His Rebel Heart

by Amber Leigh Williams

  Edith’s eyes snapped to her husband, latching on hard. “I told you not to let Kyle ride bareback, didn’t I? I said it was only a matter of time before he fell off and busted his arm up, just like Adrian did when she was his age. It’s stupid to let someone so young ride out of the saddle, especially on a horse as big as that.”

  “Edith,” Van said sternly. “He’s fine.”

  Edith’s lips firmed, her face grew stony. “Get inside. It’s time for dinner and we have a guest.” When James rose, helping Kyle up, that hard gaze seized on him. “Not you. You’ll understand if I don’t want you coming inside, James.”

  Before James could reply, Van spoke up again. “I’ve already invited him.”

  Edith scowled. “I’ve already set the table. Five plates.”

  “We have other plates and other chairs,” Van said. “You’ll manage.”

  “Van—”

  “Who else is coming to dinner?” Kyle’s young voice pealed through the tense exchange like a hopeful bell.

  Edith sent one last, seething glare at Van before answering. “Byron Strong.”

  Adrian looked up. “Byron? Why?”

  James saw the alarm coating her face. Edith only raised a brow. “He finally got around to doing the books for the nursery. He’s been working for the better part of the afternoon.”

  “On a Saturday?” Adrian asked, suspicious.

  “I invited him to dinner,” Edith told her. “I expect you to be pleasant.”

  Kyle looked pleased. “Byron’s nice.”

  “Yes,” Edith said, her eyes passing over James once more. “He’s a very nice, respectable man. Wash up, all of you, and come in.” Her eyes narrowed on James’s hands. “You won’t track anything in if you know what’s good for you.”

  As Edith walked back to the farmhouse, James noted Adrian’s look of exasperation. “You know Byron?” he asked casually.

  She avoided his gaze. As Kyle walked ahead to help Van stable the horses, she explained, “Yeah, and if my mother had her way, we’d be married with five kids.”

  “Interesting,” James replied and followed her to the house. It was going to be an interesting dinner, indeed.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “WOULD YOU LIKE another helping of mashed potatoes, Byron?”

  Byron lifted a hand when Edith offered him the serving bowl with a smile. “That’s all right, Mrs. Carlton. I feel as full as a tick as it is. That was a fine meal.”

  Edith all but simpered at him over the sentiment. Adrian scowled. Speaking of ticks, her mother was making a show of her attachment to Byron. “It’s nothing you don’t deserve, working the way you have. It’s no easy labor making sense of Van’s numbers.”

  “It’s no trouble,” Byron said, glancing at Adrian who’d “coincidentally” been seated next to him. “How’s business for you?”

  “It’s steady,” she told him, pushing her own mashed potatoes around her plate, avoiding her mother’s expectant stare. “Spring’s always a welcome comfort for anybody in the flower industry.”

  “Byron, do you play the guitar?” Kyle asked from Adrian’s other side.

  “Sure. I play a little. Not very well....”

  Edith laughed, reaching to pat his hand. “Oh, I’m sure you’re being modest, as usual.”

  Adrian looked across the table in time to see James eye Edith as though she’d sprouted horns. When James looked at Adrian, brows raised, she rolled her eyes and looked down at her plate again.

  “Granddaddy and I are gonna play on the back porch,” Kyle told Byron. “And James brought a harmonica. You can play, too, Byron.”

  “Sure,” Byron said. “But only if your mother plays the tambourine.”

  Adrian sent Byron an arched look. When he smirked at her, she smiled back. In truth, she did like Byron. They had dated casually, but whether it was the pressure from her mother or the fact that they weren’t interested in each other romantically, the relationship had gone no further than friendship, to Edith’s deep and noisy disappointment.

  James cleared his throat. “I think I’ll be skipping tonight’s performance, kid. My stomach’s not settling well.”

  Kyle’s protest was cut off by Edith. “Hmm. I guess a fine, home-cooked meal doesn’t agree with everyone.” Then she lifted her teacup to her mouth to hide a satisfied smile.

  “Neither does crow,” James muttered.

  “Excuse me?” Edith snapped, blinking from him to Adrian as the latter coughed.

  “Nothing,” Adrian said, and frowned at James when he lifted an innocent shoulder, shoveling the last of his pot roast into his mouth.

  Byron looked at Adrian again. “So you and James used to know each other, huh?”

  Before Adrian could offer a careful reply, Kyle said, “He’s my dad!”

  Byron’s eyes widened as he looked from Kyle to James and back to Adrian. “Well, how ’bout that?”

  “There are no other words for it,” Van said with a soft chuckle.

  “Oh, James is just one of Adrian’s peccadillos,” Edith told him. “What was that other boy’s name before James? He had grand designs to be the world’s next punk rock sensation, if I recall.”

  Adrian eyed her mother in warning. “Let it go, Mom.”

  “And then there was the one before that. The one your daddy caught you with in the back of his Chevy. Van had every right to shoot the boy, but he didn’t.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you, my dear,” Van said evenly, taking another swig of his beer.

  “And then, of course, there was that disaster with Radley Kennard.”

  “Mom,” Adrian said.

  “What?” Edith asked.

  “I’m sure this is what Byron wants to hear over dinner,” Adrian said in an undertone. “Just how big a bullet he’s dodged by not satisfying your wishes and marrying me on the spot.”

  “Ah...” Byron began, looking appropriately awkward.

  Edith narrowed her eyes on Adrian. “Perhaps you’re right.”

  “Edith,” Van said. “Change the subject.”

  “Mind your own business,” she replied. “I’m starting to realize Adrian might actually be right, for a change.”

  “Well, blow me down,” Adrian muttered.

  “Don’t you sass me, young lady! I am your mother. How dare you speak to me in that tone? Our guest deserves better.”

  “Then why did you start it?” Adrian demanded.

  “You started it with your pattern of bad decisions,” Edith snapped back.

  “Jesus, Edith. Would you do us all a favor and close your mouth for two seconds?”

  Edith’s mouth fell and every face turned in shock to James as he rose from his chair and towered over the table, throwing his napkin down on his plate. “It’s no wonder I’ve got no appetite. You spew enough poison to make anybody within spitting distance hack and vomit.”

  She gasped, horrified. “I knew you’d be trouble tonight. I told Van he should know better than to include you. Are you satisfied?” she hissed at her husband.

  James barked a laugh. “You’ve been giving everyone in your family enough gastrointestinal problems to last a lifetime. Your problems started way before me.”

  Van placed his napkin on the table and motioned for Kyle as he stood, scooting his chair back. “Come on, boy. Time to tune up those guitars.”

  Kyle hesitated a moment before rising from his chair. No one said a word as he rounded the table and took his grandfather’s waiting hand before being led out of earshot. James’s throat moved on a swallow as he watched Kyle go. Then he looked at Adrian, remorse clouding his eyes. “I shouldn’t have said anything in front of him. I’m sorry. But somebody at this table’s got to stand up for you.”

  “James—” Adrian began but was smo
othly interrupted as James turned back to Edith.

  “If you want to blame anybody for the way Adrian’s life has turned out, don’t blame her,” James told her. “Blame me. Not that there’s reason to blame anyone because she’s turned out fine. She’s doing you proud and you can’t even see it.”

  “I’ve about had enough of this,” Edith said quietly, eyes hot on his. She hadn’t risen from her chair but was locked in place like a spring on the verge of release.

  “If Adrian’s made mistakes, it’s because she’s lived her life,” James told her. “Hell, we’ve all lived our lives. Now, I’m sorry for whatever’s happened in your life to make you so terminally disappointed with everything and everyone around you. We’re all sorry. But you need to let it go. More, you need to let Adrian live her life. Look at her, Edith. She’s doing fine, just fine.”

  Here he stopped, out of steam and breath. His eyes strayed to Adrian. She stared at him, owl-eyed, unable to look away as silence reigned over the table. Finally, Byron lifted his glass and muttered a quiet “Hear, hear” before drinking.

  Edith seethed, her mouth working silently. A couple minutes passed before she finally asked, “You remember your way out?”

  “Vividly,” James said. Dipping his head in a mocking bow to her, he turned to leave. “See you around, Byron.”

  “You owe me a poker night, Bracken,” Byron called to James’s retreating back.

  * * *

  ADRIAN HEARD THE front door slam moments later. It took only a few seconds for her to push her chair back and rise, muttering an “Excuse me” to Byron. She didn’t look at Edith as she left the same way James had.

  She caught him in the driveway, stalking toward the tree line where his sportster waited in the shade. “James!”

  He glanced over his shoulder and stopped.

  She huffed out a breath, walking to him at a fast clip. “Let’s get one thing straight—”

  He jerked a nod, eyes still heated from the confrontation. “Okay. Let’s.”

  “I don’t nor have I ever needed you to fight my battles for me,” she began.

  “Is that right?” he challenged. “Then why is this still going on? Edith walks all over you. Why do you let her? Why do you let her make you into something small?”

  “It’s none of your business,” she dismissed his words. “You weren’t even supposed to be here tonight.”

  “That doesn’t change the fact that she’s still at it,” James said, gesturing toward the farmhouse behind her. “And don’t tell me it’s because of your choices. She did this when you were seventeen. I saw it for myself, long before you made half of your peccadillos.”

  She flinched at the word.

  “You’re better than this, Adrian.”

  The words struck her off guard. Her mouth dropped. “What?”

  “You let her flay you alive in front of your family, your friends. You should have learned to fight back a long time ago—”

  “There’s no point in fighting back!” she shouted.

  “What I know is that if you thought more of yourself than she did, you wouldn’t stand for it and you, Adrian Carlton, are stronger than that. I know you are.”

  She stared at him, at the truth on his face.

  He nodded, knowing he had her there. “You’ve been through hell and you’ve fought—like a champ. You do what you love for a living. You’re excellent at it and you’ve found success. And you are the best mother I’ve ever known. You deserve better than to be treated this way. And the fact that you’re just now realizing it is a real damn shame.”

  He took a step back, turned and kept going. She didn’t stop him.

  It was some time before she heard footsteps crunching in the gravel behind her. Her body tensed. It wasn’t until Byron eased up next to her and she realized that it was him that she relaxed again.

  “Everything okay?” he asked.

  She gave a tight nod. “Fine.” She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry for the scene.”

  Byron gave a rueful smile. “What’re you talking about? I got to see Edith barbecued for once. That’s dinner and a show.”

  Adrian released a laugh on a watery wave. It halted as soon as it started, though, and Byron sighed, tugging her toward him. “Come ’ere.”

  She didn’t want the comfort, mostly because she knew it would bring her closer to crumbling. But she stood for a moment in his arms, her face buried.

  “Take a minute,” he murmured, resting his chin on her head. “Just a minute.”

  Adrian breathed in slowly—then out—and she felt a bit steadier for it.

  Then Byron added softly, “Loving someone isn’t easy.”

  Her teeth gnashed together. “I don’t love him.”

  “I was talking about your mother.”

  She frowned. “I know,” she replied. The words pitched off-kilter.

  Adrian could all but feel the doubt pouring off Byron as he replied. “All right.” He pulled away. “Better now?”

  “Yes,” she admitted. Still, she took a couple of more breaths. “Thank you. I...I guess I needed the shoulder.”

  “Anytime.” He reached out and touched her fondly on the chin. “Come on back to the house. You can watch my bad guitar playing and feel better about yourself.”

  She nodded. When he crooked his arm toward her, she lifted her hand to the bend of his elbow and let him lead her back into the lion’s den.

  * * *

  “I’M THINKING ABOUT taking a personal day Friday. That all right with you, boss?”

  James rolled his shoulders irritably. “Go ahead,” he grunted, as he finished changing the minivan’s back left tire.

  “You wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning or what?” Dusty asked.

  Yeah, James had woken up on the wrong side of the bed. His bed, as a matter of fact. Alone. “Don’t worry about it,” James said as he tightened the lug nuts, gritting his teeth when the last didn’t cooperate.

  “Does this have anything to do with Adrian Carlton?” Dusty asked evenly.

  James chose not to answer that. Taking the tire iron with him, he went to the controls of the hydraulic lift to lower the minivan to the ground.

  Dusty didn’t take the hint. Instead, as the lift hummed, he followed James to the computer and said, “’Cause, you know, you’re better off without that mess.”

  James whirled on him. “What do you know?”

  “I’ve seen enough to know that Adrian Carlton and her folks are better off avoided.”

  “Why don’t you enlighten me?” James asked, weighing him. “What’s so bad about the Carltons?”

  “I told you, dude, they ran you out of town. They put Radley in a bad place.”

  “Screw Kennard,” James snapped. “The guy’s a ticking time bomb.”

  “Ah, come on. Tell me you haven’t bought into Adrian’s victimized crap.”

  Anger knifed through James. His face heated and he stepped toward Dusty, fists clenched, before realizing what he’d intended to do—beat the living snot out of his friend.

  Dusty paled, and for a split second looked worried. The savage look on James’s face must’ve faded because Dusty lowered his hands and eyed him in a new light. “You’re sleeping with her, aren’t you?” he asked.

  James scrubbed a hand over his face. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Why do you do it to yourself, man? Eight years ago, the Carltons worked you over like a pro. Now you’re going after their daughter?”

  “Maybe they were right about me,” James said as he placed the tire iron on the shelf and began cleaning the greasy tools on the worktable. “I deserved whatever the Carltons dished out. Why do you think I left?”

  “Nah, man,” Dusty said. “They were uptight. Edith, she’
s as phony as they come. Going around town like a good Christian lady, trying to make everybody believe her family’s perfect. And Van? The guy can barely put two and two together. He’s as dumb as a brick.”

  James frowned deeply. “I’m going to ask you one more time to drop it.”

  Dusty scoffed. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were in love with her.” When James didn’t contradict him, he groaned. “Ah, hell. You’re gonna wind up in the same state as Kennard.”

  “Kennard should be in jail.”

  “Ah,” Dusty grimaced. “She’s got you by the balls.”

  “He beat the living hell out of her!” James all but shouted. “Can you tell me you never saw bruises on her while they were together? Bro code must go a long way for you to overlook spousal abuse.”

  “Maybe she pushed him to it. You gotta admit she’s got a mouth on her.”

  James jerked his thumb toward the door. “That’s it. Take off. You’re done.”

  Dusty gaped. “You’re firing me? After everything we’ve been through?”

  “You’re damn right I am.”

  “You’re an idiot,” Dusty retorted. “I’m just looking out for you. You wanna know how I know the Carltons are bad news?”

  “I said take off, Dusty,” James warned, at the end of his rope. “Now!”

  “They accused you of attacking Van when we both know you didn’t do it.”

  It took a moment to sink in. James narrowed his eyes. “How do you know it wasn’t me? You weren’t there that night.” When Dusty only stared at him, clarity came with a numbing dose of shock. “Or were you?”

  “Maybe I was,” Dusty admitted, challenge lighting a match in his eyes. “What’re you gonna do about it? Run and tell your new girlfriend?”

  “You attacked Van Carlton eight years ago?” James asked, incredulity rising.

  “I did it for you, back when I thought we were friends,” Dusty told him. “I thought if the old man was incapacitated, they’d forget about you and the community service and you’d have the Carltons off your back for good. But it backfired. And who was the first person those uppity do-gooders turned around and blamed?”