really argue with him. I had to come up with something quick.”
This time, it was Jace who laughed, a low, quiet rumble that came from somewhere in the depths of his chest.
“Which is how we got Monthly Cake Dump Day.”
Bronte must have looked confused because P.D. quickly explained, “The Cake Dump is a bakery here in town.”
The explanation teased a memory from Bronte’s brain. “The place with the doughnuts and hot rolls?”
“That’s the one,” P.D. affirmed exuberantly. “He put the ‘kitty’ carefully back in its hole, and we hightailed it out of there before mama could come home and catch us messing with her litter.”
“Leaving the third day of every month as an official Cake Dump Day.”
“It’s a small price to pay not to have Elam’s cabin covered in skunk spray.”
P.D. and Jace laughed, and as she watched the bob of his Adam’s apple, the unconscious way he rubbed the bridge ofhis nose, those damned lines at the corner of his eyes, she was inundated with a wave of hunger that took her completely by surprise.
Suddenly, she wanted to touch him. She wanted to reassure herself that he was real. She wanted to bracket his face in her hands and look deep into his eyes. But more than anything, she wanted to kiss him.
Whoa, girl.
Just because she’d severed the last ties with her husband didn’t mean she had the time or the energy to rush headlong into the arms of another. That would be a big mistake.
Big
mistake. The mere thought of how complicated things could get—juggling her present worries with the emotional seesawing of a relationship that could never be anything more than temporary . . .
Her brain threatened to implode from the mere thought of the risk. Not to mention the upheaval that would soon erupt with her children when they discovered the divorce was final.
Jace.
In the past week, she’d discovered that he had his own brand of worries. He was knee-deep in spring planting and running the business end of Taggart Enterprises. From what she’d heard so far, Barry was hell on wheels, but Jace had somehow managed to deal with his brother’s special needs along with everything else.
Bronte joined in the laughter, but as her gaze flicked back to Jace, she realized how much he’d sacrificed over the last few years. He must have been in his wild twenties when the accident had occurred. To be that young and assume the responsibility of a sibling, especially one who’d suffered a brain injury?
It must have changed his entire life. Suddenly, he would have been confronted with rigid schedules, occupational therapy, doctors’ visits, school challenges. Judging by the lack of feminine frippery in the house, it didn’t look like he’d had a wife or girlfriend to help him. Even his brothers had been limited in their ability to lessen the load. If she remembered some of their earlier conversations correctly,Elam had been out of the country and Bodey had been little more than a teenager himself.
Bronte wondered if his brothers were even aware of how difficult the shift in lifestyles must have been for Jace. Bronte fiercely loved her daughters. She would willingly step in front of a speeding bus if that’s what she had to do to protect them. Until each squirming bundle had been placed in her arms, she hadn’t understood how strong and all-consuming her desire to provide for them could be.
Yet, even with all that powerful emotion bonding them together, there were still days when she was severely tempted to send them both to military school. Kari could be petulant and obstinate and downright mean when she was in a snit. And Lily. Even her darling, shy Lily could whine and moan and pitch a fit worthy of a three-year-old. And the two of them together?
Lord, save her from the constant bickering and sniping.
So if Bronte had moments like that, even after having given birth to her daughters, how much more difficult must it have been for a twentysomething young man to step in and do
This time, it was Jace who laughed, a low, quiet rumble that came from somewhere in the depths of his chest.
“Which is how we got Monthly Cake Dump Day.”
Bronte must have looked confused because P.D. quickly explained, “The Cake Dump is a bakery here in town.”
The explanation teased a memory from Bronte’s brain. “The place with the doughnuts and hot rolls?”
“That’s the one,” P.D. affirmed exuberantly. “He put the ‘kitty’ carefully back in its hole, and we hightailed it out of there before mama could come home and catch us messing with her litter.”
“Leaving the third day of every month as an official Cake Dump Day.”
“It’s a small price to pay not to have Elam’s cabin covered in skunk spray.”
P.D. and Jace laughed, and as she watched the bob of his Adam’s apple, the unconscious way he rubbed the bridge ofhis nose, those damned lines at the corner of his eyes, she was inundated with a wave of hunger that took her completely by surprise.
Suddenly, she wanted to touch him. She wanted to reassure herself that he was real. She wanted to bracket his face in her hands and look deep into his eyes. But more than anything, she wanted to kiss him.
Whoa, girl.
Just because she’d severed the last ties with her husband didn’t mean she had the time or the energy to rush headlong into the arms of another. That would be a big mistake.
Big
mistake. The mere thought of how complicated things could get—juggling her present worries with the emotional seesawing of a relationship that could never be anything more than temporary . . .
Her brain threatened to implode from the mere thought of the risk. Not to mention the upheaval that would soon erupt with her children when they discovered the divorce was final.
Jace.
In the past week, she’d discovered that he had his own brand of worries. He was knee-deep in spring planting and running the business end of Taggart Enterprises. From what she’d heard so far, Barry was hell on wheels, but Jace had somehow managed to deal with his brother’s special needs along with everything else.
Bronte joined in the laughter, but as her gaze flicked back to Jace, she realized how much he’d sacrificed over the last few years. He must have been in his wild twenties when the accident had occurred. To be that young and assume the responsibility of a sibling, especially one who’d suffered a brain injury?
It must have changed his entire life. Suddenly, he would have been confronted with rigid schedules, occupational therapy, doctors’ visits, school challenges. Judging by the lack of feminine frippery in the house, it didn’t look like he’d had a wife or girlfriend to help him. Even his brothers had been limited in their ability to lessen the load. If she remembered some of their earlier conversations correctly,Elam had been out of the country and Bodey had been little more than a teenager himself.
Bronte wondered if his brothers were even aware of how difficult the shift in lifestyles must have been for Jace. Bronte fiercely loved her daughters. She would willingly step in front of a speeding bus if that’s what she had to do to protect them. Until each squirming bundle had been placed in her arms, she hadn’t understood how strong and all-consuming her desire to provide for them could be.
Yet, even with all that powerful emotion bonding them together, there were still days when she was severely tempted to send them both to military school. Kari could be petulant and obstinate and downright mean when she was in a snit. And Lily. Even her darling, shy Lily could whine and moan and pitch a fit worthy of a three-year-old. And the two of them together?
Lord, save her from the constant bickering and sniping.
So if Bronte had moments like that, even after having given birth to her daughters, how much more difficult must it have been for a twentysomething young man to step in and do
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