by Deb Kastner
Miranda had just enlisted herself in a solo mission to take on his very messy bachelor pad house, and worse yet, snoop around in his kitchen in order to find everything she needed to serve coffee and treats. He had far more dog biscuits than anything edible for a human, but he thought he still had some packaged chocolate chip cookies left in the pantry somewhere, which he hoped she would find.
He had no doubt that Miranda, maker of blanket tents and encourager of babies’ imaginations, could rustle up something for them.
He wasn’t worried about the dogs accepting Miranda, but he wasn’t so certain about how Miranda would respond to his pack of mutts on her own. They became easily overexcited when visitors arrived, and that was with him there to keep them in line.
At least her gaze had promised him she wouldn’t leave him alone with Officer Peterson for any longer than necessary.
Still—a woman poking her nose around his things?
The very thought sent a shiver down his spine.
But then again, she’d successfully redirected the officer away from what would have most certainly been an unmitigated disaster. How would the officer have taken a pack of dogs living in his house? That wouldn’t be easy to explain.
Miranda was here.
The thought gave him courage. Unlike Simon, Miranda was gregarious and friendly. She clearly knew what to do and say to defuse even the most delicate of situations.
Well, except for when it was just the two of them alone together.
They sparked like flint on stone.
Regardless, when push came to shove, Miranda had stepped into the ring with him, and he was glad she was on his side, even if that meant she was charming Officer Peterson—Simon refused to call him Kyle—into ignoring, or at least modifying, the many notations on his clipboard.
Simon didn’t have the foggiest notion why Miranda was here, sans children—especially since earlier in the day they’d been quarreling over their differing opinions on the defilement of the Nativity scene.
But as he watched her heading toward the ranch house, and hoping Officer Peterson wasn’t likewise enjoying the view, Simon decided it didn’t matter why she was here.
Only that she was here.
And she’d just saved his bacon.
* * *
A million conflicting thoughts had rushed through Miranda’s mind when she’d drawn up in front of Simon’s ranch house and parked her convertible behind a police SUV with the lights still flashing.
Evidently nosy Blanche Stanton had finally made good on her threat to report Simon to the authorities.
Unbelievable.
She and Simon might frequently lock horns, like earlier at church, but that didn’t stop her from worrying about him, picturing him being driven off in handcuffs for who-knows-what reason. Her breathing increased into short gasps until she was nearly hyperventilating.
She’d seen him at his worst—with her, obviously—but she’d also seen him at his best, delivering his beloved puppies. She hadn’t been around Simon for that long, but it was enough for her to know that he was a man who took honor and loyalty seriously.
She quickly realized he’d backed himself into a corner he couldn’t get out of, at least not without her help.
Inviting Officer Peterson into his chaotic, topsy-turvy dog-filled house?
What had he been thinking?
Had he panicked?
Was he insane?
More to the point...
Was she?
She’d taken one look at the anxiety in Simon’s gaze, like a beacon warning against sharp rocks just under the water’s surface, and her empathy had immediately risen in response. It was a blessing and a curse.
She hadn’t actually thought all the way through her brilliant solution to Simon’s problem, but she had managed to divert Officer Peterson away from the house with the first idea that had popped into her mind.
Which would have been fine, except...
Now that Simon and Kyle were heading out to the picnic table by the lake, Miranda had a moment to reflect on what she realized was not one of her brighter ideas.
Yes, she had distracted the officer from entering Simon’s dwelling, but now she’d effectively volunteered herself in his place.
Brilliant move, that.
An animal control officer at least presumably knew all about dogs and would know how to handle himself around them.
Miranda, on the other hand, knew exactly nothing.
She understood why Simon didn’t want the officer to know he usually kept all of his rescues in his house, not to mention all the throw-away dogs who made their permanent home with Simon.
Even though Miranda knew next to nothing about rescue work, she was fairly certain Simon was the exception to the rule. All the dog rescues she’d ever seen—albeit only on television and not in real life—had dogs in kennels, sad eyed and lifting their heads to join the cacophony of barking. Foster families might get involved in individual cases, possibly, but she imagined there was no other rescue that worked remotely close to the way Simon ran his operation, with his entire pack of mutts making their home in his home.
That might be difficult to explain.
Which brought her to her second concern—she’d only been in Simon’s house once, and she wasn’t sure what his dogs had thought of her even then. She wasn’t exactly a dog person, and she was pretty sure the canines knew it.
What if she walked in and they thought she was an intruder?
She stood at the entrance to his home, blowing out a breath and shaking out her tense muscles.
She was certain she’d read somewhere that animals could smell fear, and that trait was rolling off her in waves.
What if the dogs trounced on her?
But Simon had immediately agreed to her suggestion when she’d made it, so he must not have been too worried—or else he was so distracted, or so desperate that the officer not see the inside of his house, that he was willing to sacrifice Miranda.
“This is the stupidest idea I’ve ever had,” she muttered aloud as she turned the doorknob. “Well, here goes nothing.”
She took two steps into the house and froze as dozens of doggie eyes peered up at her expectantly.
For the first few seconds not one of them moved or made a sound, and neither did Miranda.
Ignore the dogs, get the coffee and get out.
She felt like she was participating in some kind of covert op for a spy agency, except that she’d already been made by every doggie in the room.
Then the chaos started—low woofs, high yaps, and dogs of all shapes and sizes bound and determined to get her attention by every means they had.
Wet noses bumped her palms and tiny paws scratched at her ankles. Oddly, though, even with the frenzy of movement and the cacophony of howls, yips and barks, Miranda realized she was not afraid.
These were Simon’s dogs.
He’d taken them in. Trained them. Loved them.
And he trusted them enough to send Miranda into his house unaided.
Three-legged Chummy, the wire-haired terrier, and Loki, the blind husky, greeted her and she reached down to scratch the dogs’ ears.
“All right, fellows—and ladies,” she amended. “Let’s find the coffee.”
Chapter Seven
Simon’s neck and shoulders rippled with tension.
What was taking Miranda so long?
It had seemed like hours since he and Officer Peterson had reached the lake and silently seated themselves on opposite sides of the picnic table. Simon had given Kyle the side with the lake view, not so much as a courtesy as that Simon would be able to see Miranda approaching.
He had no way of knowing how long they waited. He didn’t wear a watch and he couldn’t very well pu
ll out his cell phone to check the time with a cop sitting on the other side of the table. It was probably minutes, but the ticking of seconds in Simon’s head grew louder and louder with each passing one.
He had thought the officer would get down to business straightaway—delineating the notes on his clipboard for Simon, rather than waiting on Miranda.
Simon wished he would. It would be far less humiliating for him to face the confrontation alone, because he was well aware that Officer Peterson was about to give him a good dressing down.
Why else would he have made so many notes on his clipboard?
Yet Kyle, as he’d invited Miranda to call him, appeared to be lingering, waiting for her to return.
At long last Simon spotted Miranda jogging down the hill, a coffee carafe in one hand and three cups in the other, as well as a canvas bag Simon guessed carried chocolate chip cookies.
“Sorry for the delay,” she said, her breath coming in gasps as if she’d run a marathon and not the short distance from the ranch house. Her cheeks were flushed a pretty pink and the smile on her face was contagious.
Simon’s lips were curving upward well before he remembered Officer Peterson was still there. And a quick glance at that man confirmed that he, too, was taken in by Miranda’s vibrant expression. The officer was grinning from ear to ear like a mule eating briars.
Simon lowered his brow. Officer Peterson had better stick to his official business and not go off flirting with Miranda.
After all, she was now the new mother of twins. She didn’t have time in her life for frivolity and dating.
Simon had no idea how he would stop such a situation if it occurred, and if she knew he was putting himself up as her personal protector, she’d probably have more than a few sharp words to say to him.
Like that it was her life and he should keep his nose out of it.
But it wasn’t just her life. It was the twins he was thinking of.
Mostly.
So he was going to keep his proverbial mantle of protection around all three of them—without ever saying a word to let on.
He wasn’t foolish enough to risk his own neck.
Miranda passed out the coffee mugs and laid out the contents of the canvas bag—sugar and creamer for the coffee—for the officer, he assumed, as he knew he and Miranda both drank their coffee black. She’d found the chocolate chip cookies Simon had been fairly certain were in the pantry, and she’d included an assortment of fresh fruit.
“Now,” she said as Simon poured each of them a cup of coffee, “what seems to be the problem here, Officer?”
To his credit, Officer Peterson’s expression turned serious. Simon breathed a moment’s relief before he remembered that that wasn’t such a good thing, either.
“Let’s start with your fences,” Kyle said, addressing Simon, though his gaze occasionally strayed to Miranda.
“What’s wrong with my fences?” He knew he sounded defensive, but really. He was meticulous about keeping his fences in order—metal posts reinforced by chicken wire, safe for the sake of the dogs as well as the cattle.
“I’d like to address the southern border in particular. The new retirement community’s home owner’s association requires eight-foot privacy fences between properties. Building your own will assure you of your privacy.”
“I don’t see how any of this has to do with me. My land isn’t part of any HOA. There are already privacy fences on the houses. Why do I need to build one on my land?”
“You are right about the fences already around the houses, and you’re also correct that you aren’t under any obligations here. But I think it would be in your best interest to consider building one anyway. There’s a perception—” he started, then stalled. “One of your neighbors—”
“Has been complaining,” Miranda finished for him. “We already know that. But is a new fence really going to solve the problem? I believe the woman is a—how can I say this delicately?”
She grinned and tapped her finger against her lips as if carefully considering her words, although the glimmer in her eyes told Simon she already knew exactly what she was going to say.
“Busybody. Yes, that’s the word I was searching for. She’s complaining just to hear herself talk. I’m not sure a fence will help with that.”
Kyle cleared his throat. “I’m not supposed to say anything, but—yeah. I agree with you,” the officer said with a nod, stunning Simon into silence.
Miranda appeared equally as surprised, but she found her voice first.
“If Simon is willing to build this fence, Kyle,” she said, nodding toward the officer’s full clipboard and slightly emphasizing his name, “then do you suppose he will be able to run his business as he sees fit?”
It couldn’t be that easy.
Miranda was really reaching, and yet shockingly, there it was.
The officer was actually nodding in agreement.
Kyle’s gaze returned to Simon. “You have a clean facility and your horse and your herding dogs look well cared for. Your barn could use a little bit of a spruce up, but I’m guessing you know that already.”
“Nothing a coat of paint can’t fix,” Miranda affirmed enthusiastically. “Aren’t his dogs wonderful? They are Australian cattle dogs from the very best stock. Simon breeds and trains them and then sends them to their new owners. He even has a waiting list with ranchers from several states.”
Simon didn’t know what was more surprising—that Officer Peterson sounded like he might go easy on him instead of hitting him with the gazillion notes on his clipboard, or that Miranda appeared so animated about the cattle dogs.
She’d really been listening to him when he’d explained his operations to her, even though he knew he’d probably gone into far too much detail because of his natural passion for his business.
Most people’s eyes started glazing over at some point when he really got into his subject, but not Miranda. She actually sounded proud of his accomplishments. His chest swelled just a little.
“I’ll tell you what, Simon,” the officer said. “You put up the privacy fence along your south border and we’ll call it good.”
Simon stared blankly at the hand Officer Peterson thrust out at him.
The officer was ready to call it good—except that it wasn’t good. Simon didn’t have the kind of cash lying around to build acres of a privacy wall.
What little money he’d had, he’d just given Miranda to help with the twins’ upkeep. Twins meant two of everything—and even though she had her own money and the insurance payout, he wanted to contribute. He was a man. He wanted to do something concrete to help. If he could ease her burden, he would. The twins were the most important thing.
But the fence—
Miranda reached out and shook the officer’s hand, as smooth as could be, rescuing Simon from what could have been an extremely awkward situation.
“Done,” she said in an overly cheerful tone. “And thank you, Kyle, for understanding.”
The officer held on to Miranda’s hand, and her gaze, just a little bit longer than Simon thought was strictly necessary. Long enough to make Simon uncomfortable and feel like a third wheel.
“Can I take you for coffee sometime?” Kyle asked Miranda. “That is, unless...” He nodded toward Simon.
“Oh, no, Simon and I aren’t together.”
Simon clapped Kyle on the shoulder, refocusing his attention before he realized Miranda hadn’t actually answered his question.
“Can I walk you back to your car?” Simon urged.
“No need.” Officer Peterson gathered his clipboard and tipped his hat to Miranda. “I’ve got to get back to the station and fill out my report. You know how it is with police work. Endless paperwork, it seems like. Anyway, you get that fence built and I think our problem is solved. In the
meantime, you two should enjoy this sunset. It’s unseasonably warm weather this evening, don’t you think?”
Officer Peterson didn’t wait for an answer, but turned and headed back over the hill to where his SUV was parked. The sound of tires on gravel signaled the end of that particular confrontation.
And now Simon had a whole other one to face.
* * *
Miranda chose a chocolate chip cookie over a piece of fruit to assuage her sweet tooth, and turned around in her seat so she could view the lake.
The officer was right. It was a lovely evening.
Too bad she had to ruin it with the whole not-cashing-the-check nonsense. Simon had already had a stressful day, and now she was going to have to add to it.
Just what she didn’t want to do.
For a moment she considered staying silent on the matter and tucking the check away somewhere for safekeeping, but that was only a temporary solution to a larger problem. Sooner or later Simon would realize she hadn’t cashed the check, and then he’d have every right to come completely unglued on her.
No—it was better to be honest and up front about the check right out of the gate. Besides, he could probably use the money to help fund his privacy fence.
All the more reason for her to get this out in the open as soon as possible. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a big deal after all.
Simon tossed his hat on the table and sat down beside her.
“I suppose I should thank you,” he said in a voice as coarse as gravel.
“What?” Of all the things she thought he might say right now, that wasn’t one of them, especially because he didn’t sound particularly grateful. “Why?”
“Don’t tell me you didn’t see the way Officer Peterson was looking at you. Smart of you to distract him that way.”
She must be out of practice, because she actually hadn’t noticed. She wasn’t in the market for a relationship, but she thought she’d know if a man was showing interest in her. Until Kyle had asked her for coffee, she hadn’t been on that wavelength at all. Did Simon really imagine she would flirt with a peace officer to get out of trouble?
