by Reina Torres
By the time she stepped outside, Conor and Jun were carrying the turtle, their hands lifting at the shell on both sides of the turtle, keeping their hands far away from his sharp mouth.
The turtle, for as much as this wasn’t his normal mode of transportation, seemed to be dealing well. He turned his head from side to side snapping at whatever he wanted.
Miranda skipped ahead and opened the door to the clinic, reaching to the side to flick the light switches before she remembered that they switched it to motion activated. Stepping out of the way so that the guys could put the turtle down on the sterile metal table. She stepped up to the sink and washed her hands carefully and then dried them before she pulled on her gloves with a quiet and efficient snap.
“Jun?”
“Yes?” His tone was laced with humor, but she had no idea why.
“I’ll hold him while you get gloved up.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She rolled her eyes and turned around, almost bumping into Trace, because he’d apparently been standing behind her. His nose was just a couple of inches from hers and his eyes moved over her face. “Excuse me, sir.”
His eyes settled on her lips for a moment and she struggled to stay ‘all business.’
Thank goodness, he was the one to step out of her way and she rounded the table to get to the side.
Once she had her hand securely on the lip of the shell, Jun went to the sink and cleaned up.
“You need anything?”
Miranda saw Trace at her side and smiled. She needed… a lot, but she was fairly sure that he didn’t mean it in the way she did. Smiling she nodded at the counter behind him. “Can you get me the metal tray over there? The one with the snippers and the other instruments.”
“Sure.”
When he turned around, she swallowed hard. Somehow, Trace had made the single word sound like a caress. And he probably didn’t even know he was doing it.
Lifting her gaze away from his trim form she managed to see Conor watching her, a playful smile on his face.
She narrowed her eyes at him and stuck out her tongue, just in time for Jun to see it.
“Well, it’s good to know that even in her thirties, my cousin is still in touch with her childish side.” Shaking his head, he came up to the table and crouched down to look at the turtle.
“I’ll show you childish,” she grumbled at him as she took the time to grab the handle of the light above the exam table to pull it into place.
Trace stepped up beside her and set the tray down out of the reach of the turtle’s legs. “Is Conor giving you a problem?”
Conor’s snort of laughter earned him a look from Miranda and Trace standing beside her.
She turned to look up at Trace and smiled. “When doesn’t Conor give me a problem?”
Miranda was prepared for Trace to give his partner a look or a curt comment, but when his hand settled on her lower back, she wasn’t ready for that.
Her knees buckled the tiniest bit and her breath caught in her chest.
There was a good chance that someone else heard her gasp, but no one was giving anything away, so she forced herself to focus on the turtle that Trace had brought in.
It only took a few moments for Jun to see the fishing line that had tangled up around the turtle’s body and some of his legs, not to mention the hook that had embedded itself between the body and a leg.
Jun pulled out his phone to take a few photos to document the damage while Conor quickly went through the salient points of their introduction to the turtle.
Miranda focused her attention on the head and mouth of the turtle. She wasn’t going to let her cousin get hurt if she could do anything about it. Holding the shell just above his neck, she kept her hands firmly in place. “You’re going to cut off the line?”
Jun nodded and mumbled his agreement. “It’s the best thing for him and then we’re going to look at what kind of damage the hook and line did to his side and legs. From there we’ll see what we can do to help him keep clean until it heals up.”
“Aww,” she smiled down at the turtle’s craggy face, “you poor thing. Someone caught you up on a hook. That’s probably why you bit that nasty man.”
The turtle turned his head toward her in a slow arc and she felt Trace’s fingers tuck into the back of her pants. She wanted to tell him to let her go, but honestly, there was something kind of sweet and sexy about the situation.
And that, she was definitely not going to say in front of everyone.
“Careful.”
She wasn’t sure how close he was to her, but she knew that the gravely tone of his voice was doing all kinds of delicious things to her.
“I’m got him, Trace. Don’t worry.”
“Oh, I’m going to worry about you, make no mistake.”
Damn, that was it. Her entire body was tingling and if she had to stand up anytime soon, she was going to treat everyone to a view of her tightly budded nipples pressing against her bra and shirt.
She’d never live through that.
Miranda knew she had to change the line of thought in her head. “I’m actually pretty impressed,” she swallowed and directed a look at Conor, “this guy’s bite is over 1000 pounds per square inch. If that man’s going to be able to keep his fingers, he must have some pretty thick hide.”
Conor thought about it for a moment. “Well the landowner did say the man was some kind of entertainment producer kind of guy. I’m guessing to be in Los Angeles they’d have to have thick skin to survive.”
Miranda laughed and relaxed a little. “Point taken.”
Jun gave a little, “Hmm.”
She looked over the shell at her cousin. “Hmm doesn’t sound good.”
He looked up and met her concerned gaze. “Hmm certainly isn’t good. I hope you don’t mind another reptile at the inn, Cuz.”
“He’s going to be here awhile?”
She felt Trace’s finger sweep across her lower back.
“Is there a problem?”
Miranda shook her head. “Not for me. I love animals, all kinds-”
“Ha!” Conor raised a speculative eyebrow. “I remember that spider in the breakroom that you tried to smite!”
She glared at him. “You promised you wouldn’t say anything.”
He shrugged. “I just wanted to give you a reality check.”
Trace leaned forward, his palm warm against her back. “Be a good guest, Paxton.”
“And that spider was looking to hurt me. It was your duty to take him outside, Conor. Remember that.”
He gave her a mutinous look, but she went back to the question at hand. “I just feel bad when we have them stay for any period of time. Being here means they’re not well. And as much as I’d love to keep them all… except spiders,” she acknowledged, “it’s a bittersweet goodbye when they leave, but that’s the way it should be.”
Trace sighed and rubbed a small circle on her lower back, glad she hadn’t stepped away or given him a look to back off. From the start of her time as a game warden he knew about her love for animals. He’d been her trainer once she had passed the academy courses and whenever they’d encountered a call with a suffering animal, he watched her suffer.
And like most areas in Texas, San Antonio was short of qualified rehabilitation shelters for animals. Oh sure, there were plenty of residents that tried to keep wild animals like pets, but so many of those situations ended badly.
Some with worse injuries to the animals or their human caretakers.
But Miranda had always been different. Her cousin, Jun Tottori, her closest male cousin on her mother’s side, had been in veterinary school and had sent her the textbooks that he’d finished using so she could study as well.
When Miranda’s paternal grandmother had passed on, Abuela Jimenez had left her only granddaughter a house and a good-sized piece of property along with it.
Just a few years into her job with the game wardens, Miranda decided to leave the service and turn the
house and property into a rehabilitation center in conjunction with Jun’s veterinary practice.
Sure, Trace had been sorely tempted to talk her into staying, but it only took one look at Miranda when she was dealing with animals to know that she was right where she needed to be.
“Shhh…. Shh… it’s okay.”
But that didn’t stop him from wanting to lose his mind when he saw her petting the turtle on his head. He remembered the free-flowing blood when they’d gotten the animal’s jaw off of the hand of his victim, and it would kill him if something like that happened to her, but he had a feeling it wouldn’t.
She just had a way with wild things.
After all, she’d certainly tamed him in ways that he hadn’t expected.
Or wanted.
But it had happened, no matter how much he tried to fight the truth staring him in the face.
Miranda Jimenez owned every inch of his old and shriveled heart, but he just couldn’t seem to get his shit together enough to make it official.
Thinking back to a conversation that he’d had with her and some other candidates over lunch during their Academy days, she’d likely call him a ‘hot mess’ on the inside.
He wouldn’t argue about it, since it was true, but it didn’t stop him from wanting to draw her into his arms and kiss her until she forgot that between the two of them, there was a good decade of time.
He certainly wouldn’t forget about it and that meant that whatever he felt was doomed before it started.
“Hey,” he felt an elbow in his side and turned to look.
Miranda was watching him carefully.
“You okay?”
What was he going to tell her? The truth? The very truth he’d been avoiding thinking about since he’d almost shot off his mouth about it at her party? Yeah, right.
He turned to look at the men on the other side of the room. Knowing that he was under the keen observation skills of his current partner and her cousin would certainly make it easy to step back and bring his mind under control.
But the room was empty besides the two of them.
There wasn’t even the turtle to keep them apart.
“What happened?”
She smiled at him and set her hand on his chest. “Jun took the big guy into the back to get him set up in a kennel with some food and water. Don’t ask me how he’s going to find one big enough, but he took him along with Conor.”
He opened his mouth and closed it again, struggling to figure out his next move.
It would be easy to step back, but she had her hand on him and damn it, it felt good to feel her warmth.
“Are you trying to get away from me?”
His focus snapped to her face. He heard a tremor in her voice that bit into him almost as hard as the turtle had bitten into that guy from Hollywood.
“You’ve stayed away long enough, Trace. I called you.”
He nodded, slowly. “I know.”
“I invited you over to dinner.” She looked at the room before looking back at him. “I’m kind of stuck here most days and I know you’re working, because-”
“Because I’m always working,” he almost managed a smile.
“And if you’ve decided that whatever you wanted to talk about isn’t on the table, Trace. I’m good with that.”
His heart thumped heavily against his ribs.
“I just miss seeing you,” she looked straight into his eyes and he heard the truth in her voice, “and I miss talking to you. That was the only thing that made me think twice about leaving.”
That was news to him. “Really?”
She smiled. “Yes, really. So, if you just want to be old friends, I’m good.”
Old.
Well, if that didn’t slap him in the face.
He shook his head. “Okay.”
And then he nodded. “No.”
She leaned back a bit and the top of her nose wrinkled toward her furrowed brow. “Which is it?”
“I’m struggling with this, ‘Randa.”
His palm smoothed over the hair at her temple.
“I’ve got all of these thoughts inside my head and they don’t play nice. And I look at you and I know that the last thing I want to do is hurt you. The way I am right now, I don’t know.”
She opened her mouth to speak but she heard a door down the hallway open and close.
And as much as he knew he’d be doing damage to their relationship, whatever it was, Trace stepped back until there was a few feet between them.
Jun stepped into the room first, his gaze carefully finding his cousin first and then settling on Trace. “Well, our new guest has been shown to his room and apparently didn’t like the turn down service. I’m sure he won’t leave us a tip when he leaves, but he should be fine tonight.” Looking back at Miranda, Jun’s expression turned to one of genuine concern. “You want me to stay tonight?”
“I’m fine. Go home! I’ve got this.”
Trace was sure she did.
Miranda was capable of ruling the world if she wanted to. Taking care of the animals would be easy.
“Do you two have volunteers?”
When Miranda turned to look at him, he realized that he’d spoken.
She grinned, her eyes bright. “Volunteering? Because I’d be happy to hand you an apron and a mop.”
“Apron and a mop?” Conor looked at her in concern. “What’s that for?”
Tilting her head toward Trace she winked. “I just want to see him in the apron. The mop? I just blurted that out.”
She was going to be the death of him.
Conor gave her a return wink. “If you do get him to wear it, I want pictures.”
Trace gave his partner a sour look. “It’s time we get back on the road. You two be careful and let us know if you need anything. All right?”
As Conor headed to the door he waved at the cousins and gave Trace his own sour look. A few moments later when they were out by their vehicles, Conor gave Trace a look. “I hope you made the most of your time in there.”
Trying to ignore the pointed comment, Trace opened the driver-side door on his truck.
“You keep giving up on these chances,” Conor warned him, “you’re going to run out of them.”
Trace shut his door on the noise and started the truck. He was thankful that Conor had come in after him, so the younger man had to leave first. It gave Trace the time he needed to push down the thoughts that Conor’s warning was a little too true for his peace of mind.
Chapter 2
Miranda was just curling up with a book on the armchair she’d set in the corner of her bedroom when her phone vibrated on the bed.
Wincing, she remembered that she’d set it on vibrate when she’d gone to do the evening feeding and bed-kennel-crate check on all of the animals and didn’t want to rile up some of their patients, especially the raptors who tended to fluster easily.
She flipped back her lap blanket until it fell back over the arm and then she crawled onto her bed and picked up the phone. Swiping to answer the call, she backed up into the chair.
“Hey, Jun…” she sang out the greeting as if she was Paul McCartney, “nothing to worry about. All the animals are fed and in bed. What’s up?”
There was a moment of silence.
“I was just calling to say hello.”
She straightened up on the chair and her hand raised to her hair, tugging on the lop-sided ponytail as if he could see it. “Trace. Hey.”
His laughter was a soft chuckle. “Disappointed?”
Miranda cupped the phone gently in her hand and sighed. “Not at all,” she smiled and closed her eyes, “just surprised. That’s all.”
“I can see it.” A little more laughter. “After your party I needed to stay away since I was struggling with myself.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came to mind.
“And like I told you today,” he sighed, “I’m not sure I’m going to be ready to say or do much of anything. My… feel
ings are twisted up inside. And what I feel for you,” she heard his breath slowly pass his lips, “I don’t know if I’m ready for the reality of what it is when I’m not ready for it. Not now.”
A weight settled on her shoulders and she adjusted her toes so they wouldn’t be bunched up against the inside of the of the chair’s arm. “How long,” she paused to swallow and considered her outburst before she started again, “how long until you are?”
She heard him start and stop a few times before he hissed into the phone. “I don’t know, sweetheart, I just don’t know.”
Holding the phone in both hands, she curled up in her chair. “You know what I think?”
Miranda heard his soft scratch of laughter through the speaker. “Not really, because I don’t even know that I think.”
“The great and all-powerful Trace Carson doesn’t have the answer,” she closed her eyes and imagined herself leaning up against him on her couch. Hers because she’d never seen the inside of Trace’s home, let alone know what kind of home he lived in. “Do you want to know what I think?”
Having spent more than a few years working with Trace off and on, she could almost see his frustrated expression. The one he allowed himself when he didn’t think anyone was looking. She understood his need to keep things under control. That’s just how he lived his life.
It made him a damn good game warden. A leader. And, even if he didn’t know it, hot beyond belief.
Yeah, looking at him standing tall and strong, commanding any situation he was near, was what her abuela had called a tall drink of water.
And Miranda knew she was thirsty.
Had been for years.
She’d just been waiting for him to realize that staying in control every minute of every day was going to get boring one day.
Or crash through the tight reins of his control and break everything into pieces.
She wanted to show him there was another way. A way to let go of some of the pressure. Release that hard-won control and maybe even enjoy it.
