Asking for Trouble (9 page)

“I’ll bet you a beer.”

The truck doors slammed, and their boot heels clicked against the sidewalk. When Cole pulled open the heavy wooden door, the sharp smack of pool balls and drone of male voices drifted out along with the yeasty odor of domestic brew on tap.

He took three steps forward and halted. “Damn.”

“What?” Chase stepped up beside him and grinned. “Hell must have frozen over because I could swear that’s my buddy Gabe out with a woman. I wonder who…oh.”

Pushing aside long, auburn curls, Miranda turned. When her gaze locked with Cole’s, her eyes widened. The hand holding a wineglass stopped midway to her lips.

“Now, that’s interesting. Awkward, but interesting. Shall we go say hello or pretend they’re not there. Your call.”

Cole grunted, wishing his old friend would shut up. What he really wanted to do was punch Gabe Tyler in his smug face. His fingers tingled as he flexed them. It had been quite a few years since he’d last been involved in a bar fight—even more since he’d started one.

Despite the red haze shimmering on the edge on his vision, he wasn’t a hot-headed idiot any longer. More important, who Miranda chose to date wasn’t his business. Even if he wished it was.

“Sure, we’ll say hello.”

Leading the way, he crunched through the peanut shells littering the floor and stopped beside the woman who consumed most of his waking thoughts. His hand dropped onto the back of the chair, brushing her shoulder. When she flinched, his lips tightened.

“Evening, Miranda, Gabe. Haven’t seen you around town lately.”

“The ranch keeps me busy. Chase knows how it is.”

The man’s blue eyes studied him with more than a hint of speculation.

Miranda cleared her throat. “Um, I hate to ask, but where’s Jackson?”

Anger simmered to a low boil at her worried expression. Did she think he’d locked the kid in a closet? “Tucker’s keeping an eye on him.”

When she gasped, Chase nudged him with an elbow and frowned. “Honey’s watching him. The doctor said she isn’t contagious anymore.”

The breath left her in a whoosh. “That’s great news. Please tell your wife I said hello.” She twisted the stem of the wineglass between her fingers as her chin lowered. “Uh, enjoy your night out, gentlemen. We were just talking about leaving.”

Gabe’s brows shot up, but he downed the last swallow of his drink and pushed back his chair. “I’ll go pay our tab. Good to see you, Chase.” With a nod in Cole’s direction, he headed to the bar.

Chase glanced from Miranda’s bent head to Cole and back. “I think I’ll go see if the dart board is free. Nice talking to you, Miranda.”

Cole dropped into the chair Gabe had vacated and waited. It was several long moments before her blue-eyed gaze rose to meet his. Defiance sparkled.

Her fingers gripped the edge of the table. “The way you looked at him, I’m surprised Gabe didn’t incinerate on the spot.”

He gritted his teeth. “What’re you doing with the guy? He isn’t your type.”

“How do you know?”

“Because
I’m
your type.” He stabbed his chest with a pointed finger. “And since we’re nothing alike…”

“Maybe I’m looking for a new type. Dating guys like you hasn’t led to anywhere but heartache.”

Leaning one elbow on the table, he forced down his anger. “What are we doing, Miranda? I don’t think I’m the only miserable one here.”

“We’re moving on with our lives.” Tears clouded her eyes. She looked away and blinked. “It’s the only thing we can do.”

With a quick reach across the table, he grasped her hand and held on. “Seeing you sitting here with him was like a punch to the gut. I don’t want to move on. I want what we had back.” A glance toward the bar told him his time was running out as Gabe pocketed some change. His grip tightened. “Lose the cowboy and spend the rest of the evening with me.”

She shook her head once. Then shook it again. “No. I can’t do that.”

“Can’t, or won’t?”

“Does it matter?”

“It matters. Everything you think and feel matters to me. It matters that I’m the one who makes you smile, sometimes in exasperation, but still…” His voice lowered. “It matters that I’m the one who makes your cheeks flush and your eyes go soft with need.”

She jerked her hand away and stood. “Stop,” she hissed. “Just stop.” Her breasts rose and fell beneath the soft sweater clinging to them. “If you care about me at all, you’ll back off.” Her voice broke. “Don’t make this any harder.”

Striding across the shell-littered floor, she met Gabe halfway and tucked her hand through his arm. Then, without a backward glance, the door shut behind them with a solid thud.

Cole flopped back in the seat, closed his eyes and swore.

Chapter Eight

By Friday afternoon, Cole’s temper was at a slow burn and climbing. The day before, he’d grabbed Jackson at pick-up time and rushed off to meet a client about a new project. Mornings, Miranda pushed him out of the room, refusing to give him two seconds of her time. Slamming the truck door, he strolled toward the daycare, late on purpose. With no one around but the two of them, she wouldn’t have a choice but to talk to him. Jenna had driven by in her big convertible moments before, and the parking area was nearly empty.

He nodded to a pair of women leading toddlers by the hand when he passed them on the walkway, then stepped out of the late afternoon sunlight into the dim interior of the daycare. As his eyes adjusted, his attention zeroed in on Miranda bent at the waist to toss stuffed animals into an open bin. At the sight of her softly rounded ass, his pulse raced.

“Cole, oh my goodness, it is you.”

His head whipped around. A petite blonde stared at him, and his insides quivered with trepidation.

“I certainly never expected to see you here.” Her sweet tone took on an edge. “I thought you were going to call me.”

His gaze flew to Miranda, who regarded him with a hint of disappointment, before he reluctantly faced Stephanie Miller. “Uh, I meant to call, but you know how it is around the holidays…” He cleared his throat. “How’ve you been?”

“Fine.” The word cracked like the sharp snap of a stick as she pointed at Jackson. “Is he yours?”

“My nephew. I’m watching him for a few days.”

Miranda dropped the lid of the toy bin with a thump. “You can go now, Stephanie. Sounds like you and Cole need to catch up on…old times. We’re almost finished here, anyway.”

“I wouldn’t dream of leaving early, not on my very first day.” Her hazel eyes narrowed. “Besides, I’m pretty certain Cole and I don’t have a whole lot to say to each other after three months without a single word.”

His heart pounded as both women regarded him with varying degrees of disdain. Pulling his scattered thoughts together, he searched for something to say. “You work here now?”

“Miranda hired me yesterday. I wasn’t getting enough hours as a substitute teacher at the grade school.”

“Oh.”

When Jackson crawled across the floor and held out his arms, Cole scooped him up and wished they could both disappear. If the firm line of Miranda’s lips was any indication, she wasn’t going to be in the mood to explain why she’d been having drinks with Gabe Tyler on Wednesday night.

“Uh, I was hoping we could talk, Miranda, but maybe now isn’t such a great time.”

His only answer was an eye roll before she picked up a rag, and with quick, hard strokes, wiped down a paint-spattered easel. After giving Stephanie a grimace he hoped would pass for a smile, Cole grabbed the diaper bag sitting by the door and backed out of the room. Then nearly ran to his truck. Of all the women Miranda could have hired, she had to pick someone he’d dated during their off period? Karma must be having one heck of a laugh at his expense.

“Son of a bitch.” He buckled Jackson into the car seat then slammed the door. The baby let out a whimper as he slid into the driver’s seat. He glanced into the rearview mirror. “Sorry, boy. We’ll go to the park. Sound good?”

Five minutes later, he was pushing his nephew in a swing. The boy shrieked his approval, and Cole couldn’t help but smile. When his cell phone chirped, he answered.

“Hey, Andee, how’s life in Paradise? What? Oh, everything’s just fine. We’re at the park. Do you want to talk to him?” He held the phone to the baby’s ear.

Jackson babbled happily.

Something bordering on contentment filled Cole as he said goodbye, pocketed the phone and lifted his nephew from the swing. After setting him in the sand box, he dropped onto a nearby bench and squinted into the sun filtering through the leaves of an oak tree. Only three more days to go. Shouldn’t he be beyond thrilled at the prospect of handing over his charge? Surely the ache in his chest was because he’d no longer have an excuse to see Miranda on a daily basis, not for any other reason.

Cole picked at a dead leaf stuck to the bench. Miranda might not want to listen, but there were things he needed to say. She’d be home by now, probably thinking about what to have for dinner. He pictured her standing in front of the open refrigerator, the yellow shirt she’d been wearing earlier clinging to her breasts as she reached for a container of leftovers. If he were around, there would never be any leftovers. There probably wouldn’t be a shirt, either. He’d pull it over her head and let it drift to the floor, then back her up against the counter and—

A sharp cry shattered the fantasy. Tears streamed down Jackson’s cheeks as he rubbed one eye with his fist. Cole leaped up and ran over to him.

“No, don’t rub it. You’ve probably got sand in there.”

Holding Jackson in one arm, he hurried to the water fountain and twisted the knob. When the water shot up, he stuck his nephew’s face under the flow. The boy gurgled and spluttered. When he pulled him out, Jackson opened his eyes and laughed.

Pressure built in his chest and rolled out in a chuckle. “Aren’t you something?” Using the hem of his shirt, he wiped his nephew’s face dry. “All better?”

Carrying him on one hip, Cole headed toward the truck. Instinct urged him to race over to Miranda’s house this very minute and have his say, but common sense intervened. There was no point in confronting her when she was more than likely pissed. God only knew what Stephanie had said about him. He’d give her a chance to mellow a little first. But, he’d speak his piece tomorrow, and nothing short of a major disaster was going to stop him.

****

Miranda dabbed a bit more green onto the wing of the hummingbird she was painting and snuck a peek at Gabe in the chair next to hers. His forehead scrunched in a scowl, and the tip of his tongue was clamped between his teeth. When Jezebel wound between her ankles, she stuck her brush into the cup of water and scooped the cat onto her lap.

“I don’t know about you, but I think I’ve had enough painting for one afternoon.”

“If I could just get the tail feathers to co-operate…there.” He glanced up and smiled. “Let’s quit. I’m pretty sure more paint isn’t going to improve the picture.”

She tilted her head. “Your bird is a tad lopsided, but still much better than mine. I think your standards are just too high.”

One broad shoulder lifted. “Not the first time I’ve been told that by a woman.”

A snort of laughter escaped her. “I bet she wasn’t talking about art.”

He grinned. “Maybe not.”

After dumping the cat onto the deck, Miranda cleaned up her paints and returned them to the container. Gabe latched the box then gazed across the lawn at a pair of chickadees on the edge of the birdbath.

She cleared her throat. “I had fun today.”

After a long moment, he turned to face her. “I did, too, but this isn’t going to work. We both know it.”

Tears smarted behind her eyes, and she glanced away.
What is wrong with me?
Dumped again. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t even close to falling for Gabe. The rejection stung.

A finger touched her cheek in a gentle stroke. Blinking back the telltale sign of emotion, she met his gaze. “Those high standards you spoke of?”

His eyes widened. “Huh?”

She gave a tiny shrug. “It’s okay.”

He grasped both her shoulders and stared down at her. “It’s not about me, Miranda. It’s you. I can tell you have feelings for someone else. It’s there in the way you pull back when I get too close.” Dropping his hands, he stepped away. “Cole?”

Her lips tightened. “We don’t want the same things, but you’re right. My emotions are still engaged.” She touched his arm. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let Jenna call you, knowing...”

His smile was quick. “I didn’t mind, but I’m starting to like you more than a little. If it isn’t going anywhere…”

She drew in a breath. “You’re an awfully nice guy, and now that I’ve actually gotten you to talk…well, I wish it could be different.”

“So do I. Once you’re over him for good, give me a call.”

Picking up the box of paints, he crossed the deck and disappeared around the side of the house. A kind and handsome man gone from her life—and it was all Cole’s fault. Her hands clenched at her sides.

“Miranda.”

She whipped around, and her eyes narrowed. The bane of her existence stood near the deck steps, his gaze full of determination and a hint of anger. Bending, he lowered Jackson to the grass and tossed down the diaper bag.

“I knocked, but you didn’t answer, so I walked around back. Much to my surprise, I nearly ran into Gabe Tyler going in the opposite direction. The look he gave me was not warm and friendly.” His voice dripped sarcasm.

Her temper escalated. “Did you want something?” She shot a glance toward the baby, crawling in the direction of her flowers. “Someone to watch your nephew, maybe?”

“I don’t need a damn sitter.” Scooping up Jackson before he could mangle her petunias, he plopped him on his butt beside Jezebel, who switched her tail and blinked.

Miranda folded her arms across her chest. “Then why are you here?”

“We need to talk.”

She couldn’t imagine what was left to say. As the seconds ticked by, Jackson petted the cat with gentle strokes. Delight and wonder flashed in his eyes when Jezebel rolled onto her back and purred, exposing her soft, gray belly.