Asking for Trouble

by Jannine Gallant

  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?”

  “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.”

  T
he 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.”