Renegade Hearts (The Kinnison Legacy Book 3)

by McIntyre, Amanda

  “Um, I’m not with Sally.” Dalton had cleaned up the table and sat on his bike, waiting on her. “Dalton came by and took me on a motorcycle ride.”

  “Ah, that’s nice, dear. You two must have found a way to get along.”

  “You could say that. It’s been a long week.”

  “And I bet you haven’t told him yet the real reason why you came to the cabin last weekend.”

  “How’d you--”

  “Sweetheart, where do you think Emilee gets her gift of sight?”

  Angelique glanced at Dalton. He’d just laid his heart out to her--how could she tell him and risk destroying that trust? “I don’t know what to say to him.”

  “The truth is always a good place to start.”

  She walked away, putting a little distance between them to make sure she was out of earshot. “I don’t want to end this before it even gets off the ground.” She sighed. “He told me he’s in love.”

  “With you?”

  “Yes. I mean, he didn’t come right out and say those words. It was Liberty who suggested the idea because he wasn’t eating or sleeping…”

  “So now he thinks he’s in love.”

  “That’s about the size of it, yes.”

  “And what about you? Are you in love with him?”

  Angelique considered the thought. “I’ve loved him for as long as I can remember. I’m not sure I ever thought he’d ever have feelings for me.”

  “Maybe you should accept it and see where it takes you?”

  “I’m scared. There it is honestly, Aunt Rebecca.” She’d realized her greatest fear. If she let herself love him, would he understand? Would he accept the secrets she’d kept from everyone, but especially from him? “I don’t want to lose him.”

  “My dear, you have to believe that a love that is meant to be is able to find a way through even the most difficult times. You need to find out how true this love of yours is. Don’t worry about Emilee. We’ll see to her. She’ll probably fall asleep in the car.

  “Thank you, Aunt Rebecca. I may see you anyway at home.”

  “We’ll see,” she answered. “Go on, now. I imagine he’s been patiently waiting.”

  “He has.” They said their goodbyes and she tucked her phone in her purse.

  He slid his glasses on as she walked toward him. He handed her a helmet. “Everything okay?”

  “Oh, sure, they just want to show Emilee the museum, buy her clothes, spoil her rotten.” She climbed up and wrapped her arms around him.

  “That’s kind of what grandparents are supposed to do, right? You should see Aimee’s mom around Gracie June.” He shook his head and chuckled, then looked over his shoulder. “Guess that leaves you alone tonight for supper, huh?”

  “Yeah, I guess it does.”

  “I’d be happy to cook you supper at my place,” he said.

  Angelique considered her aunt’s advice. “I’d like that.” She leaned her chin on his shoulder.

  “And what if I offer desert first?” he said, his mouth lifting in a wicked grin.

  “I guess we’ll know when we get there,” she said, repeating his words. His laugh melded with the roar of the bike as he kicked it to life.

  Chapter Eight

  The sweet scent of her curled against him awoke his senses, causing his body to stir. Dessert had come first. Barely able to make it inside the cabin, they’d left a path of clothing from the front door to the bedroom. He’d been grateful that, when they’d arrived late afternoon, no one seemed to be around. He’d guessed they’d all gone up to see the progress on Rein’s and Liberty’s house up near the lake.

  He let his eyes adjust to the deepening shadows. It was well after sunset, though he hadn’t given much thought to the time. He shifted, drawing her closer, amazed by her silky skin, roused by every soft curve, by how she responded to his touch.

  “You’re insatiable,” she said through sleep-induced huskiness.

  It was true. Just a look from her these days could arouse him.

  She turned in his arms and lay facing him. Her dark eyes shone in the dim light. “What time is it?” she asked, tracing his mouth with her fingertip.

  “Past supper. You hungry?”

  She smiled. “You did promise me food.”

  “You distracted me.” He leaned in to kiss her soft mouth, unable to get enough. “See, there you go again.” He eased her to her back.

  She curled her hand in his hair, offering long, mind-numbing kisses. More than once they’d made love, lazily exploring, teasing, and satisfying each other. With each passing moment, he relinquished a bit more of his heart, his freedom to her. Warm and ready, she accepted him once more, moving slowly, relishing the union. Amid whispered sighs, she held him close, giving as much as she took, driving his need, pushing, challenging. She grabbed the pine rails of the headboard, eyes closed in bliss, lost to the passion incarnate between them. Her lips parted on a silent gasp and he captured her mouth, claiming her even as they surrendered to one another.

  Rolling to his side, he realized that he’d let desire overrule his senses, forgetting protection. He drew her under his arm, part of him ready to welcome a child should one come of their union. Is this what it was to know when you’d found that one person? He covered her hand, resting on his heart. His body still thrummed, but the desire to tell her how he felt, the increasing need to know if she felt the same, made him nervous. Ridiculously fucking nervous. He chuckled at the notion. Every time they were together, he discovered something new about himself. “You keep distracting me, Angel, and we may never eat again.” He placed a kiss on her forehead and took a cleansing breath to steady his runaway heart.

  “Maybe I’ll shower while you go fix us something to eat,” she offered, and patted his chest.

  Damn, he was beginning to unravel, the kind that gets you thinking about curtains and what color to paint the kitchen cabinets.

  “And I’m supposed to be able to concentrate on food with that image in my brain?”

  “You could try thinking of something else.” She braced on her elbow and smiled down at him.

  He probably could, but did he want to? Hell, no. At this moment, all was right in his world. Accepting that he loved this woman, surrendering his heart, his trust to her was the single, most peaceful certainty he’d had in his life. If she needed time to realize how good what they had between them was, he could give her that. But if she changed her mind, he’d planned to make damn sure she knew what she was missing. A splinter of a thought festered in his brain, prompting his next comment. “This has been a great day.”

  “Motorcycles and sex, you can hardly beat that combination.”

  She meant it in a teasing way, but he had this need to let her know that this had become more than sex for him. He touched her face. God, she was more beautiful than the last moment, if that were possible. “I’ve dated lots of women, Angel.”

  “That’s a boost for my ego.” She smiled.

  “Could you…please just let me get through this?” he asked, clamping her lips together with his fingers.

  She rolled her eyes and he replaced his fingers with a kiss.

  “Are you trying to get out of fixing supper again?”

  Judas Priest. As if this wasn’t hard enough. Exasperated by the fact that he’d managed to work up enough intestinal fortitude to say he loved her while she kept batting away his attempts made him question whether this was the best time to bare it all.

  Senseless thinking, given they had little else to hide from each other.

  “Are you afraid to hear what I have to say?”

  Her smile faded and she stood, drawing the sheet around her. She took a couple of steps toward the bathroom and faced him. “I’m not very good with promises, Dalton. Have I enjoyed every moment we’ve shared? With all of my heart. Do I hope there will be more? Of course. What more do you want from me?”

  Dalton stared at her, hearing the very same words he probably had said in one form or another to the co
untless women he’d dated. Some had lasted a day or two, his longest a week. It was a slap in the face to his pride, but the shot to his heart hurt like hell. He wiped his hand over his mouth. Maybe she didn’t feel he was capable of more than this. Good times, a couple of laughs, hot sex, then back to business for good ol’ Dalton—End of the Line’s good-timin’ man.

  Had she not heard a word he’d said? Hadn’t he all but laid it out there that he had real feelings for her?

  “Dalton?”

  He blinked and looked up, realizing she stood in front of him. She reached out and touched his face. Her dark hair spilled over skin he knew was soft as silk.

  “I do care about you. Believe me.”

  He wanted to, but he’d never been in this position. He’d always been the sorry-ass that gave the he cared speech. On top of everything else, guilt of how shallow he must’ve sounded assaulted him. He couldn’t do anything about the past, but by God, he still had his pride. He took her hand, easing it away as he stood. Looking down into those soulful eyes it was hard to realize he’d been so far off base. Sex, he understood. Maybe that was his destiny. The consummate bachelor--no wife, no family, no legacy. It was a kick-in-the-gut reality check. “I’ll go scramble you some eggs, then I best get you back home.”

  Later, scowling at the frying pan, Dalton’s sour mood hadn’t dissipated much. His cell phone rang and he answered it, forgetting to first reel in his frustration. “What.”

  “Dalton?”

  It was Clay Saunders. Dalton had stopped by his cabin once or twice to catch up and knock back a couple of beers this past week. Except for obvious challenges, his college buddy seemed to have things pretty well in check. “Hey, I figured maybe you’d gone up to see Rein’s place with the rest of the family.”

  “Yeah, they asked. But I wasn’t really feeling up to it. I’m just trying to settle in, you know. I have to say, that fire pit addition is damn sweet.”

  “You’re welcome.” Dalton’s mouth crooked in a smile. “I built one behind every cabin. That view of the mountains is amazing.”

  “It’s nice. I’m still getting used to this kind of quiet, though.”

  Dalton nodded. “It takes bit, but you’ll get used to it. What can I do for you?”

  “Yeah, I have a favor to ask.”

  Dalton tuned into the shower still running. “Sure, what’s up?”

  “I wondered what you know about Sally.”

  “Sally Andersen? You met her at the barbecue, right?”

  “Yeah, that’s the thing. I was, well, let’s just say I was pretty much a dick.” He sighed. “It was a bad night. I probably should have just come straight to the cabin. I really wasn’t sure if this was where I needed to be right now in my life, you know?”

  “I hear that.” Dalton sighed. Oregon had recently shot back up to his top ten places to visit. He plated the scrambled eggs, dropped a piece of bacon and a slice of toast beside it. He’d brewed a pot of coffee and had finished his first cup when he caught sight of Angelique walking across his bedroom wrapped in a towel. He nearly forgot he was on the phone. He forced his gaze away. “So what’s the favor?”

  “I’d like to have her number. She was trying to talk to me about some therapy horse program and I shut her down pretty hard. That happens sometimes. PTSD, so they say. But I hate what I do and say. It’s not the real me. I thought maybe I could at least call and apologize.”

  “Sally’s good people, Clay,” he offered as a gentle warning.

  “I get it, really, and I’d understand if you didn’t want to give me her number. But I’m not some lunatic stalker, if you’re concerned for her safety.”

  Dalton scratched his neck. “Not my concern.” He just didn’t want to see Sally hurt.

  “In my defense, I was tired from the trip and was ushered into a whole backyard of total strangers, besides Hank and Rein. Heard you’d gone AWOL. It all just blindsided me and I feel bad it about it. So there you go.”

  “I understand, bro. More than you realize. I’ve been around this bunch for years and I still get hives around those big community gatherings.” Dalton fished an old address book from a drawer slated for miscellaneous things.

  “Dalton, no disrespect, but you don’t get it. I’d give my good arm for a case of hives. At least you know what you’re battling. The dozens of docs I’ve seem all say the same thing—in time it’ll get better. But they can’t tell me what triggers my anxiety.”

  Immediate guilt washed over him. The man had been through hell and back. Dalton didn’t have a clue. “Hey, buddy, I can’t imagine what it must have been like over there, how hard it’s been since you been home. But one thing you can count on around here is no judgment. And truth is, it doesn’t take PTSD to act like a dick. Trust me, this I do know.”

  A low chuckle came across the line. “Thanks, buddy.”

  Dalton read off the number, finishing the conversation as Angelique emerged from the bedroom fresh and fully dressed. “I see you found your clothes. They were kind of”--he gestured with a sweep of his arm--“everywhere.”

  “Thank you. This looks fantastic. Did I smell coffee? It hit me when I came out of the shower--which, by the way, is amazing. It’s like having your own spa, and that showerhead—like standing in a rainforest.”

  He shoved away the image of her naked body under a gentle waterfall, surrounded by a lush green tropical forest. “Here’s your coffee. Cream or sugar?”

  “No, black is fine, thanks.”

  He sat down across from her, wanting to put as much space between them as possible.

  “Everything okay?” she asked, blissfully unaware of how she’d rejected his heart.

  “Yeah, why?” He glanced up, avoiding eye contact, trying to dismiss his feelings as easily as she had.

  She shrugged. “You were on the phone awhile, so I guess I just wondered. Making conversation.”

  It was all he could do not to lie and mention that it was just an old girlfriend passing through town. In the end, the truth was more mature. “Clay wanted Sally’s phone number.”

  “Oh?” That got her attention. “They just met at the barbecue last weekend. He works fast.”

  “Yeah, I don’t think it’s like that. He mentioned that he acted like a di—his behavior wasn’t what he’d have liked it to be. He just wants to apologize.” Dalton dug into his meal.

  “Well, you never know. Clay is a handsome guy. Sally’s beautiful fun, single. Stranger things have happened.”

  This sure as hell wasn’t a conversation he wanted to be having—especially now, especially with her. “So you can see the possibility between them, but not us?”

  She set her fork down. “I can’t do this. Maybe you should take me home.” She dug in her purse and pulled out her phone. “On second thought, I’ll call Sally.”

  He pushed from his chair and snatched the phone from her. “I told you I’d take you home.” He searched her eyes, wanting answers to the many questions buzzing in his brain.

  “I’m sorry that you’re angry,” she said a few moments later as he drove the back road to her uncle’s farm.

  “I’m not angry.” A lie. He kept his eyes on the road, already cursing his decision to see her earlier today. It seemed a lifetime ago, this notion that he was in love, and it had blinded him to the fact that for it to feel good, it needed to be reciprocated.

  The house was dark and the truck was not in the drive. Dalton pulled in and put his truck in gear, but didn’t shut off the ignition. If all she wanted was sex, then they’d had it. The whole thing stung, worse than it had years before. This time there wasn’t another man, no reason other than choice that she'd not be able to return the same feelings he had for her.

  “Do you want to come in? We could sit on the porch, if you like.”

  Perplexed, he shifted in his seat and looked at her. “Now you want to be just friends--or wait, friends with benefits, right? At least this is what I’m reading here.” He glanced away, his frustration growing by th
e second. This was damn sure a far cry from the thought he’d had four hours ago of Rein designing the perfect house. He’d never been so blindsided by a woman—with the possible exception of dear mom. She’d used Jed for what she needed, and then was gone when something better came along. Maybe he should be grateful things hadn’t gotten that far with Angelique. Maybe her rejection was actually a point in his favor.

  “It’s more than that, Dalton. You know it is.” She unbuckled to face him

  “No, I don’t. I know I was being honest with you, Angel. Maybe Liberty was wrong.” He shook his head. This was as good a campaign for bachelorhood as anything. You put your trust in someone, chances are they’re going to stomp on your heart.

  “What Liberty said--”

  “Was wrong,” he slung back. “She doesn’t know shit about me. She doesn’t know you. How could she possibly think that anything would be different? That you’re different from the dozens of other women I’ve known.” The muscle in his jaw ticked as he looked out the window. He wanted answers. He wanted a stiff drink. He wanted her.

  “I do care about you. There’s more to this.”

  “Yeah?” He pinned her with a narrowed gaze. “Tell me, what is it that I’m not getting here, Angel? Is it another guy?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “My drinking? Is that the issue?”

  She folded her arms protectively over her chest and looked away from him. “It concerns me, I won’t deny that, but it has nothing to do with my choices.” She glanced at him, and he could see she was fighting back tears.

  His frustration, the hurt, showed no mercy. “Then what? If it’s my reputation, I swear there is no one in my life, Angel. No one I’d rather be with than you.”

  She shook her head and refused to look at him. He wanted to shake her, to make her see what she was tossing away. God, he was dying inside. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before he looked at her. His heart twisted in his chest at what he was about to say. “Look, if you aren’t interested in more than some good times with a guy like me, then hell, just come right out and say it. Because I can’t take this. You won’t talk to me. I can’t help. I don’t know what else to do, except let go.”