Asking for Trouble (8 page)

Turning with a hand on the screen door, Cole faced Miranda. “Did I say anything about a date?”

“No, but—”

“It’s six o’clock. Aren’t you hungry?”

“Yes, but—”

“So, we’ll have a meal. By the time you go to the store, drive home and cook, it’ll be late. Seems kind of pointless when I have two T-bones in the refrigerator.”

Her shoulders sagged. “Fine.”

Guilt ate at him as he headed through the house and out to the back yard where the barbeque sat beside a glass topped table and a pair of wrought iron chairs with faded red, corduroy cushions. The evening breeze still held the day’s warmth. Eating outside with the smell of honeysuckle in the air from the tangled patch climbing the side of the cabin might put Miranda at ease. She was strung tighter than a bale of alfalfa, and he knew he was to blame. The last thing he wanted was to hurt her again, and he wasn’t sure exactly what he hoped to accomplish with his current persistence.

Shaking briquettes into the barbeque, he squirted on lighter fluid and frowned. Maybe he was lying to himself. He wanted Miranda in his life. Period. Missing her was a constant ache in his heart, one that wouldn’t go away despite his best efforts to move on. There had to be a way to work things out between them. When he struck a match and tossed it on the grill, the briquettes lit with an explosion of flame.

“You’re lucky you didn’t lose your eyebrows.”

He turned and smiled. “I may have gotten carried away with the lighter fluid.”

With her long, auburn hair flowing over the shoulder of a blue cotton shirt the exact color of her eyes, Miranda took his breath away. His fingers itched to stroke her soft cheek, to glide along her collarbone then downward to the rounded tops of her breasts. Wincing when his jeans tightened painfully, he shifted position and hoped she wouldn’t notice.

“I threw a couple of potatoes in the oven to bake and gave Jackson a handful of crackers to keep him happy until dinner’s ready.”

“Thanks.” He closed his eyes and winced. “Crap, I left him on the front porch.”

“You were distracted.”

“I appreciate the fact you aren’t yelling at me, though I know I deserve it.” He dropped onto one of the chairs and patted the cushion of the other. “Sit. Relax.”

She hesitated, eyeing the open back door. “Jackson’s in his highchair, but…”

He bounced up like an uncoiled spring. “I’ll bring him out.” Brushing by her, he paused to touch a silky strand of hair before entering the kitchen where he plucked his nephew out of the highchair. When the baby squawked, he handed over the remaining crackers and scowled. “Not a peep out of you. Got it? I’d like to have a nice, relaxing evening with Miranda.”

“Ran. Ran.”

“That’s right, Ran.” Reaching into the refrigerator, he pulled out two beers, then paused by the door to flip on the flood lights to battle the encroaching darkness. “Come along, Tucker. You can earn your dog chow by entertaining the boy.”

With a moan, the ridgeback surged to his feet and followed. Cole grunted in satisfaction. At least someone listened to him, even if that someone had four legs and a tail. With his hands full, he headed outside, set the bottles on the table, then lowered Jackson to the patio’s brick floor.

“So, how was your day?”

Miranda turned away from the sun sinking below the horizon in a burst of gold and crimson, and regarded him with a sober expression. Taking the beer he offered, she nodded her thanks. “Pretty typical. One skinned knee, two leaking diapers, and twelve finger-painted masterpieces. And I did call the local paper about placing an ad for a new employee.”

“That’s good.” He took a swallow of beer and eyed her steadily. “What’s bugging you, then, besides the fact I left you stranded with Jackson?”

“I was a little pissed, but I’m over it. What I’m not over is this.” She spread her arms wide. “You and me, hanging out like an old married couple discussing our day.” She placed her beer on the table then pressed a hand to her breasts. “It isn’t helping, Cole. It’s making me want something I can’t have.”

He reared back. “I want it, too.”

“No, you only want
part
of it.” She pointed at Jackson who’d crawled into the grass to sit near Tucker. The boy threw dandelions into the air and giggled when they showered down on the dog. Miranda’s eyes clouded. “I want it all.”

“Maybe…”

“No maybe.” Swinging around, she crossed the patio. “I’ll go make a salad, and we won’t talk about this again.”

Cole stared after her departing back, and to his amazement, tears burned his eyes. He loved Miranda with an intensity that shook him to his soul. But was it enough to forgo his freedom?

Chapter Seven

“Maybe you should call Gabe back. A date with a handsome man isn’t exactly the worst idea you’ve ever had.”

Jenna turned with a hand pressed to her lower back. At her feet, two little boys played tug-o-war with a Superman doll, their screams rising in volume. After dropping a Spiderman figure into the fray, her harassed expression brightened. “Really?”

Miranda nodded. “I have to do
something
.” She held tight to Jackson’s hands while he toddled across the room on unsteady legs. “Cole is going to break my heart into pieces—again—if I don’t.”

“Unka, Unka.”

She grimaced and gently lowered Jackson to the carpet. He crawled away to join the boys still fighting over the superheroes. With a practiced eye, she assessed the trio, determined they weren’t quite ready to clobber each other, and walked away. Jenna followed.

“What happened last night?”

“Nothing. I delivered Cole’s nephew to him and then, like a fool, let him convince me to stay for dinner.” She rubbed the back of her neck, hoping to stop the tension headache before it took hold. “It’s just hard, seeing everything I ever wanted so close—and yet unattainable. I need a new focus, and an evening spent trying to pry complete sentences out of Gabe Tyler will demand my full attention.”

“That’s good news, especially since it’s already a done deal.”

Miranda frowned as guilt flashed through her friend’s eyes. “Huh?”

“When Gabe returned my call, I didn’t want to disappoint him, so I set up the date.”

“Even though I told you not to?”

Jenna’s smile would have dazzled a less jaded recipient. “Well, turns out it’s a good thing. You’d have seemed a little schizophrenic, changing your mind back and forth.”

“And you planned to inform me when?”

“As soon as I worked up the courage. I told Gabe you’d meet him at the Rusty Nail for drinks tomorrow night at six-thirty. Anything else is up to you.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Her friend ignored the sarcasm. “You bet. Maybe I should quit my job here and start a matchmaking service.”

“Or run for political office. They never listen to the people they work for, either.”

A snort of laughter shook her protruding belly. Clasping her sides, she moaned. “That hurt. And speaking of employee relationships, how’d the interview go?”

“Very well. If Stephanie Miller’s background check passes, I’ll probably hire her. Then you can cut back on your hours before you bring on early labor.”

“I wouldn’t argue with that. Anyway, she has patient eyes. In this business, that’s important.”

“You’ve got that right.” Behind her, a shriek of outrage pierced the air. As Miranda sprinted toward the culprit who clutched a pair of plastic, blunt nosed scissors like a dagger, she wondered if Cole didn’t have the right idea. There was something to be said for a life without children.

****

Ruggedly handsome was the term that sprang to mind when she gazed into Gabe Tyler’s deep blue eyes—or tried to. The single dimple stirred appreciation, but not the lust Miranda had been hoping for. Maybe if she could get the man to pry open his lips and talk that would change.

“Is this a busy time on your ranch?”

“Yep, but most times are.” He swirled his scotch on the rocks and stared down at the condensation rings on the round table where they sat in a corner of the Rusty Nail Saloon.

She held back a pent up sigh of frustration. “With what, exactly?”

His gaze met hers briefly before skittering away. “I don’t want to bore you with the details of calf vaccinations.”

“Please, bore me. Uh, I mean, I’m interested, really.”

His stiffly held shoulders relaxed, and a real smile appeared. “No, you’re not.”

“So, I lied.” She returned his grin, and the tension between them dissolved. “Do you want to hear about the little monster who tried to scalp his playmate with plastic scissors yesterday? Or maybe the leaking diaper that—”

“Stop. Stop.” He held up his hands and chuckled.

The sound had a rusty edge to it, but sent a spurt of warmth through her all the same. “Okay, no gruesome work details. How about movies, seen any good ones lately?”

He planted an elbow on the table and leaned toward her. “I’m pretty certain I haven’t been to the movies during this century. Not a top priority.”

Inching back, she sipped her chardonnay. “Books. Do you read?”

“They don’t write them like Louis L’Amour used to.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You must do something for fun.”

His cheeks took on a pink hue. “I paint flowers. I suck at it, but it relaxes me.”

Finally, a topic of mutual interest.
“I grow flowers, and I draw birds. There’s always a bunch of them clustered around my feeder.”

“Yeah?” His eyes brightened. “I’ve been thinking of expanding my subject matter. The way I see it, anything else could only be an improvement.”

“Maybe you’d like to stop by my house some time with your art supplies. We could paint together.”

Why in the heck did I say that?
Talk about putting the man on the spot.

He reached over and covered her hand where it lay on the table. “I’d like that.”

Her fingers twitched beneath his. He hadn’t turned her down, and she wasn’t sure if she was glad or sorry. On a positive note, the date wasn’t going as badly as she’d feared. If she’d hated every minute of it, walking away would have been an easy decision. Mentally, she gave herself a sharp poke. Running from a handsome, eligible man wasn’t the goal here. Getting her mind off Cole was.

Squaring her shoulders, she turned her hand over and squeezed his fingers. “What do you think, should we order another round?”

“Sure, why not.”

****

“Both of you, leave. Have a drink. Relax.” Honey Paladin bounced Jackson on her hip and smiled. “Watching this little angel will be a pleasure.”

Cole eyed his friend’s wife with a lifted brow. “I don’t know that anyone except his mother has ever called Jackson an angel. Did the chicken pox addle your brain?”

A wide grin stretched Chase’s lips as he draped an arm around his wife’s shoulders and squeezed. “Nope, but getting the all clear from the doctor to rejoin society sure has put her in a terrific mood.”

“I’ve been going stir crazy.” Honey scrunched her freckled nose. “Now I know what a criminal feels like on release day.”

“Which is why Chase should be going out with you instead of me.”

“I may not be contagious, but I’m still all scabby and gross. Since the worst of it should be cleared up by the weekend, we have plans for an evening out then.”

Cole studied her clear green eyes that held not a hint of resentment. “You’re sure?”

“Positive. You’ve been babysitting for five days now. I imagine a night out with an adult, even if it is just Chase, will be a welcome change.”

“Thanks, Honey.” He dropped a peck on her cheek. “Your husband is a lucky guy.”

“Darn right.” Her eyes glowed with warmth as they rested on Chase. “I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”

The two men left Honey and Jackson on the wide front porch and strolled across the yard to Cole’s truck parked next to the corral fence. As they passed, Chase’s big, black bull pawed the ground and snorted.

He reached out a long arm and slapped the animal’s rump. “Don’t look so pissed, Muffin. Breeding season is right around the corner.”

Opening the pickup door, Cole glanced at his friend across the hood. “Speaking of breeding—”

“We’ve only been married a month, for Christ’s sake. Give a man a chance to enjoy his honeymoon.”

After Chase climbed in, Cole started the engine. “I was going to congratulate you on being smart enough not to jump on the baby bandwagon. Your sister looks ready to pop any day.”

“Jenna’s due in a couple of weeks.” After resettling the hat on his head, Chase lounged back in the seat. “Honey and I want kids, but not for another year or two.” He flashed a smile. “How’s it been, watching your nephew?”

“God awful in the beginning. Highlights include a trip to the emergency room after the kid took a header down the porch steps.” He shrugged. “The last couple of days have been a little better. No catastrophes. Last night we watched a movie together, and I kind of enjoyed the company. I just hope the violence and swearing in it won’t scar him for life.”

“Doubtful when he isn’t even a year old yet.”

“That’s a relief.” His grip tightened on the steering wheel as they bounced down the long, rutted drive leading to the main road. “Miranda’s helped me out a few times.”

“I thought you two split up last fall.”

“We did, but we’re still friends. Sort of.” Chase snorted at that, reminding Cole of the damn bull. Shooting him a quick glance, he frowned. “What in the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means, you’re asking for trouble. People with the kind of chemistry you and Miranda had together aren’t going to do well as friends. Someone’s going to get hurt.”

He scowled and squinted through the windshield into the setting sun. “That’s what she said.”

“Miranda’s a smart woman.” Reaching across the center console, Chase gave his shoulder a friendly smack. “For tonight, anyway, you can drink a beer and forget about women. Maybe I’ll kick your ass at darts, just to give you something else to think about.”

“In your dreams. A girl could beat you at darts.” He rolled up to the curb in front of the Rusty Nail and shut off the engine. “How about you put your money where your mouth is?”