Her Rebel Heart

by Jamie Farrell

  “Wasn’t any crashing, Captain Hot Shot. You put that plane down just like we were on a runway.”

  “You’ve never seen a plane land on a runway.”

  She was almost to her Jeep down the street from Pony’s place, still speed-walking as though the devil were on her tail. “True enough, but if we crashed, that plane would’ve been in pieces.”

  “Kaci—”

  “Go back to your friends. Have a good time. You and me? We need a little breathing room. My head’s not on straight, and you just make it more muddled.”

  He could relate.

  “I said I’ll call you,” she said. “You ever known me not to follow through with a threat?”

  She drove him crazy and she brought out the worst in him, but the woman knew how to make him laugh. “Don’t wait too long,” he said. “I might forget who you are.”

  “Don’t you wish.”

  Of everything in his life he might ever wish he could forget, Kaci Boudreaux was not on that list.

  She hugged the edges of her Jeep while she marched to the driver’s door. “I won’t hold it against you if you don’t take my call,” she added.

  Damn impossible woman.

  He stalked around the Jeep, cradled her head, and covered her lips with his.

  To make her quit talking, he told himself.

  To prove to her that he wasn’t a total asshole, he told himself.

  To kiss a hot chick because he was a red-blooded male who liked sexy blondes, he told himself.

  The truth, though, might be that he needed to know she was okay.

  That she wasn’t still mad at him for making her go up in that airplane today.

  That she still liked him enough to want to kiss him back.

  Because if she kissed him back, maybe they’d go farther.

  Into her backseat. They could ditch their clothes. Explore each other’s bodies. He could taste her skin, hold her breasts, bury himself in the deepest parts of her.

  Lose himself.

  Just be.

  She pressed her hands firmly against his chest, pushing him away.

  He stepped back, his shaft painfully trapped by the denim of his pants. “I didn’t mean it,” he said. “You’re not a baby, Kaci. You’re strong and unstoppable.”

  “Go have your fun with the boys. I can’t do this tonight. But I’ll call you.” She hoisted herself into her Jeep.

  He leaned in the open window. “Soon?”

  She bit her lip again. “I got some work I need to do on me.” She kissed her first three fingers, pressed them to his lips, and revved the engine. “Go on. Be a good boy and go get in trouble with your friends.”

  He didn’t want to, but he stepped back and let her go.

  And when her taillights disappeared around the corner, despite knowing he was heading back into the bar with his buddies, he felt oddly alone without Kaci there with him.

  She might be a menace, but somehow, she’d become his menace.

  * * *

  Kaci collapsed onto her bed and pulled Miss Higgs in for a cuddle. “I think I’m in trouble, kitty,” she whispered. She could still taste Lance on her lips and feel the heat of his touch on her scalp. “He shouldn’t kiss me like that.”

  Miss Higgs kneaded her arm and heaved out a rusty purr.

  “I know, I know.” She kissed her cat’s head. “I’ll always have you.”

  Miss Higgs grunted.

  “And I’m not going to Germany either. That bird? That bird was a sign. God doesn’t want me in airplanes.”

  No answer from the cat.

  Obviously, she agreed.

  Kaci had a sneaky suspicion a certain sexy flyboy would give her hell when he found out she was canceling her trip to Germany, but she couldn’t think about that.

  Not tonight.

  She lay there stroking the cat until her purrs faded. Miss Higgs’s fragile chest rose and fell slowly, and a kitty snore occasionally slipped out.

  But Kaci couldn’t sleep.

  She’d messed up more than just her plans for Germany.

  She’d let herself believe she could keep things with Lance on a platonic level. That they could be reluctant friends with benefits.

  But he was becoming so much more.

  Ron had never called her out on anything. And she’d never trusted him enough to confess her deepest fears, her biggest secrets to him. She’d never given him a chance to understand her or a chance to help her.

  She didn’t like needing help.

  But she’d never felt as alone as she felt tonight either.

  Not when she lived at home with Momma, who never knew quite what to do with her.

  Not when she was battling to prove herself after switching majors during her undergrad years, nor when she was battling for credit for her work through her graduate years.

  Even when Ron had told her she could either have kids now or kiss him goodbye forever, she hadn’t been lonely.

  But tonight, she wished Lance were here.

  Well, not Lance. Maybe someone just like him who would listen to her talk about what had happened between them today. Who wouldn’t judge her for how terrified she’d been when she’d realized the propeller on the plane was sputtering. Who would laugh with her over her unbelievable good luck in actually hitting him in the back with a mud ball. Who would tell her that he forgave her for pitching a hissy fit and calling him names and being a general pain in the ass.

  Okay, yes.

  She wanted Lance here.

  She wasn’t sure he wanted much more than to just get her naked a few more times and then be done with her.

  But he never made her feel as though he wanted her only for sex.

  He made her feel funny. Unique. Worthy.

  Human. Fallible but forgivable.

  Lovable.

  But he’d made one thing very clear today: First and foremost, he was a military man, committed to Uncle Sam.

  “He’s going to break my heart, Miss Higgs.”

  The cat slumbered on. Kaci untangled herself to flip the light off, then crawled under the covers and wrapped her body around her sleeping cat.

  Lance was probably still out with his friends. Having a good time with a group of guys who hated her. And why shouldn’t they?

  Look what she’d done to their pig. And their keg. And she’d put a stain of cheating accusations on their pumpkin-chucking trophy. Even if she’d been trying to protect her girls, she’d smeared their good names.

  But she’d fix it.

  She’d make everything right.

  And then, maybe, she’d be worthy of having a friend like Lance for real.

  Or maybe, just maybe, she’d be worthy of something more.

  Chapter 16

  Lance was ready to crawl up the walls.

  It had been a week, and he hadn’t heard from Kaci.

  He deployed in just over two weeks.

  She’d probably written him off. And he shouldn’t care. But the woman who had taken him out to show off her potato gun wasn’t the same woman who had bought Pony a new keg.

  And the difference was that Lance had almost crashed a plane he’d promised her was safe.

  She’d asked for space. He could give her space.

  But he needed to know she was okay.

  Sunday morning, he hit the pavement in his neighborhood for a long run in the crisp November morning. And while he put the miles behind him, he made up his mind.

  He’d given her plenty of space. If she never wanted to see him again after today, he’d accept that. Probably he should be grateful. But first, he’d go make sure she was doing okay.

  So he could deploy with a clear conscience.

  Not have anything back home distracting him.

  He turned the last corner of his run, took in the sight of a perky, obnoxious blonde sipping out of a paper coffee cup on his stoop, and his heart skipped a beat.

  She was in her college football best—jeans, a giant Ole Miss sweatshirt swallowing her chest, a
nd Converse sneakers that had danglies on the laces that he suspected would be classic Rebel gear. When she spotted him, she held up a second coffee cup.

  She’d brought him a peace offering.

  “Didn’t think you’d be up so early,” she called when he hit the edge of his property.

  “Disappointed?” he asked.

  “You know it. Nothing I like more than subjecting unsuspecting males to my charming presence before the sun’s up.”

  Felt good to smile at her sassiness. He wiped his forehead and took a seat next to her on the stoop. “How you been?”

  “Just peachy. Beating off men with a stick, turning down promotions at work, making the news for my philanthropic work. The usual.”

  He reached his sweaty arms around her, pulled her to his damp chest, and squeezed her in a hug. “Missed me, huh?”

  “Get off, you stinky mess!” She swatted at him, but there was no vinegar in it.

  Actually—“Did you just sniff me?”

  “That’s disgusting. Why would I do that?”

  “You did. You sniffed me.”

  “Just to make sure that was you and not something that died.”

  But she did it again.

  She leaned into his space, and she sniffed.

  Her pupils dilated, and unless he was way off the mark, she was squeezing her thighs together.

  He grinned to himself and took a swig of the lukewarm coffee she’d brought.

  She still liked him.

  “Your roommate home?” she asked.

  “Probably.”

  She sniffed. “Could’ve gotten a dog instead.”

  “Yeah, but dogs are easy. Getting a Juice Box is good training.”

  “For what?”

  His grin dropped off, and a stray leaf floating over the street was suddenly interesting. “My commander’s hinting he wants me to apply for a position as an instructor pilot in the training squadron.”

  “Here?”

  He nodded and told himself that was neither panic nor hope he heard in her voice.

  They didn’t have the kind of relationship where she cared one way or another what he did.

  “You want to?” she asked.

  “I’d love to get out of the South, but the idea of being an IP isn’t entirely repulsive.” He couldn’t pinpoint when it happened, but sometime in the past week, the thought of staying here, stable for a few years, pushing arrogant bucks like Juice Box and molding them into not just great pilots, but great officers, had become less appalling and more appealing.

  He loved his Herc. If he were being honest, he loved mentoring Juice Box too. Inspiring pilots the way Kaci inspired her students—that was worthwhile.

  And possibly the idea of seeing a little more of Kaci—recreationally, of course, not as anything serious—wasn’t entirely revolting either.

  He still wanted to see the rest of the country and the world, but he wasn’t even thirty yet. He had time. “If I’d been married when my commander suggested being an IP, I would’ve jumped at the opportunity,” he confessed.

  “Old ball and chain would’ve wanted you here more often, huh?”

  “I would’ve wanted to be here.”

  She nudged his shoulder. “Lance Wheeler, you’re a big ol’ softie.”

  “You know that moment when your life falls to shit and you realize all you have left is your career?”

  “Every day, sugar.”

  He took another sip of coffee. Smart man wouldn’t have touched that with a ten-foot pole. “Rough week?”

  “I live with me. Pretty much a guarantee everything’s harder than it should be.”

  He couldn’t help an amused snort. “Might try going easier on yourself.”

  “Or not going so far out of my way to be right all the time,” she grumbled.

  “Or wrong,” he teased.

  She humored him with a half-smile. “Or wrong.”

  “Lot to be said for people who don’t half-ass anything.” The woman made him want to pull her into his arms and just hold her. Take care of her. Let him carry her troubles for her for a while.

  As if she’d let him.

  “You doing okay?” he said instead.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “For bringing coffee?”

  “For being a drama queen last weekend when you took such good care of both of us to help me.”

  She was making that little muscle in his chest do things it wasn’t supposed to do for a woman.

  He wrapped an arm around her and pressed a kiss to her hair. “You’re forgiven.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Just like that.”

  She leaned into him and rested her arm on his thigh. “And I’m sorry I called you a pumpkin-chucking cheater.”

  “Also forgiven. You want to go see my catapult?”

  She shook her head.

  “Who are you, and what have you done with Kaci?”

  “I stuffed her in a duffel bag and threatened not to let her touch my potato gun ever again if she didn’t quit being mean to people who are nice to her.”

  “You’re not mean.”

  “Ain’t nice either.”

  He didn’t want her to be nice. And he had a feeling she wouldn’t have been asked to speak at a conference in Germany if she’d spent the past ten or fifteen years being nice. “Who needs nice? You’re interesting. Colorful. And those girls in your Physics Club would probably call you smart and inspiring and encouraging. And speaking of those girls—you paid them the prize money yourself, didn’t you?”

  She patted his knee. “Didn’t come for a pep talk, but it’s sweet of you anyway. You free on Saturday?”

  She had.

  She’d given her Physics Club kids the equivalent of the prize money from the pumpkin-chucking contest. He’d suspected it since the day the squadron stole her car, but she’d basically just confirmed it by avoiding the question.

  This woman was something else.

  “No plans that I know of,” he said.

  “Good. Meet me at my place at ten. I’m treating you to a date. And don’t go arguing. We both know I’ll win, but you’ll waste a bunch of breath in the meantime.” She paused. “Please.”

  He smothered another grin. “Sure.”

  She leaned back and eyeballed him. “You’re not fixin’ to argue?”

  “Like you said. I’d just be wasting my breath.”

  Plus, a date planned by Kaci?

  No telling what she’d come up with, but he knew one thing. It wouldn’t be boring. Or ordinary.

  * * *

  Kaci was sipping her third latte of the morning after getting back from Lance’s house. Miss Higgs was snuggled in the corner of the couch. Tara came out of her bedroom in yellow pajama pants and a T-shirt proclaiming her one of the few, the proud, the weird.

  She collapsed beside Kaci and smothered a yawn. “You made me a bagel. You didn’t have to do that.”

  “I got a problem.”

  Tara picked up the plate and sniffed the bagel. “You’re pregnant. Don’t worry. I have a plan. We’ll rent a house and raise it together and never tell anyone until he accidentally stumbles across us one day and realizes the baby has his eyes. And that’s when things will get murky, but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

  “Sugar, you’ve been writing again, haven’t you?”

  “One of my redneck fairy-tale guys just found out he has a secret baby, and everything clicked right before I got out of bed for how I need to handle it.” She waved the bagel at Kaci’s stomach. “You’re not pregnant, are you?”

  “Worse. You sure you should be taking accounting classes? Doesn’t seem to fit you.”

  “Desperate times.” Tara gripped her hand. “He didn’t give you an STD, did he?”

  “Not that bad.”

  “Oh, Kaci…you fell in love with him, didn’t you?”

  “It’s not love. More like strong friendship. With more attachment on my end than his.” The coffee rolled thr
ough her stomach like sour milk, and her hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

  From the caffeine?

  Or from seeing Lance again?

  “I thought staying away from him would straighten me out,” Kaci said.

  “You need to stay away from that man permanently.”

  “I promised him a date.”

  “Break it.”

  “My momma would skin my hide and then hang it out to dry like yesterday’s laundry. Boudreaux women do not break dates.”

  Plus, if she broke the date, she wouldn’t see Lance again.

  The way his eyes danced when he was trying not to laugh at her. The way he rolled with all of her punches. The way he smelled after a run.

  Good gravy in heaven, she’d never liked the smell of sweat, but on him, she’d barely held back from jumping in his lap and riding him.

  Which was another thing her momma would’ve skinned her hide for.

  “He’s military. Strike one,” Tara said. “He’s a pilot. Strike two. And he just got out of a three-year relationship with a woman who practically dumped him at the altar. He’s out. If you’re developing feelings for him, seeing him more won’t make them go away. He could’ve killed you in that plane last weekend. You haven’t forgotten that, have you?”

  “We didn’t die, did we?” she whispered, though her heart shuddered and her fingers went temporarily tingly.

  She’d been doing an admirable job of not thinking about getting on a plane to Germany in barely over a month. Canceling her tickets would make her look like a chicken. Coming down with a horrific case of the flu complicated by pneumonia, psoriasis, and an antibiotic-resistant strain of staph two hours before she was supposed to board her plane would be much better. Surely she could fake being medically quarantined for a week. Couldn’t she?

  “Do you know what I put him through while he was trying to help me?” Kaci said. “The man deserves a medal. The least I can do is take him out to dinner.”

  Even Miss Higgs snorted.

  “Your date plan is to take him out to dinner?” Tara said.

  Of course not. “That’s what normal people do on dates, isn’t it?”

  “Normal people, Kaci. Not you.”

  “Hush on up. The point is, I owe him one last show of gratitude. Are you gonna help me figure out how to stay detached, or do I have to do this all on my own?”