Asking for Trouble (2 page)

With arms crossed over her bulging stomach, Jenna leaned against her white convertible and scowled. “You are so full of it. While I could almost believe it of good old Brett, Cole Matheson certainly didn’t date you for your organizational skills.”

Miranda sucked in a breath. She’d learned not to let chance comments about her ex-boyfriend get to her.
Right?

“Maybe not, but Cole wasn’t interested in settling down and starting a family. Brett is, just not with me.”

Sympathy filled her friend’s eyes. “Maybe all men really are idiots. Except my husband, of course. And my brother. Honey says Chase has been a rock since she came down with chicken pox.”

“Honey has chicken pox?”

“Can you believe it?” After opening the car door, she eased down onto the seat then swung her legs inside. “She and Chase were going to keep baby Jackson while Andee and Davis are in Hawaii, but now they can’t.”

Miranda frowned. “He’s still on the schedule for every day next week. Who’s watching him?”

“You’re gonna love this. His uncle.”

She blinked and stared at Jenna. Was it possible Andee had a brother she didn’t know about? “Not Cole.”

“Yes, Cole. I don’t know who I should feel sorrier for, the baby or your ex. Everyone in Redemption knows Jackson Matheson is a demon in a diaper.”

A slow smile curled Miranda’s lips. “He really is a handful.”

“Should be interesting. Rumor has it, they’re already betting on the outcome down at the feed store.” Her laugh echoed over the purr of the car’s engine. “Personally, my money’s on the baby.”

The convertible cruised out of the parking lot, leaving Miranda alone with her thoughts. Maybe it was wrong to wish a heaping dose of trouble on Cole. Maybe it was wrong to want to see him suffer. Pulling open the door of her little, blue bug, she slipped inside and turned the key in the ignition. Her smile broadened as she backed out of the parking spot and headed down Cottonwood Avenue toward Main Street. Maybe it was wrong, but she was off to place a bet. And it wasn’t on her ex.

****

Eyes wide, Cole stared at the baby paraphernalia piled on his living room floor. Playpen, stroller, car seat, highchair, a plastic gate, diaper bag, two suitcases with bulging sides, boxes full of stuffed animals, books, food containers and more toys than one small boy could possibly play with in a lifetime. Let alone ten days. Rubbing the back of his neck where a tension headache was threatening, he wondered where the hell to put it all.

His sister-in-law whipped an inch-thick packet of papers out of her purse and laid it on the table. “Some tips that might help you when he’s tired and cranky, instructions for his meals, a schedule, doctor and insurance information—just in case—and emergency phone numbers.” Her lips trembled, and tears clouded hazel eyes as she stroked Jackson’s red curls. “God, what was I thinking? I can’t leave him. I just can’t do it.”

Cole’s heart leapt with hope.

“Yes, you can.” Davis rubbed his wife’s shoulders then bent to kiss her clipped curls, the same shade of red as her son’s. “You need a break, and Jackson will have a terrific time with his uncle.” His brother’s fierce gaze locked with his. “Won’t he, Cole?”

His hopes plummeted even faster than they’d risen. “Uh, sure. We’re gonna have a blast together.” Forcing his lips to cooperate, he gave Andee a weak smile. “Down at Wilson Brothers Feed, betting is ten to one Jackson will kick my ass in less than three days. I’m going to prove them all wrong.”

“Only ten to one? I thought the odds had increased.” Andee wiped away a stray tear. “Just so you know, my money’s on you, and I bet a bundle.”

He smiled—a real one this time. “I appreciate that.” Stepping forward, he gave his sister-in-law an awkward hug, ignoring Jackson’s squawk of protest as he was squashed between them. “I’ll take good care of your boy. I promise. You two just concentrate on having a wonderful time in Hawaii.”

“How could we not?” She let out a long sigh, and with a final kiss for her son, handed him over. “Be a good boy, Jackson. Mommy loves you.” Turning, she ran out the front door.

Clasping the squirming baby, Cole directed a worried gaze toward Davis. “Is she going to be okay?”

“She’ll be fine once the trauma of the initial break wears off. Just so you know, I made her promise only two phone calls per day to check up on Jackson. Make sure you only report the good stuff.” Bending, he rested his cheek on his son’s head, a flash of deep emotion clouding his eyes. “We’ll see you in ten days.”

Cole’s heart pounded as his brother crossed the room and closed the door behind him with a firm click. A moment later, the sound of a car engine faded into the night. Taking a deep breath, he looked into Jackson’s curious brown eyes. Reaching up a chubby hand, the baby pulled his nose and laughed.

“At least you’re happy about this.” He glanced around the room. “I suppose I should put your stuff away.” Setting the baby in the playpen Davis had set up, he toted a box of food into the kitchen. After stacking jars of carrots, peaches and disgusting looking meats beside boxes of cereal and a tower of chocolate bars in the pantry, he dumped a half dozen plastic sippy cups into a drawer filled with placemats he never used. When a scratching sound from the other room caught his attention, he stuck his head around the doorway.

“Jesus! Where the hell did you find that?” Rushing forward, he grabbed the hoof pick out of his nephew’s clenched fist and stared in horror at the long gouge in the coffee table beside the playpen. When his knees threatened to buckle, he sank onto the couch.

Jackson waved his hands and shouted some unintelligible baby talk.

“No. That thing could hurt you. How about an elephant?” Lifting the floppy-eared animal from a box of toys, he offered it forward.

The baby screwed up his face and let loose a howl the neighbors a quarter mile away could probably hear. Imagining Andee’s reaction if Child Protective Services were called to investigate, he searched for a solution.

“All right, no elephant. Let’s try a bear.”

Jackson tossed the bedraggled Teddy across the room with impressive strength, knocking over a lamp and shattering the bulb.

“Well, shit!” Picking up the shrieking baby, he bounced him in his arms. “Come on, man, work with me.”

Gulping for air, Jackson cried even louder, his face turning a shade of crimson Cole had only seen in cartoons. Surely his head would explode if he didn’t let up soon.

Sweat broke across his brow as he jostled his nephew a little harder. “Nothing is that bad. You can’t be hungry. Andee said you just ate.” He bent to sniff the baby’s padded butt. “Nope, you smell okay, so it’s not that. Maybe some alone time?”

Lowering him into the playpen, he took a couple of steps back. Jackson’s eyes narrowed before he pounded his forehead against the covered railing.

“Stop that!” Picking him up again, he strode around the pile of baby equipment and headed outside, hoping fresh air would calm the tantrum.

Tucker scrambled to his feet from his bed on the porch. The tail poised to wag drooped as the dog let out a howl. Cole clamped his free hand over one ear and winced. The clamor rose in volume as Jackson kicked and screamed, arms flailing. One swinging fist caught him in the nose, and stars exploded behind closed eyelids. Dropping onto the top porch step, he hung his head and waited for the pain to ease.

When he was certain he wasn’t going to pass out, he juggled Jackson to the side, fished his cell phone from his pocket and scrolled through the contacts. One name jumped out, the solution to all his problems—if she didn’t hang up on him. Cole pushed the button and prayed.

When a soft voice caressed his ear, he let out a shaky breath. “Help.”

Chapter Two

A faint voice spoke through the screams of a baby who was surely being tortured. The words were indistinct, but something about the tone was familiar… “Cole?”

“Of course it’s me. Please, Miranda, you have to…”

The shrieking increased in volume, drowning out whatever he was saying. But it didn’t take a genius to guess what he wanted—help dealing with Jackson. A smile lifted the corners of her lips.
Served him right.
What she
should
do was hang up and let him suffer. From the sound of it, though, Cole wasn’t the only miserable party. And Andee was a good friend…

Clicking the phone shut, she shoved it in her purse. Letting him stew in agony for the length of time it would take her to drive across town was modest payback for the tears she’d shed last fall.

After grabbing a light jacket and her keys from the hook by the door, she strolled outside. Stars filled the sky, but the evening was cool rather than cold. No point in rushing to the rescue when she could enjoy the drive.

Cruising through the neighborhood of small homes with neatly trimmed front lawns, Miranda braked for a pair of teenage girls crossing the road. Their laughter floated on the breeze as they hurried up a driveway to a brightly lit house. Inside the modest homes lining the quiet street, kids finished their homework, women washed dinner dishes, and families gathered around the TV. At least she imagined as much. Ordinary family time. A sigh slipped through her lips. It’s what she’d fantasized sharing with Cole when their relationship turned serious, before he made it clear he wasn’t interested in pursuing the American dream of two point five children, a dog and a mini-van. Not that he had anything against dogs.

She should have believed all his laughing comments about kids strangling the life out of a man and sapping his independence. She should have backed away before it was too late—before he’d won her heart and broken it. Falling for a man who didn’t really exist, one whose values were so different from her own, had been sheer stupidity. If ripping him out of her life had nearly killed her, she had no one to fault but herself. Still, it was far more satisfying to lay the blame squarely at Cole Matheson’s boot clad feet.

Turning onto Main Street, her VW chugged past businesses closed for the night. Only the Rusty Nail Saloon showed signs of life with several pickups parked in the lot beside it. Making a left turn onto Piney Wood Lane, she glanced up the long drive leading to the mayor’s sprawling mansion where a bevy of yard ornaments were mere shadows in the night. On the outskirts of town, only the glow from an occasional porch light relieved the darkness. Making one final turn, her car bounced along the rutted track leading to Cole’s cabin and shook loose the suspicion she was making a huge mistake. Jackson would survive a dose of his uncle’s inept care, but her heart might not fare so well. Parking beside his battered red pickup, she killed the engine. Too late now to second guess her mission of mercy.

After climbing from the car, she shut the door and stood for a moment to soak in the familiar surroundings. Chief whickered softly from the corral behind her, hooves thumping the packed earth. Between the stable and the cabin, starlight illuminated a life-sized moose with an impressive rack of antlers. The metal clink of dog tags alerted her to Tucker’s presence moments before the ridgeback pushed his nose against her hand. Dropping to her knees, she rubbed his silky ears.

“How are you, boy? I’m not sure who I missed more, you or Cole.” When the dog whined in pleasure, she smiled and scratched harder. “How come you’re outside at this hour?”

The silence erupted in a muted shriek of rage from the direction of the cabin, followed by a sharp expletive. If Jackson had been sleeping before, he wasn’t any longer.

“Now I know why you’re out here.” She gave the dog a final pat. “I don’t blame you one bit, but I’ll do my best to restore your peace and quiet.”

Reluctantly, Miranda rose to her feet. Time to play hero and rescue her ex from his miniature tormentor.

The baby was in full tantrum mode by the time she reached the porch. Figuring knocking would be pointless, she opened the front door and crossed the threshold into the battle zone. Baby paraphernalia was strewn across the room, and a shattered lamp lay near the leather couch where some gooey, tan substance pooled on a cushion. Even knowing Cole as well as she did, she hadn’t expected the extent of the mayhem. Giving the door a hard slam, she smiled when two pairs of brown eyes turned in her direction.

“Having fun?”

“You came.”

Were those tears welling in his eyes? A closer look revealed only one watering cornea, probably the result of an encounter with a waving finger. It was almost as red and angry looking as the baby in his arms. He stepped over the fallen lamp and held out his nephew.

Taking Jackson from his grasp, Miranda cuddled the boy and made shushing noises. The crying petered out with a few final, hiccupped sobs. Resting his tear-stained face against her breast, the baby closed his eyes.

“How the hell did you do that?”

Miranda stared at Cole over the top of Jackson’s head and frowned. “I’m relaxed, and he senses that. It gives him a feeling of security. You, on the other hand, are a bundle of nerves, not exactly soothing to a child.”

“Well damn, if I’d known popping tranquilizers would shut him up, I would have gotten a prescription.” He dropped onto the couch cushion beside the gooey mess and held his head in his hands. “Ten days of this will kill me. What in the name of God was my brother thinking, leaving his kid with me?”

“Davis mistakenly assumed you were a responsible adult.” The sweet, baby scent of Jackson teased her senses, and she breathed deep. “Watching a child for a few days isn’t exactly rocket science. Even you should be able to cope.”

Glancing up, he gestured around the room. “You can see how well that’s going.”

She rolled her eyes. “Since Jackson is clearly exhausted, where would you like me to put him?”

“There’s a crib in the guest bedroom. Davis set it up before he left.” He heaved a sigh. “The kid actually fell asleep after I called you, but when I tried to lay him in the bed, he woke up.”

Stepping around overflowing boxes, she headed toward the back of the cabin. “You probably dropped him. Come along, my helpless friend, and I’ll give you a lesson in the art of keeping sleeping babies asleep.”