Renegade: A Taggart Brothers Novel (19 page)

“Your muse?” she echoed, sure that he was teasing her.

But he continued to eye her with something akin to wonder.

“Mmm. My muse.” He leaned forward to whisper close to her ear. “Maybe next time, I’ll have to consider doing nudes.”

Bronte felt the fiery heat surge into her own cheeks. “Don’t you dare.”

“Oh, I dare,” he murmured.

Then he kissed her once again.

E
LAM
was unaccountably antsy as he waited in the parking lot of Vern’s. Not for the first time, he checked his hair, his button-down shirt, and the crease he’d ironed into his jeans.

Hell.
If P.D. didn’t hurry up, he’d find something else to polish. And he’d already put a sheen on his going-to-town boots and his belt buckle.

He knew that it was nervousness that had kicked up his grooming habits a notch, but he wanted everything to be perfect. He remembered his late wife, Annabel, saying once that the most important part about a proposal was the story the woman would retell for the rest of her life. Elam was hoping he’d come up with enough romantic pomp and circumstance to do P.D. proud.

Because he was tired of waiting. Last year, during the Wild West Games, he and P.D. had assumed the roles of “pioneer bride and groom.” Elam wanted to make that role a reality.

The back door to the restaurant finally opened and P.D. hurried out. As she climbed into the truck and slid over to
sit next to Elam, she breathlessly said, “Hurry and get out of here. With the lunch shift as crazy as it’s been, I don’t want anyone to stop me.”

Elam didn’t need to be told twice. He set the gearshift into drive and punched the accelerator. Then, once they were on the road, he draped his arm over her shoulder.

“Where are we going?” P.D. asked, her hand curving around his thigh.

“Someplace special.”

Her brows rose with patent curiosity. “I don’t know if I’ve got a whole lot of time to go to Logan—”

“We aren’t going to Logan,” Elam interrupted with a smile.

P.D. was clearly mystified. Here in Bliss, dining options were limited. Other than a McDonald’s near the freeway, the lunch counter at the Corner, the Cake Dump, and Vern’s there weren’t any other options.

Elam smiled down at her, his heart doing a crazy bossa nova in his chest. “Trust me.”

Her eyes grew warm at that and she melted against him again. “I always trust you.”

Her statement had the power to turn his insides to jelly, and Elam wondered if she knew how much it meant to him that she’d given him that trust. She’d had a crappy childhood—one that had stripped her of the belief that relationships could last for a lifetime. He was hoping that he’d managed to change her mind.

Slowing down, Elam turned from the old highway onto a gravel service road that dissected fields planted with winter wheat. Since the ground was leased by Taggart Enterprises, P.D. didn’t react until she saw that the gate at the end of the lane—one clearly marked with a
NO TRESPASSING
sign—was open.

“We’re going to Henry Grover’s cabin?” she breathed.

“Mmm hmm.”

He felt the way she leaned forward in anticipation. It had been over a year since they’d been here last. The secluded valley with its towering willow trees, quaint cabin, and
sheltered pond had been one of the stops during the Wild West Games. When they’d found themselves with a few hours of unexpected privacy, it had been the first place where he and P.D. had made love.

There was no hiding the joy on P.D.’s features as they followed the lane down, down, into a hidden dell. Elam followed the same track they’d once taken in a buggy, circling behind the cabin, around the pond, and coming to a stop near a trough that was kept full by a dribble of chilly artesian water.

“Oh,” P.D. breathed when she caught sight of the thick grass under the willows. Elam had been here earlier to spread a blanket under the trees and leave a picnic basket in the center. On top of the basket was a huge bouquet of pink roses, sweet peas, and daisies.

“Helen helped me come up with the menu, so it ought to be good.”

P.D. was eyeing him with something akin to wonder. He could tell she was searching her brain, trying to come up with a logical reason for the romantic gesture.

Birthday?

No.

Anniversary?

No.

He opened his door and slid out, reaching for her hand. “Come on.”

Elam had it all planned. They would have a leisurely lunch, laugh, talk, maybe make love. Afterward, he would hand her the bouquet, drop to his knees, and ask her to marry him. Only then would he draw her attention to the ring that had been tied into the ribbon wrapped around the stems and looped into a bow.

But as they neared the blanket, Elam’s heart began to pound so hard, he wondered if P.D. could hear it. His mouth grew dry as a desert—and, good hell almighty, his knees began to shake.

When he hesitated at the edge of the blanket, P.D. looked at him curiously.

“What’s wrong?”

Damn. He must look like a rabbit about to bolt.

As he tried to summon up enough spit to talk, Elam realized that there was no way that he could get through the meal without looking and acting as skittish as an unbroken colt. So he reached for the bouquet, then turned to P.D., taking one of her hands.

“I . . . uh . . .”

Hell.

He looked at P.D., and as quickly as his nerves had appeared, they seeped away. This was the woman he loved, the woman with whom he wanted to spend the rest of his life. And he knew she loved him, too. Every time she looked at him, touched him, talked to him, she conveyed her feelings in a hundred different ways.

Slowly, he sank to his knees in front of her.

“Prairie Dawn Raines, I know I’m supposed to come up with some kind of flowery speech, but . . .” He squeezed her hand, searching her features and absorbing her look of confusion. “But suddenly, I can’t remember anything I planned to say except . . . I love you, body and soul. I love you more today than I did yesterday, and tomorrow I’ll love you even more than today. It’s time to ask you . . . Will you marry me?”

He’d prepared himself for her reaction. He was sure that she would hesitate, that she would be pummeled with indecision. She might even ask if he was sure or tell him she wasn’t quite ready.

What he hadn’t expected was that she would burst into tears.

Immediately he stood, hauling her into his arms, his stomach sinking as he wondered if he’d rushed her. But then, she began peppering him with kisses, whispering, “Yes . . . yes . . .
yes!”

He laughed—in joy and relief—crushing her against him. “I thought for a minute you were going to tell me no.”

She drew back long enough to regard him quizzically. “Why would you ever think that?”

Then she was kissing him again and the air was redolent
with the bouquet that was being crushed between them. Wrestling the blooms free, Elam tossed them to the ground, next to the forgotten picnic basket. There would be time for all that later—the food, the flowers, and his great-grandmother’s heirloom ring, which he’d retrieved from the safe in the Big House.

Right now, he planned to make love to his fiancée, his wife-to-be, in the same spot where their relationship had once begun.

*   *   *

WHEN
Bodey’s pickup appeared, Jace and Bronte were sitting casually on the porch. But appearances could be deceiving, Bronte thought with an inner
yippie-ki-yay.
The two of them had never left the property long enough for lunch. Instead, they’d made love in the shower, then his bed, and then—
great googly-moogly
—on the kitchen table. She was beginning to realize her ex-husband had sported a very limited repertoire where lovemaking was concerned, because Bronte was keen to experiment—and Jace was more than willing to comply.

So when the truck pulled to a stop by the back porch, Jace and Bronte were sitting a good distance apart. But Bronte was pretty sure that Jace’s body must be thrumming with the same sensual exhaustion that made her loathe to move.

“Did you have fun?” Bronte asked as the kids clambered out of Bodey’s stretch cab.

She was surprised when Kari volunteered a quick, “Yeah, they have pretty good burgers. I saw Brinnley there.”

Brinnley Atencio was one of Kari’s new friends from school. Bronte had met her several times and she was secretly pleased that Kari had bonded with the down-to-earth teen.

“She wants to know if I can meet her and some other friends at the bowling alley. Her mom will stay with us, then bring us home. Since it’s a school night, Mrs. Atencio said she’d have us back by nine.”

Bronte didn’t know which part of Kari’s statement surprised her most—that Kari actually wanted to go to a
bowling alley,
that she had volunteered the fact that a parent would be present, or that said parent was willing to provide the transportation
and
get them all home at a reasonable hour. But then, Bronte supposed that such arrangements were probably the norm in Bliss. With school friends scattered for miles throughout the county, after-school activities necessitated some planning.

Before she answered, Bronte made a mental note to offer her driving services for future activities. “I think that sounds like fun.”

“Can I text her back?”

“Sure.”

As Kari’s thumbs began forming her reply, Jace leaned over to comment lowly, “You got her a phone?”

Bronte smiled. “Yup. I realized that it’s important to have access to a friend, especially when things are new and scary.”

Jace must have caught the double meaning behind her words—that Bronte considered him her own valuable friend as well—because he reached over to stroke the back of her hand with his finger.

“I think that’s a wise decision. But I’ll miss her willingness to come here for the Wi-Fi.”

Bronte grinned. “Don’t worry. She’ll probably be hitting you up for a chance to use your horses so she and her friends can go riding.”

Jace smiled. “I’d like that. You’re welcome to drop by anytime,” he said to Kari. “Bring your friends. If there’s one thing we have in abundance, it’s horses.”

Kari glanced up from texting to offer him a startled smile. “Thanks, Jace.”

“You can come riding, too, Lily.”

Lily blinked at him, clearly surprised that she’d been included in the invitation. But Barry brushed over any awkwardness by grabbing the little girl’s hand.

“Come inside with me, Emily, and I’ll show you my room.” He turned to include Kari. “If you wanna come upstairs with us, there’s a really good view of the pasture with all the baby horses. You could put it on your Facebook.”

Surprisingly, when Barry and Lily hurried to the door, Kari followed.

“Ten minutes,” Bronte called after them. “We don’t want to keep Mrs. Atencio waiting!”

Bronte wasn’t sure if the girls heard her or not. The door slammed and they disappeared inside.

“Are you still worried about Lily?” Jace asked, taking Bronte’s hand.

Bronte grimaced. “She’s had some good days, thank goodness. But I’ve made an appointment with a pediatrician next week, and I’m hoping she can arrange a counselor.” She sighed. “I finally came to the conclusion that Lily needs an expert’s help. Luckily, my health insurance will be in effect by then. Honestly, I don’t know what I would have done if Barry hadn’t come by after school every day. I think she’s been mulling things over with him, but I’m still clueless about what’s going on in her head. When I talk to her, she just changes the subject.”

Jace squeezed her hand. “She’s lucky to have such a loving mom.”

Jace’s comment caused her throat to tighten with emotion. Uncaring of the fact that her children could emerge, Bronte leaned forward to kiss him. When their lips touched, a familiar warmth flooded into her extremities.

“Are you still coming to dinner tomorrow?” she asked when they parted.

He smiled. “Absolutely.”

“Burgers, steaks, or roast beef? Your brother said he left some meat in our freezer.”

“The kids would probably rather have burgers.”

She nodded. “I’ll pick up some buns, make a couple of salads, and slice up some potatoes for french fries.”

“They’ll love that.”

He remained close, so close that she was able to brush her thumb over his lips.

“I might not be able to stop by earlier in the afternoon. I’ve got some things to get done for Annie’s open house.”

“Do you need any help?”

Did she need any help?
That wasn’t the response that she would have received from Phillip. For the first time, Bronte realized how comforting it was to have someone willing to share some of her burdens.

“If I do, I’ll let you know.”

*   *   *

JACE
wasn’t the sort to spend a whole lot of time in front of the mirror. Most days, if his clothes were clean and he could find his hat, he didn’t bother with much more. But the next night, he couldn’t help checking and rechecking. He’d shaved carefully, splashed on cologne, donned his churchgoing Justin boots and a crisp white button-down shirt—he’d even ironed his jeans, for hell’s sake. Yet, as he slid into a jacket, he found himself looking at his reflection again.

Tugging the sleeves over his cuffs, Jace realized that his nerves were as jangly as if he were about to go on a first date. He’d probably spent more time primping tonight than he had the whole rest of the year.

But even as he grimaced at his efforts, he knew the preparations had been necessary. It might not be his first meeting with Bronte, but he did want to make the right impression on her girls. The few stolen meetings they’d been able to have weren’t nearly enough. Jace wanted the opportunity to court her openly.