pick you up and we’ll go to the barbeque together.”

  “Possessive much?” Sommer asked, leaning over and pressing her lip-glossed mouth to his.

  If she only knew. “Where you’re concerned, I am. So sue me,” he whispered against her mouth.

  He walked around to her side of the truck and opened her door, lifting her down from the cab. She slid along his legs, her boots in her hand, her long hair flowing…everything about Sommer teasing him for another taste.

  “Rory,” she murmured, spilling a sip of her sweet breath.

  He kissed her firmly on her swollen lips, groaning into her mouth as she melded to him.

  From what he could tell, she wasn’t far behind him. Rory sucked her bottom lip, feeling himself slipping… and getting hard. Harder still as he recalled the way she rode his cock with her amazing mouth last night.

  When she straightened, he clenched his jaw, rubbing his hands down to her ass cheeks for one last squeeze. “I’ll see you later,” he grunted, not wanting to let her go. The feeling of having his chest ripped open with a spoon couldn’t have been worse when she stepped back from him.

  “Later, baby,” she murmured and pushed open the gate of the white picket fence that went across the front of her mom’s house, separating the sidewalk from a large colorful garden. The Kincaids had lived there for as long as he’d known Sommer. A few years back, her dad divorced her mom. Frank Kincaid remarried and lived over in Clarkesville now, with his new wife and her kids. From what Sommer relayed, she didn’t get to see her dad often.

  His baby waved when she got to her front door and he nodded, tipping his hat. What he’d give to marry her!

  Inside his truck, he pulled away from the curb and reached for his cell phone, pressing the auto dial for his dad. “Hey, you got a second?” he asked when his father answered.

  “Where are you at?” Wade McLemore replied.

  “I’m on my way back now,” he said, and before his dad could say another word, he added, “I want to talk to you and Momma.”

  “Son, anything happen last night that I should know about? You didn’t make it back home from what I saw.” Wade’s voice turned serious.

  “Nothing except that I’m ready to discuss what I need to do…to acquire my share of Evermore.”

  Silence on the other end, then his dad spoke up, “Yep. I guess this day has been a long time coming. I’ll see what your momma’s up to this morning. I think she’s out in the garden with Miss Louisa. You come on home and we’ll talk.”

  Before going home, he returned to Brandon’s house and pulled the sheets off the bed and put them in the laundry. He’d come back and make up the bed later; not that he was going to try and hide him spending the night there. Just didn’t want his brother or Mia to be put out.

  By the time he pulled into a parking spot next to the barn, the crews were already there. A cattle drive was underway, or had been last week. Now came the time to vaccinate and decide which head were to be sold off and which were going to be bred. Fall breeding wasn’t as busy as the spring, but still it wasn’t a time for slacking off, and arriving back at the ranch after seven in the morning got him noticed.

  “Where the hell have you been?” Stephen said coming out of the barn with a coil of rope looped over his shoulder.

  “I had an errand to run. But brother, you aren’t my keeper.”

  “Touchy.” Stephen grinned. “This have anything to do you with you being over at Brandon’s? All of last night?”

  Rory closed his eyes for a second and clenched his jaw. “Don’t start on me.”

  Stephen peered over the rim of his sunglasses. “It’s my job. Just do right by Sommer, you hear? No screwing around on her.”

  “I wouldn’t ever do that to her,” he replied in harsh tone.

  His brother’s eyebrows shot up. “I see,” he said, but didn’t say anything further for a second, readjusting the coil of rope on his shoulder. “You need to talk…’bout anything?”

  “Maybe, but not about what you’re thinking.”

  “Then what?” Stephen walked over to the pen where Rory’s prized stallion waited to be exercised and attended. His brother was actually covering his ass. Exercising that fiery horse from hell was his job.

  “First, give me the rope, and then tell me what’d you have to do to get your piece of land? Anything special?”

  Stephen inhaled, glancing toward the ground then back up at Rory, lifting his sunglasses up on his head. “You wanting to move out and get your own place?”

  “Yep. Either here or in town.”

  “You’re of age, so I doubt there will be an argument. Mom and Dad will just want to talk. The piece of property is already decided. Sometimes, there are options. Not for Matt or me. Brandon got a choice because of the ranch acquiring more property. Miller also got a choice because he had no intention of building. There’s no test. You’re in by virtue of being a McLemore.

  “That’s it?” he asked, knotting the end of the rope.

  “Yep. Looks like another McLemore is ready to stake his claim.” Stephen held out his hand.

  “I’m more than ready.” Rory clasped his brother’s hand and got firm shake along with a thump on the back while Stephen chuckled heartily.

  “I’ll see to this ornery horse then I need a few minutes to speak with Dad and Mom,” Rory said.

  “Today isn’t going to be crazy. The cattle are being vaccinated by Matt with Carolina acting as ranch vet from the safety of their home. Brandon is going to be here in a few minutes,” Stephen commented.

  “What?” Rory exhaled. “Shit.”

  “Something happen?”

  “I got some laundry in the washer over at his place.”

  “Simmer down. I’ll go and take care of it.”

  He watched Stephen walk toward a ranch Jeep, climb in and mock salute him as he drove off.

  OPENING the side door to his parents’ home—his home too—but now, the sensation was slightly stifling, as though the walls were closing in. Walking inside the mud room, he removed his boots; but instead of changing shoes, he headed for the backstairs. He went up to his bedroom and rapidly showered, then dressed in clean work clothes. No time to shave, and on a day like today that included sweating buckets from a blazing sun overhead, it was easier to keep the scruff rather than deal with razor burn.

  He was back downstairs in less than fifteen minutes, and approached the beehive of the house. The kitchen. Sure enough, Momma and Miss Louisa were inside, already working on lunch. Not as many of them here today, but then again he might be wrong if Brandon was indeed headed back to Evermore. Christ, he’d thought that his brother and Mia would spend the holiday in Dallas. They might be headed back home, considering his parents were having a dinner tonight. It was more for the married folks, family and friends who would join his parents. His unmarried cousins and his single uncle ventured into town, or over to Clarkesville or Paris for the night.

  “Morning Momma. Miss Louisa,” he said, coming into the kitchen and snagging a biscuit.

  “Boy, you want some breakfast,” Miss Louisa inquired.

  “No, Ma’am,” he answered and meandered to the counter as his mother looked up over her glasses from a recipe card. “What are you all making?”

  “More like arguing,” Momma said. Sarah McLemore and Miss Louisa ran the kitchen and frequently tussled over whose recipe won out.

  “Since we have all the ingredients for my peach cobbler, we should just make my version.” Miss Louisa smiled and started up the burner, placing an iron skillet on the flame. His mother was already at the refrigerator, bringing out a wire basket of eggs.

  “I like both versions,” he said, pouring himself a cup of coffee and secretly smirking. He’d miss their banter, but it was time.

  He turned around just as his mother cracked an egg into a bowl and Miss Louisa poured a glass of juice.

  “C’mon. Your breakfast is almost ready,” Miss Louisa rema
rked.

  “But—” he started to say.

  “Hush, Rory,” Sarah replied and turned to Miss Louisa. “A compromise. Your cobbler and my lima bean casserole.”

  “You drive a hard bargain, Sarah.”

  “Likewise, Louisa.”

  The side door slammed and he heard the distinctive sound of his father’s footsteps traveling down the hall. Wade McLemore cleared the doorway, his face turned toward Sarah. His mother’s complexion slightly colored and a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. He’d seen that look all of his life.

  He wanted to see that same look overtake Sommer’s features when he entered the kitchen—in his and Sommer’s house.

  Wade nodded to him and went over to the table, a folder in his hand. Dad sat down and Momma joined him, rubbing her knuckle against his father’s shoulder as she sat. Usually she held court at one end of the table, but right now it was just the four of them here. Rory took a seat across from his mother at the table.

  Miss Louisa set a plate in front of him loaded with eggs, toast, and hash browns. “No bacon. Bad for cholesterol,” she commented.

  “This is more than I’d bargained for. Thank you,” he said, picking up his fork. Yeah, things were changing around here, and no way to stall time.

  His father removed a pair of reading glasses from his pocket and opened the folder. A folder Rory noticed was labeled with his name. Inside were neat stacks of papers. Legal documents. The first stack resembled a will from the looks of the top page. His father flipped through the stacks below, then stopped and removed a folded document. A land survey, and he placed it on the table and turned it toward Rory. “Son, here’s your piece of Evermore.”

  His mother’s eyes met his—hers glassy—and she blinked rapidly, tapping the survey with her fingertip. “It’s a beautiful piece of land. Over by the pond.”

  “Sure is,” he replied gruffly. He knew of the property. Lush. Green. And up on the northwestern ridge. As kids, he, his brothers, sister, and cousins swam at the pond. This was the one place he’d never imagined receiving. It was—in his opinion—the best spot on Evermore.

  “Twenty acres,” Wade said and gifted him with a rare smile. His father was a man of few words and even fewer grins.

  “My,” Miss Louisa said. “Lovely place. Thank the Lord and your folks, Rory. That’s a sweet slice of Evermore.”

  “The pond isn’t included, but your property abuts to the grove of trees. It’s no more than twenty yards from the property line to the farthest edge of the pond.”

  Rory nodded, fingering the survey, then cleared his throat. “It’s perfect.”

  His momma laughed. “We thought you’d like it.”

  “We try to match the land to the recipient,” his father said, pointing to the survey.

  Well that made sense. Matt had his spot near the river, a place he’d spent as a teenager, shooting and hosting bonfires with his friends. Stephen had his own place off the grasslands on the far ridge, overlooking a motocross trail he’d cut and rode as a kid. Brandon had an isolated location overlooking a bluff; the place he’d gone to get away when he needed his space. And Miller opted to keep his land with a corral and barn, housing a mixture of motorcycles, a Jeep, and only god knew what else in that locked office of his. Close to the road. Miller’s wife refused to live anywhere other than right next door to her dad, in some private golf community over near Paris.

  “What about Cory?” he asked, curious to know which part of Evermore she would receive.

  “You’ll know after we tell her.” Momma smiled and arched a brow.

  “Fair enough,” he said and inhaled.

  “We’ll have the property re-marked. There are flags for utilities already in place,” Dad relayed.

  “If you know where to look,” Rory replied. With all the plots, there were flags, but which ones belonged to which boundary?

  “Let me see,” his father said, adjusting his glasses on his nose. “Yours are blue. Light blue. The surveyors will be out either this week or next, since the builder will require…if you’re going to build a house. Are you?”

  “I’m definitely building here,” he said, turning around the survey.

  The sound of the front door opening and closing rang out, followed by the low mewing pitch of his sister-in-law cooing. “Chelsea and Gillian,” Miss Louisa remarked. “Do we have a bottle for our Little Miss?”

  Sarah’s brows knitted together. “I’m not certain, but Gillian will have whatever Chelsea needs, of that I’m very sure.”

  Gillian cleared the doorway, walking into the kitchen with his niece. Chelsea was four months old, and he’d learned fast—with Matt’s children and now Stephen’s daughter—how to feed, burp, and even change a diaper or two when he’d babysat.

  “Hey all,” Gill greeted everyone, lifting her baby carrier to the table. Rory came out of his chair and helped her.

  “Let me,” he said, taking the handle.

  She smiled and her green eyes met his. “Took care of some laundry at Brandon’s.”

  “Why on earth for? Is your washer and dryer acting up?” Sarah inquired.

  “No. I promised to get some linens done for Mia when she was in Dallas. Fall cleaning.” Gillian winked at him and then punched his arm. “You owe me,” she said under her breath.

  He’d throttle Stephen when he saw him next. Instead of losing his cool, he moved his plate and adjusted the baby carrier so he could keep an eye on Chelsea as he ate his breakfast.

  “What’s going on?” Gillian said as she hoisted a baby bag onto the table and unzipped the top.

  “I just received my plot,” Rory said in between bites. “Over by the pond.”

  Gillian held three baby bottles, and laughed. “Pretty sweet.”

  “Oh thank goodness,” Miss Louisa said, reaching for the bottles.

  His mother commented, “We’re running short on cereal. The organic rice with bananas. Chelsea sure likes that one.”

  Gillian smiled, digging out a box and handed it over before turning back to him. “When are you moving out?” she asked then frowned. “Not that I mean you should. Right away?”

  “I’d like to soon. Start with a trailer.”

  “What in tarnation?” his father huffed. “What’s the rush?”

  “Just want a place of my own. Get a feel for the land and then start building.”

  Wade and Sarah exchanged a look, not lost on him or anyone. “Well, there’s a trailer up for sale. Your cousin’s place is finished and I’m sure, he’s not going to keep it.”

  “I’ll inquire,” Rory said, wiping his mouth and rocking the baby carrier. He finished the last of his coffee and folded the property specs. “Can I get a copy of these?”

  “This file is yours,” Wade said, entwining his fingers with Momma’s. His father lifted Sarah McLemore’s hand and kissed her knuckles, gazing over at her. “You did real good. Thank you. Six children and they all have made me proud.”

  His parents insisted that they take a drive over on the way out to the barn. “Rory, it’s customary. Was for all your brothers, and now for you too,” his mom remarked.

  If Mom and Dad only knew how much consternation customary had caused him, they’d rethink those words. But none of that matter now. He was the last McLemore son they’d have on their hands. Hopefully, he’d slowed down the rumor mill so that when Matt’s sons grew up—and any other future McLemore sons came about—they wouldn’t have too much of reputation to live up to or battle to dispel.

  His father and mother were seated in the front of the SUV. He took the file, spreading out the survey in his hands as they drove over the blacktop that gave way to a narrow gravel road.

  At the top of a low-lying hill, his father slowed down. “Right here,” Wade said. “This marks your eastern property line.”

  Rory lowered the window and craned his neck. Mile marker 117 was to his right. Up ahead, the road rose toward the pond, and then a ridge over the northwestern part of Evermore.

&
nbsp; “This is farther from the front gate, but there’s a little used service road and entrance. We’ll replace that gate and install an electronic one,” his father said.

  They continued driving, and the temperature changed as they drove upward. On both sides of the roadway, more and more trees grew, creating a cool canopy. They passed by the dense pine stand, where just beyond the pond lay in wait. Recently, a small cabin, really more like a changing place, had been built by Matt and Stephen as a place to bring their children. Carolina had just delivered another son, and the McLemore clan was growing in leaps and bounds. It was funny, seeing this side of men who’d been reckless fools change so abruptly when they’d married, and now as fathers. When it came to his older brothers and how they treated wives and children, for all their past footloose ways, they’d buckled down and took few chances.

  As Rory saw it, he preferred to sidestep the jackass phase of thinking with his dick. Unless it had to do with Sommer. He clamped his lips tight, thinking about her last night. Moaning and moving under him. He forced his attention back to the survey, and where to build a home.

  “The land rises. I was thinking about the clearing over there.” He leaned forward and pointed in between the front seats toward a spot off in the distance. “See it? Right between those two trees. The trailer could set off a ways while I’m building.”

  “Oh yes, indeed. That would be a lovely spot for a home,” Sarah agreed. “What do you think, Wade?”

  His father cut across the open fields, and the SUV jostled a second or two until they were parked at the place he’d indicated. “Let’s get out and take a look,” Wade said, squeezing Sarah’s fingers.

  After walking over to the clearing, it was definitely a possibility. He wanted Sommer’s opinion. He took out his cell phone and snapped a few photographs, then returned to the back of the SUV and removed the wooden property stakes and a hammer. Together he and his father marked out an area. If this proved to be the spot, he’d have the surveyor draft the necessary paperwork and get electrical, water, and gas lines set up. He glanced back at the road and scanned the horizon until his eyes settled on the telephone pole and the power lines. Not awfully far away, considering what he’d seen his brothers wrangle up for his cousin a few months back.