Too Wild to Tame Read online

  Bad thoughts. Thoughts she didn’t have any right to let form. But there they were. She’d been cleaned up, lotioned down, and dressed in smooth, snug material. After wearing mismatched oversized clothing so long, she felt like a stranger in her own skin. Not in a bad way, just a light-headed, euphoric, change of pace kind of way. Just for the night. And with that feeling came a tingle of permission to act out of the ordinary. Her ordinary anyway.

  Before they reached the Suburban, Aaron and Belmont appeared out of the darkness, as if they’d been lying in wait. Neither one of them was smiling, both of them with arms crossed. It was the first time Grace had witnessed their obvious brotherhood, and it made her want to push them into a man hug. Although the thought fled as fast as it appeared because Aaron’s arms dropped to his sides, that piercing gaze traveling high on Grace’s legs, disappearing up her skirt. At least the sensation of his perusal continued on, gliding along the underside of her panties, narrowing her concentration down to a slow inner clench.

  “What did you do to her?” Aaron murmured, his attention finally landing on her face. “She doesn’t need all that crap on her eyes.”

  “I like the crap,” Grace said, heat sliding from one side of her belly to the other. “The crap is fun and sparkly.”

  A muscle shifted in Aaron’s cheek. He turned his irritation onto Peggy, who appeared to be waiting for it, amused expression in place. “I don’t know where you think you’re going. There’s no bars for miles and they close early.”

  “I’m sure we’ll figure something out.” Peggy yanked open the driver’s side door of the Suburban, then snapped her fingers. “Ooh, I forgot my wallet. Be right back.”

  Aaron’s sister took off toward the cabin, leaving the four of them standing beneath the bright moon, awkwardness closing in without Peggy to run interference. Aaron and Grace may as well have been standing there alone for all the attention Belmont and Sage were paying them, though, eyes locked on one another.

  Wanting to give the two some privacy, Grace crossed behind the Suburban, intending to climb into the backseat, but Aaron beat her there, opening the door and holding out a hand to assist her. Trying to hide her inability to draw a breath, Grace slipped her hand into Aaron’s and climbed onto the cracked leather.

  Before she could settle onto the seat, Aaron’s low, vile curse caught her off guard. “What?”

  Aaron’s eyes were bright, reminding her of how they’d looked that morning, running the length of her body on the cabin bed. When she’d held his full erection in her hand, stroking it, listening to him growl. Now, in the dark, relative privacy of the Suburban’s backseat, Aaron’s attention was glued to the sliver of skin exposed between the skirt and her thigh-highs. “Jesus.” He ran a thumb beneath the hem, pushing the garment higher, baring the highest part of her legs, just above the stockings. “Why couldn’t they go all the way up, like your other ones?”

  “I like these better,” she whispered, battling the urge to open her knees. To let him look to his heart’s content.

  “No shit. I like them better, too.” He circled his hand around Grace’s upper thigh, brushing his thumb over her sensitive flesh, his masculine groan hardening her nipples. “Good thing you weren’t wearing these this morning. That little nylon barrier very well might have kept my cock from sinking in where I don’t belong.” His tongue touched the corner of his lips. “Yeah. You would have been ridden an inappropriate length of time before I came to my senses. I would have had to pull out and lick you wet again at least twice.”

  Lord above. Grace’s neck was trying its best to lose power, her limbs turning to goo. “Don’t say things like that,” she whimpered.

  “What? You don’t appreciate hearing my sick thoughts about fucking you?” Aaron stepped back, tilting his head to look up her skirt. “Try living in my mind for an hour. One hour.”

  “I wish I could. I wish it so bad.” Grace pressed the heels of her hands against her nipples, trying to ease the pressure. “But that’s not what I meant. I meant…don’t say you stopped because you came to your senses. It hurts me.”

  A ragged sound emerged from his throat. “Ah, baby. It wouldn’t hurt after the first minute or so. I’d work you through it, tell you in your ear how tight you feel.” He wasn’t looking her in the eye, wasn’t in the mood for an actual conversation about the issues between them. Maybe he was using sex to distract both of them, but she was too relieved Aaron still desired her body to take issue. Especially when he leaned down and laid a wet kiss on the inside of her thigh, at the stocking’s edge. “Keep your naked flesh beneath this skirt tonight, or so help me God, I will be down this mountain like a fucking bat out of hell. Are you hearing me?”

  He kissed the opposite thigh, tracing her stocking with a stiff tongue, setting off such a lustful squeeze between Grace’s legs, she grabbed hold of his hair, holding him in place. “Why?” she gasped, her stubbornness taking a stab at breaking through to him. “W-why would you do that?”

  Approaching footsteps had both of them heaving sighs of frustration, Aaron straightening, wiping the back of his wrist over his open mouth, those blazing eyes still riveted on the spot between Grace’s thighs. “Why?” Their gazes finally met, although it seemed as if they were looking at each other through a fog bank. And as the haze drifted past and cleared, Aaron’s expression adapted a now-familiar impassiveness. “Because you’ve made yourself my responsibility. If you get in trouble or show up tomorrow hung over, I shoulder the blame—”

  Before Aaron could annoy her straight out of anything resembling a good mood, Grace lunged forward on the seat, stamping her lips over Aaron’s. Satisfaction thrilled in her middle when his hand tangled in her hair and he groaned, trying to deepen the kiss—but she pulled back before complying became a temptation.

  “Shut the fuck up,” she whispered against his lips. “When you met me, I was setting up a robbery. No one tells me what to do. I’m a little thrown off right now, because I hurt someone I like. And now he’s hurting me back by staying away, even now, when I realize that’s not what I want. I never really did. And we’re in this place with a lot of hard memories for me. But I’m a warrior and you don’t tell me what to do.” She snagged his lip with her teeth, before letting it go. “You might have buried my ribbon cutter underneath a glare, but I know he’s still in there. So just shut the fuck up about responsibility and blame, Aaron Clarkson. We’re in this together, whether you like it or not.”

  On cue, the Suburban’s engine rumbled to life, capping off Grace’s rambling speech and lobbing her back to the present. It seemed to take Aaron slightly longer to catch up, his jaw hanging somewhere in the vicinity of his knees. Behind him, Belmont boosted Sage into the passenger’s side with such a stormy glower, Grace decided she’d gotten the more desirable male reaction.

  With a satisfied nod, Grace took hold of the plastic door handle, lifting an eyebrow when Aaron didn’t move out of the way. “Excuse me, please.”

  Finally, he stepped back, pointing his index finger at Grace. “I meant what I said.”

  “So did I.”

  Ignoring Aaron’s look of warning, Grace slammed the door shut, surprised to find Peggy reaching back for a high five. “Atta girl.”

  Grace strapped on her seatbelt with a decisive click. “Let’s roll.”

  * * *

  As it turned out, Aaron had been right about one thing. Bars in Iowa did close early. Even Peggy hadn’t been able to charm the weary bartender into serving them one final drink before locking the doors. She had, however, succeeded in sweet-talking their way into a bottle of cheap red wine from the bar’s supply, which they’d wrapped in a discarded McDonald’s bag from the Suburban’s backseat. And now passed between them. In a cornfield.

  Grace was having the time of her life.

  Surrounded by green stalks, drenched in moonlight, they were invisible from the world, every word they spoke seeming to get swallowed up into the ether. Never to be repeated or frowned upon. The last time sh
e’d sat outdoors with girls her own age, she’d been a camper at YouthAspire. Maybe drawing that comparison should have been upsetting, but she couldn’t have been happier. Taking a bittersweet moment and suturing the knife slashes in its sides with good. Making it okay to enjoy an occasion that would have made her weep in the name of unfairness not so long ago. Another moment to cherish, instead of mourn.

  Peggy passed the bottle of wine to Sage, but as the wedding planner had been doing all night, she looked at the bottle thoughtfully without actually drinking from it. “Bel looked fit to be tied when we left.”

  Sage picked at the bottle’s label. “It’ll be good for him. He has to learn the world won’t fall apart if something is outside his control.”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” Peggy fell back, bracing herself on the flat of her hands. “I think it’s only having Sage out of his control that gets him worked up.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” Sage said. “Maybe I shouldn’t have come running to New Mexico. I just—”

  “You don’t have to explain,” Peggy interjected, the white light filtering down from the sky to catch the engagement rings strung around her neck. “I’m glad you did come, though. Saved me from being trapped in the car with two stubborn men. One of them might have been my first murder victim.”

  Banishing the wistfulness she felt creeping in at watching the close relationship between the two women, Grace reached for the wine bottle and took a healthy swig, settling the green glass between her folded legs. “Would it be all right if I asked…are you Belmont’s girlfriend? Sometimes I think it’s obvious, but others…”

  “No, I’m not his girlfriend,” Sage answered in a rush. “He’s never even kissed me.” Clearly mortified at having revealed that detail, the wedding planner hummed a few bars of the “Wedding March.” “I’m sorry I said that in front of you, Peggy. He’s your brother.”

  Peggy made a magnanimous gesture. “Say what you will. We are within the cone of silence.” She shrugged. “Either way, it’s been like watching a weird kink performance through double-sided glass since you two met. I think we passed kissing and went straight to edging.”

  “Peggy.” Sage settled back into her cross-legged position. “What’s edging?”

  Grace didn’t realize she was laughing until her sides began to ache. “It’s okay, Sage. I don’t know, either.”

  “Oh, you don’t? Pretty sure you’ve been”—Peggy twirled her fingers in Grace’s direction—“starring in your own orgasm deprivation scene with Aaron.” Her face screwed up in disgust. “Maybe I’m not as comfortable talking about this as I thought. Stop hogging the wine.”

  Sage took the bottle from Grace and held it out to Peggy. “Speaking of Aaron…” She pursed her lips as if trying to diminish a smile. “What’s happening there?”

  With a blown-out breath, Grace stared out over the jagged cornfield outline against the night sky. “Aaron is just…wow.” She breathed the word, closing her eyes. “When I saw him, I thought he was a movie star. There’s so much stuff going on in his head, but I forgot to see it. Or I stopped looking, just like he wanted. That was my mistake. And now he’s shut me out. Stopped giving me those little glimpses into why he’s so…hardened. I hate that. It’s horrible, trying to make him see me again. See himself again.” Silence greeted Grace’s speech, and when she opened her eyes, the two women stared back in surprise, although she detected a hint of appreciation in Peggy’s case. “So, I’m going to seduce him tonight and go from there,” Grace finished with a decisive nod.

  Peggy, who’d just taken an unfortunate sip of wine, spit it out on the ground. “Holy shit. Sage, we both need to take a page out of her playbook.” Something about her own words made the light fade from Peggy’s gaze. “My plan was to show up in Cincinnati—our next stop—and just make the fucker’s life a living hell. Maybe I would catch more bees with honey.” She tossed her curls back over her shoulder. “Screw it, too much plotting has gone into the original plan. No turning back now.”

  Before she could second-guess herself, or worry that touching another person too soon might result in them being uncomfortable, Grace reached over and laid a hand on Peggy’s arm. “I’ve had experience making lives hell. There’s definitely merit in both.”

  For a few beats, Peggy only scrutinized Grace, as if checking between her words for alternate meanings. “Whose life could you possibly make hell?”

  Grace smiled. “Ask Aaron. I think I’m making his life hell.”

  Sage curled a hand around the wine bottle, lifting it up in a toast. “Not tonight!”

  Their trio of laughter cut off abruptly when a strange sound interrupted the night’s stillness. They all exchanged a panicked glance, each of them rising slowly to their feet. Grace actually had to bat mist out of way to get a good look at the surrounding cornfield. “It sounded like an animal.”

  Peggy edged closer to Sage, the wine bottle forgotten on the ground at their feet. “What kind of animals are out here in the dead of winter?”

  Breathing turned ragged, Sage pressed a hand to her chest. “Oh God. All I can see is that movie Jeepers Creepers about the scarecrow—”

  “Oh my God, not helping,” Peggy grated.

  “Pheasant. It could be a pheasant.” Grace nodded, a chill working its way down the back of her neck when the high-pitched gurgling noise reached them again, this time much closer. “Yeah, that wasn’t a pheasant.”

  After that, the sequence of events blurred together. An object shot out of the soupy fog, emitting a harsh gurgle and heading straight for Sage. It whirled around and careened toward Grace. Someone screamed—presumably Peggy, since Grace had been rendered mute in her desperation to identify the creature hell bent on terrorizing them—and all three women went sprinting toward the Suburban, which unfortunately, was a quarter mile back toward the road.

  “It’s following us,” Peggy screeched. “What the fuck even is it?”

  Sage executed an Olympic-caliber hurtle over a row of corn stalks. “I’m not turning around to find out.”

  “Get your car keys out,” Grace instructed. “Get them out, so we can just dive in.”

  “Good call, Jason Bourne.” Peggy shoved a hand into her pocket, but yanked it back out on a squeal when the animal picked up the pace enough to nip at the back of her shoe. “Oh, shit! No way. No way I’m dying in this field and letting my brothers say, ‘I told her so’ at my funeral.”

  “Belmont’s never even kissed me,” Sage pointed out, sounding on the verge of hysteria.

  A laugh tickled the lining of Grace’s belly, the reality of the situation catching up with her. Someone needed to have a cool head here and the fact that she—the impulsive, headstrong black sheep of the Pendleton family—was auditioning for the role, struck her as hilarious, even as she slowed her sprint, getting her first good look at their tormentor. “It’s…you guys, it’s a turkey.”

  Peggy shot her a look that said you’re not serious, but kept running. “Turkey or wolverine, it’s still chasing us. Should I just stop?”

  “No way.” Grace forced gravity into her tone. “They’re hungry because the corn is running out. Those things won’t stop until they peck your eyes out.”

  Sage took the lead after that, all but blazing a path of fire to the Suburban. Peggy—reciting a series of Hail Marys under her breath—finally succeeded in removing the keys from her pocket, jangling them in front of her, as if they might ward off evil. “If Rita was here, she’d be the first victim. My sister can’t run for shit. Dammit, I miss her. If only because her flat feet could save my life,” Peggy said on a strangled shout. “This is so fucked up. I should have married a tax accountant and joined the PTA.”

  The cold night air and the adventure of it all sent exhilaration racing over Grace’s skin, wrapping her in familiar mischief. “No, no, you were meant to be here. You’re meant to go make that man’s life hell.” Grace fought back a giggle. “You have to live, Peggy. Don’t let the turkey win.”

  The
y finally reached the Suburban at the road’s edge, Sage scrambling onto the hood in front of them, Peggy and Grace following suit. And no sooner were they elevated to safety than Grace collapsed back against the windshield, laughter wracking her body with such ferocity, she had to hug her sides. Tears blurred her vision when she opened her eyes to find Peggy and Sage staring down at her with a mixture of dismay and suspicion, only bringing on a renewed bout of undiluted mirth.

  “I’m sorry. I really shouldn’t be laughing, but your faces…”

  “Oh sure.” Peggy’s mouth twitched. “Get your jollies at the expense of us two West Coast rubes. That’s just…great.”

  Sage cringed when the turkey began pecking at the front fender. “My life flashed before my eyes and all I saw was other people’s weddings.” She split a look between them. “I mean, how pathetic is that?”

  “It’s not,” Grace said, squeezing her knee. “It’s not pathetic if planning weddings is something you love doing.”

  “It is.” Sage looked thoughtful. “This is going to sound ridiculous, but it occurred to me while we were running from the turkey that I haven’t been totally honest.” She gathered her legs to her chest. “I came on this trip for more than one reason. Not just to…comfort Belmont. There’s something I need to do in Louisiana. I’m going to break off after Cincinnati. I should have told you, Peggy.”

  It took Peggy some time to respond. “Who says you have to break off? Maybe we can make time to come along—”

  Sage shook her head. “I’m better off going alone.”

  “Sage,” Peggy started. “Bel’s going to need you in New York.”