Guarding Miranda (28 page)

Betty pushed her heavy glasses further up her nose. “Sara and Albert left an hour ago to Winnipegosis to visit George’s mother.  She’s fallen down again. George went with them.”

“So that’s why Tommy’s working until six?” Miranda asked, looking around for the enthusiastic teenager.

“Yup.” Betty looked over Brian, from head to toe. “Who’s this you’ve brought with you?”

“This is Brian, my brother.” The necessary lie rolled easily off of her tongue.

“H’lo,” said Brian, extending a hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

Betty took his hand and grinned. “Likewise.  You know, Russ never mentioned that he had a nephew.” Her grin broadened. “And what an accent you have.  Australian?”

“Good guess.” He replied, gazing around the store. “You sure have a lot of stock in this store, for so small a town.”

“We serve Skownan, the reserve on the other side of the river, Meadow Portage and Mallard, as well as Waterhen,” Betty explained, adjusting her glasses again. She spotted her son in the bread aisle. “Tommy, get Miranda a cart.”

“I can manage, Betty, thanks,” Miranda assured her, saving the boy the task. “Hi, Tommy.”

“Hey, Miranda.” The freckle faced boy smiled up at her. “Still need me for six?”

“Absolutely.” She took a cart and Brian followed her, so tall that he had to duck beneath a support beam exposed in the low ceiling. She consulted the small list she had made after breakfast: “Potato chips, popcorn, eggs, water, bacon, ginger ale, rye bread butter.  Bait and fishing licenses. Anything else?”

“Caesar salad dressing and fixings,” he said, as they entered the aisle. “I’ll make us a chicken Caesar salad for supper.”

“Croutons, too, then.” She added it to her list.  She considered the dairy case. “How many pounds of bacon should we get?”

“Three if you don’t intend to go to the store for a while?”

“Sounds good to me.” She opened the fridge.  Cool air rushed to greet her.  She sought out two dozen eggs and three pounds of bacon and set them in the cart. “There.”

Brian surprised her by leaning very close to her ear and whispering, “Your nipples are getting hard, love.”

“Brian!” She exclaimed, as his warm breath tingled her ear. She quieted her voice to a whisper: “You’re supposed to be my
brother
?”

“That’s why I said it so quietly, Miranda.” His eyes were as teasing as his tones. “You’re lovely when you blush, you know that?”

“Oh, go stuff yourself,” she seethed, disturbed by the effects his comment had on her libido. 

How dare he arouse her in public like that!

He was so crude! 

So male! 

And yet, his honesty had turned her on...

They finished their shopping in near silence, Brian pushing the cart while Miranda led the way. 

Their groceries tallied, Miranda chatted pleasantly for a moment with Betty.

“Betty, you wouldn’t happen to know Ben Clarion’s favorite wine, would you?” She asked, peering at the liquor display behind the storekeeper.

“As a matter of fact, I do.  Why do you ask?”

“He and Mabel invited us out for supper on the houseboat.  I was hoping to bring something, as a token of my appreciation.”

“Well, Ben, he loves his Gallo Family white zinfandel.” Betty pointed at the bottles she spoke of. “Comes in the smaller size or the larger, which do you prefer?”

“The larger,” said Brian, for Miranda. “The man really likes his wine.”

“Don’t we all?” Betty laughed, who fetched the bottle and brown-bagged it. “I’ll add this to your Uncle’s account.”

“By the way, Betty,” Miranda remembered, as they headed for the door with their purchases. “Tell George I’m sorry to hear about his mother and that I wish her well.”

“I’ll tell him that.” Betty grinned. “Have a nice day.”

“You too.” Miranda called over her shoulder.

While Miranda put the groceries away in the kitchen, Brian was constantly under her foot. 

His thigh would brush hers and she would begin to tingle.

His hand would brush hers and again and she would start to tingle. 

His breath would rush against her skin and again and she would begin to tingle. 

Frustrated by the sexual hunger that had begun to build within her, she snapped at him: “Will you please just get out of my way?”

“Certainly.” He replied, hurt evident in his stormy grey eyes. 

Clearly, she was irritated with him. 

But why? 

That was what Brian wanted to know.

“Got any other plans for today, love?”

“Relaxing,” she sighed, “Relaxing and more relaxing.”

“Rest and respite, huh?”

“They’re one and the same, I’m told, rest and respite.”

She bent over to remove her sandals and set them near the black leather sectional.  Removed her wisp of a green shirt and draped it over the arm of the couch.

Her denim shorts followed.

Brian’s appetite for her was growing inch by inch with every inch of creamy ivory skin she revealed.

“Should I begin stripping too,” he began teasingly, “Or?”

“I’m going to lie in the sun for a while,” she replied, her tone dismissive. “It’s nearly twelve.  The sun’s perfect for sunbathing.”

She took the large Navajo blanket from the couch and folded it over her arm. “Brian, I’ll be back inside in an hour or so.”

She had covered herself in bug spray and sunscreen earlier and so left the confines of the cabin, draping her blanket on the verandah outside. 

She laid herself down on the blanket, chest up, closed her eyes and began to revel in the warmth of the sun and the nature sounds coming from all around her. 

There were the throaty noises of the frogs, the sharper calls of the seagulls, the music of the breeze through the reeds that bordered the shore...

Her reverie was interrupted by the sound of the French doors opening. 

It wasn’t long after that she felt Brian’s heavy footsteps on the verandah and then heard the shifting of his weight in the creaky wooden Adirondack styled chair that adorned it.

“It’d be a shame to burn such flawless skin.”

His warning tone annoyed her.

“I’m wearing sunscreen, if it’s any of your business,” she informed him cooly.

“I’m just saying, back home I’ve seen my share of ivory skinned tourists turn lobster red under a sun like this.”

“This isn’t Australia, this is Northern Canada, big difference.”

“Back to the Ice Queen tactics, hmm love?”

Love.

How many times had he called her that?

Love.

It was a cruel joke.

Her heart ached every time he said it, knowing that he meant it in such a casual way...

“I really wish you’d stop calling me that,” she groaned.

“What, Ice Queen?”

“No,
love
.”

“Well I call all women
love
, love.  Force of habit.”

“Well quit it,” she seethed. “It’s annoying.”

“Yes ma’am.” He replied, amused by her change of mood as much as he was irritated and mystified by it.

A long silence passed between them. “You don’t have to babysit me, you know.”

“It’s my job. And besides, I rather enjoy watching you.”

“Lucky me,” she quipped, with a burdened sigh.

Brian had just about had enough of her bitchy retorts and mercurial emotions.  What was with her – did she have a period coming up early or something?

“Who pissed in your corn flakes, love?”

She squinted at him through her left eye and was nearly blinded by the sun.

“What do you mean by
that
?”

“You seem a tad off today,” he began, settling into the Adirondack chair. “A bit bitchy, maybe.”

“Bitchy?” Miranda laughed.

“Bitchy.” He maintained, in his rich baritone voice. 

His voice did wonderful things to her body...

“I didn’t sleep well.”

“Then you lied to me earlier, when I asked-”

“Can’t you just be quiet, please?” She asked, annoyed.

“Quiet?”

“Shh.  Listen to the water, the waterfowl, the frogs.”

“Lovely.”

“Nature’s very lovely.”

“I was talking about you.”

“Shh.”

The sun was so warm, so relaxing.

She did not have to look at Brian to know that he was watching her. 

His gaze had a most arousing effect, as intimate as a caress, a kiss...

Long minutes of silence passed. 

She assumed he was going to respect her request for peace and quiet.

“Your nipples are getting hard again.”

She opened her eyes to stare at him incredulously. “God, Brian can you shut up for once – just please, shut up?”

“Alright, alight.” He shrugged his surrender. “But I can’t help it if you turn me on.”

“Well, you could be more subtle about it.”

Miranda closed her eyes, tightly blocking out the sun and the image of Brian smiling at her. 

He remained silent and so she was able to focus on naught but the sounds around her. 

The wind in the leaves of the trees, the distant drone of a motorboat, the whisper of his breathing.

It wasn’t long before she fell asleep...

“You’re beginning to look a bit pink, Miranda.” The deep, husky voice stirred her out of her restful sleep. “I think you should go inside.”

“Nonsense.” She replied and in keeping her eyes closed, rolled unto her stomach to sun her backside.

“Well don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he scolded and in leaving, closed the French doors.

She awoke for the second time a great deal of time later. 

There was something about lounging about in the sun that brought out the lazybones in her... 

She got unto her knees and wondered at the tightness she felt there. 

She opened her eyes and gasped at what she saw: her knees and thighs were red with sunburn, not just pink but red!

What had happened to the sunscreen?

“Oh no,” she moaned, standing to inspect the rest of her body.  Her legs were sunburned, right down to the tips of her toes. “What garbage sunscreen!”

She checked what she could of the back of her body.

It seemed in better shape than her front. “Lovely, just lovely.”

She whipped the Navajo blanket up from the verandah, entered the cabin and threw it at the couch. 

Brian was watching her intently from his preferred airchair.

He set down
Birds of Manitoba.

“What’s the matter, love?”

“I’m sunburned,
that’s
what’s the matter!”

“I warned you,” he said lightly, looking her over from head to toe, with an expression that was not sexual hungry but sympathy. “Poor love...”

“I told you to stop calling me that!” She hissed and stomped off to the bathroom to draw herself a cool bath. 

Her skin felt tight and hot wherever she touched it but having been burned before, she knew that the worst was yet to come. 

In the next few days, she would surely blister and peel. 

As for walking, bending her legs to walk was already a test of fortitude.