Taste of Tara

by Shanna Hatfield

  “Then that’s what I’ll do.” Her fingers laced with his and she tipped back her head, letting the sun warm her face. “It’s a perfect day, isn’t it?”

  “So far, so good,” he said, leading her inside the parking structure that looked like a long, low barn from the three sides that guests might see. The fourth side was open and made it easy for staff to drive in and out of the building. At his pickup, he opened the passenger door, gave her a hand up, and then hurried around to the driver’s side.

  As they drove down a lane that took them out to the road, Tara looked around with interest. In the two weeks that she’d been at Magnolia Rose, spring had settled in the area, bringing with it an explosion of bursting life. The magnolias and dogwoods bloomed, along with a variety of beautiful flowers. She recognized azaleas, rhododendrons and wisteria mingling with roses and a variety of flowering perennials. The air filled with the perfumed scent of spring while glorious colors and textures filled her view of the landscape. “I’m not sure there’s anyplace prettier than right here.”

  Brett gave her a long, appreciative look, then tossed her a puckish wink. “I heartily agree.”

  A blush covered her cheeks. She stared out the window, ignoring his teasing, as he pulled onto the road and headed in the opposite direction of town.

  “Are you really taking me to see something named This or That?” Tara asked, wondering if he’d been kidding her all week.

  “I really am. I think you’ll be surprised to meet them, but first, let’s enjoy a picnic lunch.” Brett turned off the road onto a lane flanked by green pastures as far as the eye could see. White fences ran along the road and stretched out for miles, keeping horses in their grassy confines.

  “Oh,” Tara breathed, mesmerized by the sight of so many horses grazing. “Is this a horse farm?” She turned to him and pulled a silly face. “Stupid question, right? The fences, barns, and horses are sort of self-explanatory.”

  Brett chuckled and parked in front of a barn that was almost as old as the plantation on Magnolia Rose. Although it had been repaired many times, including an almost complete rebuild after it was badly damaged during the Civil War, the barn featured double turrets and spires, one on each end, with an open breezeway down the center of the building. Two dozen stalls, an office, a large tack room, and a small apartment in the overhead loft were all put to use. Further down the lane, on the other side of a hill, hidden from the view of the road, was a new state-of-the-art facility where he spent most of his time. However, something about the old barn built by his ancestors drew him there with frequency.

  “Welcome to Cutler Springs Farm,” Brett said, turning off the ignition and smiling at Tara as she stared at him.

  “Wait a minute. Ashley said a nearby farm supplied the horses for the living history events. Is that you? You own this farm?” Tara stared at him with a mixture of surprise and wonder.

  Brett laughed. “My parents and I are partners. I have my own breeding stock, house, and barn on the back side of the property. We do a little of everything here, from boarding horses to training, to breeding.” He got out of the pickup and walked around to open her door. “After lunch, I’ll show you around, but I’m starving.”

  “I had no idea… I just assumed…” Tara took his hand and slid out of the pickup, keeping her mouth closed as he lifted a picnic basket from the backseat of his pickup. Together, they followed a path past the barn that led to a sunny hilltop. Oak and willow trees provided shade for the quilt Brett spread on the lush grass.

  “Your picnic awaits, Miss Tarleton.” He held her hand as she settled herself on the blanket. With her legs tucked to one side, she glanced up at him and his heart began pounding in double time. She looked so pretty and entirely loveable, so undeniably kissable, he dredged up a heaping dose of willpower to keep from pushing her back on the blanket and losing himself in her soft sweetness.

  After he offered a brief word of thanks for the meal, he took out bread, cheese, slices of meat, fruit, and a container of lemon bars he picked up at the bakery in town. He removed two jars of strawberry lemonade and handed one to Tara.

  “It all looks delicious,” she said, studying the ripe red berries floating in the pale yellow lemonade. “Did you make this?”

  Brett shook his head. “My mom made the lemonade, the cookies and bread came from the bakery, but I did slice the cheese. Does that count?”

  Her laughter floated around him and drew out his smile. “It certainly does. Truly, this is wonderful.” She gazed around, taking in the pastures full of horses, the barn in the distance, the smell of earth and flowers blending with the slightest aroma of roasting meat on the breeze. “It’s gorgeous out here.”

  While they ate, Brett asked her questions about growing up in the Portland area. She asked him about the horse farm and his family history.

  “Honestly, Brett, I thought you just worked for Ashley and Wade. I had no idea you owned all the horses, or your own breathtaking corner of Georgia. You must think I’m an idiot.”

  He wiped his mouth on a napkin then smiled. “Not at all, Tara. It’s an easy mistake to make. Don’t give it another thought.”

  “Cutler Springs has been in your family for how many generations?” She looked out over the verdant pastures and pointed to several foals running in a race only they understood.

  Brett nodded at the antics of the horses. “Seven generations. My ancestors moved here in 1828. Tommy Culver, my great-great-grandfather however many times removed, was twenty-two that year. It wasn’t long after he arrived that he met one of the neighbor girls and fell head over heels in love.” He paused for a moment, realizing for the first time the wealth of emotion Tommy must have experienced upon meeting his future bride. Brett recalled the first day he’d set eyes on Tara and felt a jolt to the core of his being. Aware she awaited more of the story, he continued. “Beetrice Wellburn was already courting someone else, but after meeting my grandfather, she broke things off. The two of them wed three months later. They had six children, all girls but the youngest. My family endured wars, carpetbaggers, the Great Depression, and any number of tribulations, but through it all, Cutler Springs survived and eventually thrived.”

  She smiled and glanced around her surroundings again. “I’m so glad it did, Brett. What a wonderful legacy you have here to pass down to your children someday.”

  The mention of children filled his head with visions of sitting on a picnic blanket in his future with Tara beside him while dark haired children ran around them, laughing. The sudden notion that he wanted her to be the mother of those children caught him off guard.

  Abruptly sitting up, he turned his gaze from her to the nearby pasture, struggling to gain control of his composure and gather his thoughts.

  “Is everything okay, Brett? You look upset.” Tara placed a hand on his arm.

  “Everything is just fine, honey. If you’re finished with your lunch, I’ll introduce you to This and That.” Brett patted her hand reassuringly then stowed the leftovers from their lunch back in the picnic basket. He left the blanket and basket beneath the trees then held a hand out to Tara. “Ready?”

  “As ready as I can get.” She took his hand and stood then walked beside him as he headed up a path. At the top of the hill, Tara sucked in a surprised breath at the sight of more horses grazing in front of a large barn and a house that, while modest in size in comparison to the plantation homes she’d seen, looked like it had dropped into place from a previous century. “Is that your house?”

  Brett grinned “Like it?”

  At her nod, he continued walking along the path down the hill. “I built it three years ago. The inside is finished, although I haven’t done much in the way of decorating. All I really need is a place to sleep and a kitchen.”

  A look of question settled on her features as she turned to him. “I thought you didn’t cook.”

  He laughed. “I don’t. But I need somewhere for the microwave, freezer, and fridge that make it possible to keep and
reheat takeout or the leftovers my mom sends home with me.”

  Tara giggled. “You are hopeless, Mr. Cutler.”

  “Yes, I am, but only about certain things.” One of the things he was completely hopeless about was Tara. Hopelessly in love with her. However, today wasn’t the right time to voice his opinions. Not when they’d only really met a week ago.

  As they neared a fence, Brett moved away from her and leaned against the rails then whistled loudly. Two horses broke away from a group and trotted toward them.

  “Oh, Brett! They are stunning,” Tara said as the horses stopped on the other side of the fence and shook their manes.

  “They think they are,” Brett teased, reaching into his pocket for a handful of sugar cubes. He handed a few to Tara. “Hold them out on your palm and they’ll take them from you.”

  She did as he directed and beamed like a giddy girl when one of the horses nuzzled the treat from her. “That tickles,” she whispered, looking at Brett with eyes bright and full of life.

  “Tara, I want you to meet This and That, two of my favorite thoroughbreds, but don’t tell the others.” Brett held out the remaining sugar cubes and the horse greedily took them from him.

  “This and That? Are you still teasing me?” she asked, gingerly running a hand along the neck of one of the horses.

  “No, ma’am, I most certainly am not. That fine gentleman you’re petting is Thatcher’s Promise, but we call him That. And the winsome young lady over here is Thistle’s Dew, but we call her This. So now you’ve met This and That.”

  “So when you say you are working on This and That, shall I assume you’re working with these two?”

  He smiled and scratched This along the side of her neck. “That is correct. These twins were born three years ago and are coming along quite nicely, if I do say so myself.”

  “They’re beautiful, Brett. Thank you for introducing us.”

  “My pleasure.” He gave This a final pat before stepping back. Tara followed suit. The horses stood at the fence, waiting for more treats or attention, swishing their tails. When the humans failed to deliver, they turned and raced off across the pasture.

  Rapt with interest, Tara watched them until Brett touched her arm and tipped his head toward the barn. Hand in hand, they walked over to it. Although the outside of it blended in with the old buildings at Cutler Springs, the inside was a completely different story.

  “Oh, wow,” Tara said, stepping into the facility that looked sleek and modern. Brett pointed out some of his favorite aspects of the barn and showed her his office. He then took her on a meandering walk that led past a pond, an orchard, and back to the quilt he’d left beneath the trees.

  “Want to rest a while?” he asked, taking a seat next to Tara once she sat down.

  Dreamily, she smiled at him. “I’d love to. The afternoon is so warm, and nice, it would be a shame to spend the day inside.”

  He hid his surprise when she flopped back and crossed her hands beneath her head, staring up at the spring sky. Following her lead, he rested beside her and expelled a long breath. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d just lazed away an afternoon, especially with a pretty girl.

  “Oh, look at that cloud, Brett. It looks just like a star.” She pointed skyward, but he couldn’t make out the shape.

  He turned his head and studied her. “Did you do stuff like this as a little girl?”

  “Sure. My friend Ellen and I used to stare up at the sky all the time and talk about our dreams.” Tara sighed. “Ellen is on her way to being a big shot attorney, but she seems hesitant to take the next step, which is ditching me and our apartment in a suburb and moving downtown so she’s closer to work.”

  “Have you told her she should move?” Brett rolled onto his side so he could watch Tara. He found her far more fascinating than anything happening in the clouds above them.

  “I’ve tried to be subtle about it, but that hasn’t worked. I don’t want her to think I’m trying to kick her out, because I’m not. Ellen could share my apartment until we’re both so old and senile we’ve forgotten we’re friends and could be new acquaintances every day. But she has a long commute to and from work. With her ever-increasing work load of cases, and cases of greater responsibility with the firm, she needs to live closer to her job.” Tara sighed again. “I suppose I should tell her that, one of these days.”

  “Probably.” Brett battled the urge to kiss Tara. Sunlight streamed through the trees, highlighting the dark sheen of her hair, the creamy smoothness of her skin, and the ripeness of her lips. Focused on her mouth, he leaned toward her until he realized she’d closed her eyes.

  Amused she felt so comfortable around him she’d drifted to sleep, he propped himself up on one elbow and watched her. Skin like hers was meant to be kissed. Savored. Adored.

  It took great restraint to keep from trailing his lips down the decadent expanse of her neck.

  After a few minutes, he decided watching her so intently most likely rated high on the creepy scale among new acquaintances. He shifted onto his back, allowing himself to relax and close his eyes.

  The sound of a stifled giggle awakened him. Rapidly gaining his bearings, he remained unmoving as something tickled his nose. Rather than bat at it, he waited to see what Tara would do. Something brushed over his cheek then across his chin. A feathery touch, although he was certain it wasn’t a feather.

  Her breath blew across his neck and ignited an explosion of wanting. Before she could pull back, he wrapped his arms around her and drew her close, placing a moist, noisy smack to her neck.

  “Brett! You startled me,” she said, staring down at him with a mischievous glow in her luminous green eyes.

  He tightened his hold on her ever so slightly and stared into her face. He adored every freckle marching across her pert nose, the way her dark eyebrows arched over her eyes, and the peach-toned hue of her lips.

  It was then he noticed her long hair spilling all around them like midnight ribbons of silk. She still held the end of one lock between her fingers. Realization struck him of exactly what she’d been teasing him with — her hair.

  “What do you think you’re doing, Tara?” he asked in a husky tone, wondering if she had any idea what she did to him. Obviously she didn’t, or she wouldn’t be teasing and tempting him so.

  The light in her eyes darkened and her tongue darted out, moistening her lips. “I… I’m not sure…” she said on a whisper. Her playful appearance faded, replaced by a look of hesitant concern.

  Brett groaned and pulled her down until he could bury his face against the soft, fragrant skin of her neck. She smelled like ocean breezes and summer skies, with a hint of vanilla. Breathing deeply, he trailed his hands from her shoulders down to her waist and back up again. The idea of tugging down her zipper and sliding his hands against her skin crossed his mind. Just as quickly, he chased it away.

  He brought his hands back up and buried them in her hair, relishing how it felt entwined around his fingers. Slowly, his lips brushed across hers, tasting, sampling, giving.

  The next thing he knew, he rolled Tara onto her back and leaned over her, drawing a heated, fervent response from her willing lips.

  With the scent of spring filling the air, and the song of the birds in the trees serenading them, Brett kissed her over and over again, each blending of their mouths more passionate than the last.

  On the verge of losing his control, he kissed her once more then rose to his feet. He held a hand down to her, ignoring the befuddled look on her face. “Before I forget I’m a gentleman and decide to claim you as my own right here beneath the trees, I think we better go.”

  Tara nodded, subdued and uncertain. He couldn’t blame her if she was confused. One moment he was declaring his love for her through increasingly ardent kisses. The next, he was telling her it was time to go.

  As they gathered the quilt and picnic basket, Tara shot him a few questioning glances, but remained silent.

  Brett took the qu
ilt from her hand and tucked it beneath the arm carrying the picnic basket then placed his other around her shoulders, drawing her to his side. “I wasn’t teasing, Tara. Just being around you makes me want to toss caution and good sense aside. I’m sorry if I came on a little too strong, but you are so lovely and smell so good, I couldn’t help myself.” He gave her what he hoped was a charming, endearing grin. It must have worked because she relaxed against him and turned her face to his with a warm smile.

  “You didn’t come on too strong. Although I was wondering if you’d have kissed me quite so… freely, if I smelled like garlic and had on a dirty chef’s coat.”

  He chuckled and gave her a hand into his pickup. “You could smell like burnt garlic and have on a gunnysack and I’d still think you were the prettiest girl I’ve ever met.”

  She tilted her head to one side and grinned. “So under your list of faults, I can add no sense of smell and impaired vision.”

  His laughter preceded him around to the driver’s side of the pickup and behind the wheel. He started the pickup and put it in gear before he looked over at her. “Mom is making dinner and would be thrilled beyond words if you’d join us, but no pressure. If you aren’t interested, I can take you home, or we could go into town and grab something.” Brett drove back to the road.

  “I’d love to join your family, as long as it isn’t an imposition.”

  “Not at all. Mom will be ecstatic to meet you.” He’d only gone a few hundred feet down the main road when he turned onto a paved lane, surrounded on both sides by white fences and grazing horses.

  “How many horses are here on the farm?” Tara asked, watching foals race across the pasture.

  “If you count the boarders, breeders, and babies, we have right around two hundred.”

  She gaped at him then returned to staring out the window.

  Brett followed the lane around to the front of an impressive home that rivaled Magnolia Rose for both age and grandeur. The house would have appeared boxy, if not for the spectacular rotunda that fronted the second floor, braced by white pillars across the first floor. Red bricks faced the steps while black shutters at each window gave it an almost Federal style in appearance.