Asking for Trouble (3 page)

He stepped up behind her when she stopped beside the crib and rested one hand on her shoulder. The warmth of his fingers seeped through the fabric of her cotton shirt, branding her. A quiver worked its way down her spine as he chuckled softly.

“Name calling doesn’t bother me one bit. I’ll be the first to admit I’m a complete and utter failure at child care.”

She glanced back at him. “You don’t have to be, Cole. Maybe you could use this time to change that.”

“I’m willing to learn a few survival skills—if you’ll teach me.”

Her heart thumped so hard surely Jackson could feel it. But she would not get sucked in by Cole’s smooth lines and winning smiles. Not again.

Taking a deep breath, she let it out slowly. “Start by lowering the side of the crib.” Her tone was all business. “Generally, you want to do that before you pick up the baby.”

“It lowers?”

“Of course it lowers. See those latches?”

“Got it.” Releasing the fasteners, he slid the side rail down.

Stepping closer, Miranda eased Jackson onto the mattress. His face crinkled up for a moment then smoothed into peaceful slumber. After covering him with a light blanket, she stroked his back.

“What a sweetie.” Lifting the side of the crib, she waited for the distinct click. “Did you hear that?”

Cole nodded.

“Make sure it locks. You don’t want it sliding down. Jackson could climb right out—or roll onto the floor.”

His hand hovered over the light switch. “Do we turn them off?”

“Maybe leave a nightlight burning so you can see if you have to come in during the night.”

His eyes widened and lips twisted in an expression of sheer horror. “You mean he might wake up?”

She couldn’t suppress a smile. “There is that possibility. Some babies wake up after a few hours. Generally, if you stroke their backs and talk quietly or sing, they’ll go back to sleep.”

“Sing!”

When Jackson stirred in his bed, she scowled at Cole and lowered her voice another notch. “Yes, sing. Lullabies. Ever heard one?”

“Probably not since I was his age.” He hitched his chin toward the crib, and then sighed. “I don’t have a nightlight.”

“I’m sure Andee included one in his stuff. You can find it tomorrow.” Crossing the room to the full-size bed, she flipped the switch on the table lamp. “For tonight, we’ll leave this on.” Passing him on the way out of the room, she turned off the overhead light. “Mission accomplished. Crisis averted.”

He followed her back to the main room, glanced around and shuddered. “I don’t even know where to start.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, she narrowed her eyes. “Is that a ploy to keep me here longer just in case he wakes up?”

His head jerked up. “You aren’t leaving, are you?”

“I’m certainly not spending the night.”

“Why not?”

Her mouth opened, and she gaped like a hooked fish. “What do you mean, why not?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time.” His tone was husky, his eyes smoldering. “And it doesn’t have to be the last.”

Her face heated. Clenching her jaw until her teeth ached, she marched away from temptation.

“I’m sorry!” Leaping over a box of stuffed animals, he threw himself against the door. “Please don’t go, at least until after we get this mess cleaned up.”

“Will you stop making comments like that?”

“If you insist.” His smile was cautious. “It’s just so good to see you, Miranda. I’ve missed you.”

She rubbed the back of her neck, trying to ease the tension. Staying was just asking for trouble. But he looked so pathetic and out of his element… “I’ll help you clean up and then go.”

“Thank you. I owe you—big time.”

She bent to pick up a bear with a ripped ear and dropped it into a box of stuffed animals. “Yes you do. Go get a broom and dust pan for the broken glass. I’ll take these toys into the guest room since I’m pretty sure you’ll wake up the baby if you do it.”

“I probably would. My mom used to say I sounded like a herd of wildebeests coming down the stairs in the morning.” Whistling a cheerful tune, he headed toward the kitchen.

Despite her bitchy attitude, he was all smiles and sweetness.
Damn him.
Keeping the wall up around her heart was taking twice the effort she’d expected. Lifting a box of children’s books, she carried it into Jackson’s room and set it next to the bed. The faster she finished cleaning up the mess in the living room, the less time she’d be exposed to Cole’s brand of insidious persuasion. After tiptoeing past the crib, she raced back for the next box.

In less than fifteen minutes, she had the clothes and toys stored in the guest room, the highchair situated next to the kitchen table and was hard at work scrubbing the food off the couch. She glanced up when Cole screwed a new light bulb into the lamp and snapped it on.

“Too bad the coffee table won’t be so easy to fix. Did Jackson do that?”

With an answering nod, he ran a finger along the gouge in the wood. “I suppose I can sand it.” His face lost some of its color, and he dropped onto the couch next to the wet patch. “I keep thinking about what he could have done with that hoof pick if I hadn’t taken it away when I did.”

“Don’t.” The word echoed in the stillness of the room. She softened her tone. “It’ll only make you crazy, and nothing irreparable happened.”

He slumped against the cushions. “I should have told Davis no. Not for my sake, but for Jackson’s.” He turned a thoughtful gaze in her direction. “Maybe you could take him. He loves you. More importantly, he
responds
to you. Must be because you both have red hair.”

Her hand stilled before she carefully folded the wet rag. “Or it could just be the fact that he recognizes a dependable adult.” She hesitated and then shook her head. “I could watch him for you, but I won’t. And don’t try to make me feel guilty about it because it isn’t going to work.”

His lips pressed together in a grim line. “I don’t suppose you have any reason to do me a favor.”

“No. I don’t, but that isn’t why I’m turning you down. Caring for Jackson will be good for you.”

He snorted. “Diaper changing isn’t a skill I’m going to need in the future. I don’t intend to have kids. And no offense, but I’d rather shovel horse shit for a living than set up a babysitting service.”

A pulse throbbed painfully at her temples. “I haven’t forgotten. What was your charming comment on the subject?” She snapped her fingers. “That’s right. You said having kids was like wearing neckties. With little effort, they could choke the life out of a man.”

“I said that?”

She dropped the wet, gooey rag on the coffee table, not caring if it took the finish off the damn thing. After shrugging on her jacket, she turned to face him. “You did.”

“Wow, I didn’t know I was so poetic.”

She pivoted on her heel and marched toward the door. Feet thumped behind her, and hands clamped down on her shoulders.

“I was joking.”

“Not funny.”

“Maybe not.” He pulled her back against his chest, his grip tightening when she struggled to get loose. “With you, I’m not afraid to be myself and say whatever pops into my head. Maybe that’s why you walked away, but I found it relaxing, never pretending to be something I’m not.”

For a moment, she leaned against him. “That sounds like such a compliment.”

“It is.”

“But it doesn’t change the facts. We want different things out of life. Our relationship would have had to end at some point. I figured sooner was better than later.”

“I was willing to talk about long term. I’ve got nothing against marriage, and we were so good together.” His sigh stirred her hair. “You’re the one who bolted, so why did I end up feeling like the bad guy.”

She turned to face him. Six months ago, neither one of them had been willing to expose their emotions. Maybe a few things needed to be said. Maybe hearing the words spoken aloud would excise the old feelings that continued to plague her. The same ones she feared caused her to sabotage new relationships. If she didn’t stop comparing every man she met to Cole…

“I loved you, you know.”

His words knocked the breath out of her. Tears burned behind her eyelids, and she blinked to keep them from falling. “I loved you, too. It’s why I ended things when I did.” She pressed her hand to her chest. “Do you know how much it hurt to walk away?”

“You didn’t have to.” Stepping forward, he brushed her cheek with his thumb.

She backed away on trembling legs, knowing all those emotions she’d fought so hard to control were bubbling to the surface, ready to spill over. “You don’t want a family. I do.”

“Having a family doesn’t need to be about kids.” The smile on his lips didn’t quite reach his eyes. “We could get a puppy or two, or maybe one of those cute little pot-bellied pigs if you want something to baby.”

She sighed. “You’re all about having fun, being impulsive, letting nothing tie you down. And there isn’t anything wrong with that. But I need an actual grown-up for a life partner, not a guy who never outgrew boyhood.”

His eyes flashed with a hint of anger. “Hey, I have responsibilities. When someone orders a bear or a moose or a freaking dinosaur, I deliver the finished product on schedule.”

“But you accept only enough work to survive on, leaving yourself plenty of free time to play.” When he opened his mouth, she held up her hand. “More power to you. Your life is a good one. For you. But I want more than having the man I love drop a distracted kiss on my forehead before he takes off on a two week backpacking trip.” She drew in a breath and let it out slowly. “That would be fine once in a while, but you’re gone as often as you’re home. Babies weren’t our only sticking point, Cole.”

In the silence that followed her words, a scratch on the door grated down her spine like nails on a chalk board. Turning, she opened it and stepped back to let Tucker inside. His toenails clicked against the hardwood floor.

“I’m going now.”

He nodded, defeat dimming those compelling eyes. “Thanks for coming over.”

“You’re welcome. I guess I’ll see you on Monday when you drop Jackson off at the daycare.”

“Sure.”

Crossing the porch, she tilted her face up to the cool night breeze. But it couldn’t dry the tears sliding down her cheeks.

Chapter Three

Blood seeped from the cut on Jackson’s head and soaked his red curls. Cole pressed the dish cloth tighter to the wound and hushed the screaming baby, not an easy job when the sight of all that blood set his stomach rolling. Swallowing against the urge to puke, he pulled a fresh towel from the drawer and tied it in place with a length of twine. Holding tight to the squirming baby, he snatched up his keys and the packet of papers Andee had left for him and ran out of the house.

Thank God he’d fastened the car seat into place earlier. Before the entire day had gone to hell in a handbasket.

After strapping his nephew into the seat, he climbed in and gunned the engine, sending up a spray of gravel in the truck’s wake. Steering with one hand, he pulled his cell phone from his pocket, pressed a button and prayed. Miranda hadn’t picked up the last two times he’d called, and he hadn’t bothered leaving a message. Maybe the third time would be a charm.

“Cole?”

The breathless voice was prettier than birdsong.

“I need help.”

“It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours, and I’m covered in dirt from working in the garden. You’re pushing the limits of my patience.”

“Jackson fell. I’m headed for the hospital, but that’s a forty-five minute drive.” He drew in a breath and forced the panic from his voice. “If the pad on the cut soaks through with blood, I can’t change it while I’m driving.”

There was a moment’s silence before she spoke. “Come get me.”

Her calm tone soothed his stretched nerves. The tires screeched as he made a sharp right turn onto Main Street, ignoring the stop sign. “I’ll be there in less than two minutes.”

“Did you call 911?”

“I figured I could get him to the hospital before an ambulance reached my place.”

“I’ll call now to alert them we’re on the way. Where’s he bleeding?”

“His head.”

Her breath caught. “Hang up and drive.”

He dropped the phone onto the seat next to him and made a hard left into Miranda’s neighborhood. Swerving to avoid a cocker spaniel, he lowered his speed a notch. His head throbbed with Jackson’s persistent screaming, but at least the kid hadn’t lost consciousness.

And the day had been going so well, too. They’d read two stories then played with trains on the porch, all with no crying or commotion.

Wearing dirt stained shorts and a grim expression, his angel of mercy stood at the end of her driveway. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, and she clutched a white box with a big red cross on it to her chest. Leave it to Miranda to come prepared, even at a moment’s notice. When he slowed the truck, she jerked open the door and jumped inside. Making a quick, three-point-turn, he headed toward the highway.

“He’s been crying non-stop. Is that good or bad?”

She climbed over the seatback into the small compartment in the rear where Jackson bellowed his misery. Cole gave her upended behind one quick glance before focusing his attention on the road. As long as they didn’t get stopped by a cop, he’d have them to the hospital in Amarillo in record time.

“Definitely good. The cut probably isn’t as bad as it looks. Head wounds tend to bleed a lot.” Her no nonsense tone softened. “Poor baby, does it hurt? We’ll have you fixed up in no time. Then I may have to whack your uncle over the head so he can find out how it feels. Isn’t that a good idea? I think so. Yes I do. That’s it, sweetie, no more crying. Let me get this poor excuse for a bandage off you and put on a real one.”

Cole grinned as the wailing quieted to soft sobs. Miranda could probably sooth an angry grizzly into behaving like a Teddy bear.

“Is he going to be okay?”

“Looks like he’ll need a couple of stitches, but the gash isn’t as deep as I feared. He’s bled quite a bit, but it seems to be stopping.” She let out a long sigh. “A dishcloth and twine, seriously, Cole?”