Asking for Trouble (6 page)

“Huh?”

“Never mind.” She drew in a long breath and let it out slowly. “If I agree to see you on occasion for strictly platonic activities, will you quit badgering me and let me go back to bed. It’s the middle of the night, and I’d like to get a few hours of sleep.”

“You bet.”

His smooth drawl rolled across her senses like melted butter over the pancakes they’d enjoyed. Pressing her lips together, she nodded, then slipped back into the bedroom, clicking the door shut behind her.

“Well, hell,” she whispered. “That was stupid, stupid, stupid.”

Navigating around the crib in the glow of the nightlight, she crawled into bed and tucked her knees tight against her chest. Spending any sort of time with Cole would just make her fall in love with him all over again.

As if you ever stopped.

The irritating inner voice taunted her. Ignoring it, she pondered the more pressing question.
What’s in it for Cole?
The man didn’t have women who were just friends. He pursued them with one goal in mind—bed. Hard to believe he’d gone all noble because he missed her zippy comebacks. If she knew Cole—and she knew him better than most—he had an ulterior motive. She sifted through the possibilities until a tension headache threatened. Call her slow, but if sex wasn’t the objective, she couldn’t begin to imagine what Cole Matheson wanted.

Chapter Five

Cole juggled the grocery sack as he pushed the door open, waited for Tucker to amble through, then shut it behind him. Humming beneath his breath, he headed into the kitchen—and lurched to a stop. “You’re up.”

“Of course I’m up. It’s almost eight o’clock.”

Miranda spooned something that smelled like peaches or apricots into Jackson’s mouth while the baby played with the Cheerios littering his tray. Wearing the wrinkled shirt and shorts from the previous day, and with her hair hanging down her back, she looked utterly beautiful despite the dark shadows beneath her eyes. A testament to her lack of sleep the night before. He could relate.

“I bought eggs and bacon, also bread and lunchmeat and fruit that doesn’t come in a jar.” He lifted a plastic container from the top of the grocery sack. “And, my favorite chocolate chip cookies. I thought we could have a picnic lunch later.”

She didn’t even glance his way. “Later, I’ll be in my garden. I didn’t finish planting my petunias thanks to an unexpected trip to the emergency room.” With a paper towel, she wiped Jackson’s mouth. “But eggs sound good. Are you cooking?”

“If you like scrambled.”

“Sure.” She spun around on the chair and eyed him soberly. “Your nephew seems to be one hundred percent this morning, so you don’t have to worry about a concussion anymore. I gave him a bath and put a new bandage on the cut. He’s good to go.”

His jaw sagged. “You did all that and fed him breakfast during the half-hour I was gone?”

“It was forty minutes, and I’m a model of efficiency.” Her smile was fleeting. “I take care of kids for a living, so I may be a little faster at it than you are.”

“I haven’t attempted a bath, yet.” He grinned as he set the bag down on the counter. “Hot damn. Now I can put it off for a couple more days.”

“Glad to perk up your morning. And speaking of perk, where do you hide the coffee? I looked everywhere but under the bathroom sink.”

“I ran out a few days ago.” Rummaging through the groceries, he pulled out a package and waved it. “I did remember to buy more.”

“Thank God.” Leaving Jackson with his Cheerios, she snatched the bag from his hand and headed straight to the coffee maker. “You cook the bacon, and I’ll make the coffee.”

“Team work.” He lifted one long, auburn curl as she passed and gave it a tug. “We always did work well together.”

“That’s because you’re not the kind of guy who thinks he always knows best.” Running water into the pot, she glanced at him and smiled. “One of your more admirable traits.”

“I have a few.” Slitting open the package of bacon, he laid slices in the frying pan. Moments later, a sizzle and hiss filled the air with an aroma that made his stomach growl.

When the coffee maker gurgled and sputtered, spitting out a few final drops, Miranda poured two mugs of coffee and stirred sugar into one. “Here you go.”

He took it from her, their fingers brushing. A tingle shot through the hand he made an effort to steady before he sipped the hot brew. “Perfect. Sweet, but not overly so. Like you.”

She laughed. “Thanks, I think.” After pulling a bowl out of the cupboard, she cracked eggs into it and beat them with a fork. Turning to reach for the salt and pepper, she pointed at the pan. “That bacon looks done.”

He jerked and slopped coffee. “Crap, I forgot what I was doing.”

Setting down the cup, he grabbed a pair of tongs from a drawer, turned off the burner and lifted the dripping strips out onto a paper towel. Crispy verging on burnt. Completely Miranda’s fault. He’d been mesmerized by the sway of her breasts beneath the thin cotton shirt as she whipped the eggs…

“I’ll cook these if you’ll take Jackson out of the highchair. He’s starting to fuss.”

“He is?” Spinning on his boot heel, he studied his nephew, noting the downward tilt to his lips. “Is that the key, figuring out what he wants before he throws a fit?”

She shot him an approving look. “Bingo.”

“So, all I have to do is learn to read minds.”

“Observation and common sense works, too.” Her voice held a hint of amusement.

Lifting the baby, he glanced around, feeling more than a little stupid. “What do I do with him?”

Miranda poured beaten eggs into the frying pan, stirred, then dropped slices of bread into the toaster. “If you’d been stuck in a high chair for twenty minutes, what would you want?”

“Freedom.”

“Exactly.”

“So, I should just let him crawl around?”

“Why not? But keep an eye on him. You haven’t exactly baby proofed this place.”

Jackson took off at a fast crawl the second his knees hit the floor, paused beside a Cheerio he’d dropped and stuck it in his mouth. When he headed in Tucker’s direction with a determined look in his eyes, the dog heaved himself off the floor and trotted out the door, tail tucked and toenails clicking.

“Tucker doesn’t know what to do with babies, either.”

“That’s because he’s old and set in his ways. You don’t have the same excuse.” She spooned fluffy eggs onto two plates then laid bacon and toast on top. “Breakfast is ready. You can refill the cups.”

“Sure.” After pouring the coffee, he slid onto his chair. “Thanks for doing all the work.”

“No problem.” She munched overcooked bacon and studied him. “About last night—”

“That’s why I suggested a picnic.” Cole raised his voice to drown out words he was pretty certain he didn’t want to hear. “You can’t get much more platonic than a picnic. We’ll go for a ride. Jackson seems to like Chief.” When she opened her mouth, he rushed on. “You wouldn’t want to deprive him of a horseback ride, would you? I can’t manage on my own.”

Her eyes narrowed. “That’s low, dragging poor little Jackson into this.”

“Can’t we have some fun together? Hanging out in the ER doesn’t count, and you agreed to—”

“You’re worse than Tucker with a steak bone. Tenacious.” Her huff of breath fluttered the paper towel she was using as a napkin. “Jezebel’s been alone since yesterday afternoon—”

“The cat will survive a few more hours of its own company.”

“What am I going to ride? You only have one horse.”

“I’m boarding two others at the moment. One’s a sweet little mare that should suit you.” He glanced over when his nephew squealed and smacked a couple of blocks together before returning his attention to Miranda.

“Fine, but you have to promise not to turn this into an all-day adventure. Besides Jezebel and the waiting petunias, I have laundry to do.”

He bit into his toast and widened his eyes in mock innocence. “Whatever you want. You’re in charge.”

****

The horses trotted side by side across the prairie, soft wickers mingling with Jackson’s happy chirps. The baby bounced on his uncle’s lap while his little fingers tangled in Chief’s mane. The man had lied. Cole didn’t need any help managing the baby on horseback. He looked far more relaxed riding the big Appaloosa than he did in his own living room.

Not that Miranda minded being tricked. Beauty, the small, gray mare, quivered with warmth and energy beneath her bare legs. The sun shining brightly overhead lulled her into a meditative state as she allowed herself to relax and enjoy the breeze whispering across her face beneath the too big straw hat Cole had plunked down on her head. Better an oversized hat than a sunburn, he’d pointed out, and she didn’t argue.

She hadn’t put up much of an argument about anything. Once he started talking, with persuasive if faulty logic, she’d been sucked into his plans for the day. Deep down, she hadn’t wanted to protest. She hadn’t been on a horse since they’d broken up six months before, and she missed riding. But not nearly as much as she’d missed the man. Agreeing to his
just friends
proposal was asking for trouble, yet she hadn’t been able to say no.

Pushing the thought into the back corner of her mind to mull over later, she straightened and kicked Beauty into a trot when the horse slowed.

“Where’re we headed?”

“Comanche Creek runs through that dip to the west. We can stop there if you like.”

“Sounds good to me.” She stroked the mare’s velvety neck. “Who does this girl belong to?”

He shifted in the saddle, repositioning his grip on Jackson. “One of my neighbors. They’re in Spain for a couple of weeks.”

“Wow, everyone is on vacation. It would be fun to go somewhere exotic.” She gave a little shrug. “But I can’t leave the daycare for more than a long weekend. With Jenna expecting her baby next month, I’ll be really short-handed.”

“Is Jenna coming back full-time afterward?”

“Probably not.”

“Did you hire someone to replace Amy Jo after she moved to Dallas?”

When his eyes flashed with concern, she hesitated before answering. “No.”

“Good God, Miranda, you can’t run that place alone.”

“I wasn’t planning to—”

He overrode her protest. “You may think you’re Wonder Woman, but—”

Her back stiffened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.”

“It meant something.”

He let out a breath. “You’re so damn efficient. You never need anyone to help you. It gives me an inferiority complex.”

Her throat squeezed tight, and tears smarted. She couldn’t answer, not without revealing how much his words hurt.

“I worry about you, never cutting yourself any slack. Put a help wanted ad in the paper and hire someone, for heaven’s sake. And another thing…”

The tirade continued as if he hadn’t just shoved a dagger into her heart.

Am I really that self-righteous?

When he finally wound down with a few closing arguments, she gathered her composure and nodded. “I’ll hire someone. I intended to, but haven’t gotten around to interviewing applicants yet.”

He gave her a sharp look. “Then why did you let me go on and on about it? You should have said something.”

“Stopping you when you’re all worked up is about as easy as restraining a charging bull.”

A grin quirked the corners of his lips. “Point taken. Almost there.”

“Huh?”

With one arm wrapped around Jackson, he pointed with the other. “The creek is just up ahead.”

Chokecherries lined the slopes leading to the slow moving stream as it lazed between low banks. Dismounting, she handed the reins to him and took Jackson while Cole loosely tied the horses near a patch of fresh spring grass. After unfastening the picnic basket and an old quilt he’d strapped behind his saddle, he led the way down to a flat patch of grass near the creek.

“The trick will be keeping Jackson out of the water.” She plopped him down on his padded butt then sat on a nearby, sun-warmed rock.

“He’ll dry if he gets wet.”

“True.” Closing her eyes, she lifted her face to the breeze and pressed her lips together.

The lid of the picnic basket creaked open, and paper rustled against plastic. She pictured Cole’s strong hands pulling out plates and sandwiches to place on the quilt. At their backs, the wind rustled the leaves of the chokecherry bushes, while near her left elbow, Jackson sucked noisily from his sippy cup.

“No, boy, you can’t eat rocks.”

Don’t look. Let him handle it.
She would show Cole she wasn’t always a control freak.

“Is something wrong?”

“Why would anything be wrong?”

“I don’t know. You’re usually not this quiet. Lunch is ready.”

She opened her eyes to find Jackson eating crackers, getting crumbs everywhere. Sandwiches, apples, grapes, chips and cookies sat in a heap on the quilt. And next to the paper plate in front of her lay a single, perfect rose. Her throat tightened as she gazed into warm, brown eyes.

“Thanks for all your help, Miranda. You saved me.”

With difficulty, she croaked, “You’re welcome.”

Picking up a ham and cheddar on rye, he pulled it from the plastic baggie, took a bite and chewed, his gaze never leaving her face. “So, what have you been doing besides working?”

She shrugged one shoulder, retrieved an apple that had rolled to the edge of the blanket and polished it on her shirt. “Not much. My social life isn’t anything to jump up and down about.”

He crunched chips and eyed her closely. “No new man in your life?”

Her cheeks grew warm. “Not your business, Cole.”

“Nope. It isn’t, but I thought I’d ask anyway.” Reaching out one long arm, he rescued a caterpillar crawling toward Jackson and set it in the grass. “I’ve seen four different women since we broke up, and none of them made it past the third date. One little spitfire told me I shouldn’t have asked her out if I was still hung up on my ex.”

Miranda choked on the apple and gasped for air, then stared at him through watering eyes. “How did she know—”

“Your name may have come up in passing a few too many times.”

“This is your idea of a
friendly
outing to catch up? No pressure?”