“It doesn’t work,” Miranda said. “Virgil never drank coffee.”
Jeremiah straightened. “So if it doesn’t work, and he never drank coffee, why is there a coffeepot in here?”
“Because it was a gift from a relative who didn’t know Virgil hated coffee. And because Virgil was such a good guy, he could never bring himself to get rid of it.”
“Oh.” Were they really going to have this stilted conversation over a coffeepot? He supposed they had to have a normal conversation sometime but the conversation they were having hardly seemed a good start. “Miranda...about last night...”
Miranda waved away his attempt. “I didn’t come in here to talk about that. In fact, I’d be really happy if we never talked about that night ever again. I don’t need my coworkers to know what a colossal mistake I made on this grand of a scale. I came in to talk to you as an employee.”
Jeremiah considered her request. He could understand the urge to ignore the intimate details between them. However, he found it impossible to forget the memories that were seared into his brain and he wasn’t so naive as to believe that time would dull their clarity. “As much as your solution to our problem would be the easy way out, I’m not that kind of man. We need to talk about what happened between us. We both acknowledge that we made a mistake. And we need to be adult about it and move on. And I agree—the information should not leave this room.”
“Permission to speak freely?”
“Of course.”
“Listen, you’re new here and so you don’t know everyone’s back stories, their personal little tragedies or idiosyncrasies, so I’m going to do you a solid and let you in on mine. I’m not a girl who snuggles. I’m not looking for a man to save or protect me. I take my fun where I can find it and I don’t apologize for it. You came along at the right time and fulfilled a need. I’m sorry if that sounds crass or unladylike or vulgar, but the bottom line is I had an itch and you were there to scratch it. I do my job well and, contrary to what the admins thought, I would’ve been a hell of a director. So, what I came in here to say is what I would’ve said regardless. This is my town and I care about the people who live here. I will hold you to a higher standard and just because you’re the boss doesn’t mean that I won’t tell you exactly how I feel about any given topic regarding my people.”
Jeremiah absorbed her statement. On one hand, he could appreciate her stark honesty. On the other hand, he could tell why she hadn’t been selected as the director. The administrator didn’t have the luxury of saying whatever he or she felt or believed at any given moment. Tact, patience, knowing when to keep your mouth shut were valuable assets that Miranda apparently didn’t value. “I’ve read your file. I know you’re a damn fine tracker. I know you come from this town. Though what I don’t know is why you have a reckless streak and a dangerous problem with authority.”
Miranda’s mouth tightened, clearly irritated by the information that’d been shared with him. “Who said I was reckless?”
Jeremiah shook his head, not interested in playing a “he said, she said” game. “Not important. What is important is the intel. The fact that you grabbed a stranger off the street to have sex, without knowing a thing about me, proves the information valid.”
“Are you judging me?” Miranda’s eyes flashed, revealing a hot temper. “What kind of man goes home with the first woman he lays eyes on in a strange town?”
“A man ending a long self-imposed celibacy with a beautiful woman who openly propositioned him.” He shifted, mildly irritated at being drawn into a fight. His point was rapidly becoming lost. “Miranda, if you don’t want to tell me your reasons, then don’t. But I would advise you not to pick a fight with your superior on the first day.”
His advice seemed to hit home. Miranda looked away, and he could tell she was mentally biting her tongue. Perhaps something she wasn’t used to doing. “Duly noted.” She drew a deep breath and retrained her focus. “In addition to being the best tracker in the area, aside from my brother Trace, I’m in charge of keeping on top of the poachers in the area. If you’d like I can send you a couple of the files I’ve been working on.”
“That would be appreciated.” His mind should’ve been on business, but there was something about her that made it difficult to stay focused. He wanted to know what compelled her to pick up strange men. He wanted to know how many men there had been before him. All manner of questions that he had no business thinking or wondering. “Poachers are everywhere. Same scum, different day. You say you’ve been keeping track of a few? Anyone else on this?”
“No, it’s sort of my baby. My passion, if you will.”
“Send me some of your files and I’ll give them a read. I can’t promise I’ll get to them today but I will definitely try to look over the data by the end of the week.”
She accepted his answer. “Good. I look forward to your thoughts. Welcome to the team.”
Miranda didn’t waste any time with chitchat or idle conversation. She blew out as quickly as she blew in. Jeremiah wondered just how complicated his relationship was going to be with the woman. He’d give anything to forget that last night had ever happened. But he’d long given up wishing that he could change the past. His intimate connection with Miranda Sinclair was just one more thing he would learn to deal with.
* * *
MIRANDA SAT HEAVILY in her chair and realized her hands were shaking. Damn, why couldn’t she just push him from her mind like every other man? She talked a good game, but everything was too fresh, the memories too vivid to simply move on as if it’d simply been another encounter. As if the sex had been mediocre. That probably would have made things a lot easier. A crappy one-and-done certainly didn’t compel a girl to chase after another round.
But that wasn’t the case. He’d certainly known his way around a woman’s body. He had skill. Which, of course, begged the question, why was he single? Not that she cared. But she was naturally curious. She sensed a bigger back story behind those soulful eyes. Don’t dig. She shouldn’t care what his story was.
She placed her fingers behind her head and leaned back in her chair. Maybe she needed some target practice. The familiar weight of a gun in her hand always seemed to soothe the ragged nerves. She liked to imagine she was putting that laser sight right between the eyes of the bastard who’d killed her sister. Of course, she didn’t know who that person was because Simone’s killer had never been found. So in her imagination there was always a blank face staring back at her.
The phone rang, interrupting her dark thoughts, and she picked up the receiver almost gratefully. That was until she heard her mother’s voice on the other end.
“What is wrong with you?”
“That’s a loaded question, don’t you think?” Miranda answered with just enough sarcasm to really piss her mom off. “What’s the problem?”
“Don’t play innocent with me. I know it was you who called that lady. Now I’ve got these strangers in my business.”
Miranda withheld the sigh. The organizer must have paid her mother a visit. “Mom, you need help. I thought Paula could help you get things started.” She took a deep breath, fighting the urge to slam the receiver down in her mother’s ears. “No reason to get all pissy about it.”
“Watch your mouth. And I don’t appreciate you sending nosy people into my house to tell me how I should live. And your father isn’t happy about it, either,” her mother added for emphasis. “You’re scaring away business.”
Miranda felt a flare of familiar anger bubble up in her chest. “What business? Are you talking about the nonexistent business he makes from his carvings? Or his thriving pot business?”
“You know damn well your father only uses marijuana for medicinal purposes. Stop making him sound like a criminal.”
“Mom, you know he sells his pot for money. That is illegal. And I’m not having this con
versation with you. Particularly while I’m at work. In case you’ve forgotten I work for a federal agency.”
“I never asked for your help. I don’t need an organizer. And I wish you’d stop foisting your ideas onto me.”
“Fine, Mom. I was just trying to help.”
Her mother, slightly mollified by the muttered apology, moved on to a different subject that was equally controversial in their family. “I don’t like Talen spending so much time with that woman.”
And by that woman, her mother was referencing Talen’s paternal grandmother, Ocalena. “You should take your own advice and stop poking your nose into business that isn’t yours. Talen loves his grandmother and she’s a good woman. You need to stop ripping on her.”
Her mother sniffed, “Well, we all have our opinions now, don’t we? Forgive me if I am uncomfortable with my only grandson spending so much time with a loony Indian. It can’t be healthy that she fills his head with all sorts of stories about that father of his.”
Ah, the familiar argument about Talen’s father. One of her mother’s favorite topics. “There’s no need to pound it into my head how much you hated Johnny. I am well aware of your feelings. However, Johnny was Talen’s father for better or worse. Now drop it.”
“When it’s a subject you don’t want to talk about, you’re happy to shut me down. When it’s a subject I don’t want to talk about, you needle me into the ground. Miranda, you’ve become a raging hypocrite as you become older.”
And you’ve become an even bigger pain in my ass than you ever were. “Was there something you needed to talk to me about?”
“Yes, actually there was. Aside from that horrid little woman intruding on our personal space, I needed to tell you that I heard gunshots on the back forty. I want you to check it out.”
Poaching of Alaska’s resources was a major problem for the state, and the fact that her parents lived on a very large parcel of land that backed up to the Kenai Mountains made their property a popular trespassing point. “I’ll take a look. Did you call Trace?”
“Of course. He’s unavailable.”
Miranda tried not to take offense. The fact that she was her parent’s second choice never felt warm and fuzzy. But she supposed that was something she ought to be used to by now.
“Have you met your new boss yet?” her mother asked, quickly changing the subject.
“Yes.” Miranda didn’t add details. “Why?”
“Because I know how you’d set your heart on getting that job. However, don’t do anything that will put you out of a job. Good jobs don’t just fall out of the sky.”
Was her mother giving her advice? Surely, that was the sign of the apocalypse. “And what, pray tell, could I possibly do that would put me out of a job?” Aside from sleep with the new boss?
“You’re like an old bear with something caught in its paw. You know how you get when things don’t go your way. I just don’t want you to do something stupid.”
Something stupid? Such as pick a fight with her baby sister over a sweater that ended up getting her killed and destroying the family? Miranda would try to refrain from making such an epic mistake again. “Your concern is touching, Mom. But I think I’ve got it handled. You know, would it kill you to acknowledge that I’m not the same reckless kid I used to be?”
“Miranda, I would go to my grave with a smile on my face if I thought you could change. I pray for my grandson that he won’t be scarred by your parenting skills.”
“Excuse me? What are you talking about?”
“I know why you let that Indian woman take care of my grandson...because you were out trashing the Sinclair name with your loose ways. Don’t think that you’re not the topic of every whispered conversation, because you are. I can only hope that you’ve run out of men to sleep with by now.”
“Just because I like to have a good time doesn’t make me irresponsible in every other way,” she said, hurt by her mother’s censure, though why she cared, Miranda didn’t know. “If you can’t tell how I’ve changed, then you never paid much attention in the first place.”
“See it how you will. Doesn’t change the facts. Good girls don’t take home the first man they lay eyes on and that’s a fact. What kind of example are you setting for Talen? No father, no man around to teach him how to do all the things a boy should know...”
“Such as?” she demanded to know. “I can hunt, shoot, trap, track... What exactly is a man going to teach my boy that I can’t?”
“I’m not going to argue the point. I’ve said my piece and I’ll leave it at that.”
“Well, thanks for sharing,” Miranda said. God, help me now and end this conversation. “I have to go. Was there anything else that you needed?” Like the knife stuck in my back?
Miranda could sense her mother’s irritation at her abrupt end of the conversation. Jennelle Sinclair loved having the last word. “I see there’s no sense in talking to you when you’re going to act like that. Don’t forget to look into those poachers above the property line.”
The line went dead and Miranda shook her head. Unbelievable woman. Weren’t people supposed to mellow out with age? Apparently, her mother hadn’t received that memo. She’d like to say they were close at one time, but that would not be true. Jennelle had reserved all of her happiness, her pride and her ambition for her youngest daughter, Simone.
Miranda had simply been the one in Jennelle’s way. At least that was the way it’d always felt. If it hadn’t been for her dad, teaching her how to track along with her brothers, her childhood would have been depressingly bleak.
At Miranda’s lowest point following Simone’s death, she’d often believed her mother would have been happy if Miranda had been the one found dead on that mountain rather than her beloved Simone.
And frankly, there were times that fear remained.
CHAPTER FIVE
HE HAD PLANNED to wait a few days but Jeremiah ended up spending some time looking over the poaching reports that Miranda had prepared. The reports were thorough and showed a commendable attention to detail. Even if Miranda hadn’t told him that catching poachers was a passion of hers, he would’ve been able to tell by the nature of her reports. A wry smile lifted his lips. Miranda was a passionate woman, apparently in all things. He wished their relationship hadn’t been contaminated by their one-night stand. He suspected they could have become strong allies, maybe even friends. Now their relationship would forever be tainted by what they’d shared intimately.
And about that...what he wouldn’t give to get the memories out of his head. It wasn’t that the memories weren’t enjoyable; no, quite the opposite. The memory of last night made him yearn for more. And that was absolutely not happening. Maybe, with a fresh start, it was time to start dating again. After his son had died and his wife divorced him, the usual appetites for companionship simply died. Ending his celibacy with someone like Miranda had certainly left its mark. Literally. Jeremiah shifted as the pull of Miranda’s scratch marks on his back caused him to wince.
He rubbed the grit from his eyes and finally shut down his computer. Everyone had long since gone home but he’d stayed behind to further acclimate himself to the new surroundings. He didn’t want to seem like that guy who simply punched the clock and didn’t care about the job. Back in Wyoming, he’d been accused of being a workaholic. He couldn’t deny that charge. That’d been one of the many hatchets his ex-wife had flung at him, screaming that he hadn’t been around for their son so he shouldn’t grieve for him. That’d been a low blow. Maybe that was why he’d been so ready for a fresh start. He couldn’t stomach the memories—both good and bad—that he was leaving behind.
He closed his eyes as one particular memory eclipsed his ability to hold it back.
“How dare you cry for him! It’s your fault he’s dead.” His ex-wife, Josie, stared at him with red-rimmed
eyes brimming with hatred. “I told you he was too young for an ATV. But you went out and got him one anyway.”
“That’s a new low, even for you, Josie. For you to insinuate that it was my fault...you’re lucky you’re a woman. If a man had dared to say that to me I’d knock his teeth down his throat.”
But Josie was wild in her grief and in her belief that Jeremiah had caused the death of their son. “There’s nothing that you could do to me that would rival the pain I’m suffering right now. Go ahead and do your worst. He was only eleven, Jeremiah! What kind of idiot allows an eleven-year-old to drive an ATV? It’s not even legal!”
“I made a mistake,” he admitted, feeling sick in his gut. But Tyler had pleaded with him, using the excuse that nearly all his friends had been riding around on ATVs since they were nine. It had seemed a small thing to allow since he’d only be using the ATV on their property and most of their land was fairly gentle terrainwise. But he should’ve stuck to his guns and turned the boy down. “I’d do anything to take it back. You know that, right?”
But Josie simply stared, as if it were possible that he’d deliberately made a choice that he knew was going to hurt their son. That was worse than ludicrous; it was downright repugnant.
“What does it matter? He’s dead,” she retorted dully, refusing to look at him, as if the very sight of him made her want to retch. Well-meaning folks had warned them that the death of a child could rip apart a marriage and they’d need to support one another to get through the crisis. Jeremiah was fairly certain Josie wouldn’t throw a glass of water on him if he were on fire. So much for supporting one another through the storm.
That Reckless Night Page 4
