That Reckless Night

by Kimberly Van Meter

  “Those boys don’t run my life. They can visit, or they can stay away—makes no difference to me.”

  Well, it made a difference to her. She was going crazy trying to run interference for all of the different personalities in the family so that no one collided with one another. And frankly, she was sick of it. “I just wish you guys would get along.”

  “Wish in one hand and spit in the other and see which one fills up faster.”

  “That’s a pearl of wisdom,” she muttered, irritated. “Don’t you think you’re too old for that crap anyway?”

  Her father narrowed red-rimmed eyes at her. “You come here to bust my balls, girl? If so, don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

  Tears burned behind her eyes that had nothing to do with the smoke. She was a grown woman but somehow hearing her father speak to her that way reduced her to a small child again. She struggled to remember she was an adult and willed the tears away. “You can’t stay in here and smoke your life away. While you’re not paying attention, your wife is slowly trying to kill herself with all the crap she collects in the house. I need your help to get her to change.”

  “Ain’t no one going to change your mother.”

  Frustration burned beneath her breastbone. Why was everyone in this damn family so difficult? She stood. “What’s it going to take, Dad?” He held her stare, but the smoke had already softened the hard edge. He was slipping into apathy; his favorite place. She looked away with disgust. This was why Trace never visited. And why Wade couldn’t stand to come home. Why was she the stupid one? “She needs help, Dad. And I don’t know what to do. She won’t listen to me. Stop burying yourself in this workshop, pretending that what you do isn’t anything more than sell and smoke pot, and help me save her.”

  “You worry too much.” A small smile lifted the corners of his mouth. As if she were amusing somehow. “It’s good to see you, kid.”

  And just like that her invitation to stay had been rescinded. She was only too happy to leave.

  * * *

  JEREMIAH OPENED HIS hotel room door to find a long-legged, rangy-looking man staring back at him with a wide smile. “Can I help you?” Jeremiah asked.

  “Miranda sent me. I hear you’re in the market for a fully furnished studio apartment. I just happen to have one.”

  Jeremiah stared, trying hard not to judge a book by its cover, but the man did not look the type to own real estate. “It’s true,” he confirmed warily. “I am looking for a fully furnished apartment. How do you know Miranda?”

  “Oh, we go way back. My sister, Mary, works with her at the fish-and-game office with you. But I’ve known Miranda my whole life. Went all through school together.” He stuck his hand out. “The name’s David, but everyone calls me Otter.” Jeremiah accepted the handshake. Otter smiled. “I’m happy to help out a friend of Miranda’s, who also happens to be my sister’s boss. I figure it’s a win-win.”

  Jeremiah smiled. The man was friendly, he’d give him that. What the hell, he’d rather live anywhere than in this motel. “I’d love to take a look if you don’t mind. That would be really nice of you.”

  “It’s nothing fancy but it’ll keep you warm and dry.”

  Jeremiah’s grin widened. “Sounds good to me.”

  Otter wrote down the address and handed it to him on a slip of paper. “I’ll be there today to put in a fresh coat of paint on the walls if you want to come by and take a look. The rent is five hundred a month. Due on the first. There’s also a five-hundred-dollar deposit.”

  Seemed reasonable. “I’ll be sure to stop by. Thanks for the offer.”

  “Thank Miranda. She is the one who made the suggestion. And I was happy to jump on it.”

  Jeremiah folded the small slip of paper and pushed it into his pocket. Considering Otter knew Miranda so well, it was a struggle not to pry. He wanted to say that he would venture into casual conversation about any of his employees but he knew that wasn’t the case. He wanted to know more, simply because he wanted to know more. There was really no way to sugarcoat his reasoning or twist his motivation into something that it wasn’t. “I’ll be sure to thank her.”

  Otter smiled and went on his way, leaving Jeremiah to wonder why Miranda cared where he slept at night. She obviously had gone out of her way to find him a place to live, which suggested that she cared about his welfare on some level, right? He shook his head with a chuckle at his own internal blathering. Why was he reading more into this than the situation warranted? He didn’t need to guess how Miranda felt about him. He already knew: he was an unfortunate one-night stand that was proving to be a thorn in her side.

  Let’s not overthink things, he warned himself. Besides, he was totally fine with how Miranda felt because it wasn’t as if he were hoping and pining for a relationship with the difficult woman. Even if he weren’t her superior and the way was free and clear to bed her every night, the fact remained that she had a personality as soft and cuddly as a hungry bear emerging for the spring.

  Heaven help the man who set his sights on Miranda Sinclair for anything more than a few hours of fun. And he was not that man.

  Fact was, no matter if she was the sweetest, most caring and kind and amiable sort of woman who could cook as well as his mother and was otherwise the perfect person to be around, Jeremiah couldn’t bring himself to take things further with Miranda Sinclair for one reason: her son.

  He hated that he was that sort of coward who would backpedal at the mere idea of having a child in his life again but he couldn’t run from the truth. He was a coward. The thought of putting himself in an emotionally vulnerable place like that gave him an instant case of the shakes, and as much as he liked to think of himself as a strong person, he just couldn’t go there with Miranda, because with a woman like her, he could see himself wanting more than a coworkers-with-benefits deal. He’d want everything she had to offer and then some.

  Thankfully, Miranda wasn’t the type to make the offer.

  Crisis averted.

  Sort of.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  MIRANDA TOLD HERSELF her interest in Jeremiah’s living situation was purely casual, but she hated to admit that she had a hard time knowing that Jeremiah was going to be stuck at the local equivalent of a roadside motel if someone didn’t intervene on his behalf. The man looked as if he hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep since he arrived, and if she seemed concerned, it was simply human nature to care about someone’s well-being.

  “So I hear our boss took Otter’s offer and moved into that studio apartment he has for rent,” Miranda said, making casual conversation ostensibly while running a few copies. Mary’s desk was located close enough to the copy machine to chitchat while the machine did its job.

  Mary turned and smiled. “Yes! He sure did. I’m so glad you mentioned it. Of course, all you’d have to do is say the word and Otter would make it happen because he thinks the sun and stars rise in your eyes,” Mary teased, causing Miranda to roll her eyes.

  She’d tried to gently tell Otter it was never going to happen between them but he was a determined sort and simply took her rejections as future opportunity to try again. He was “wearing her down,” as he put it.

  “Anyway, he took the day to get settled,” Mary added. Miranda nodded. So that was why he wasn’t in the office, she mused. Suddenly Mary frowned in thought. “Do you ever wonder why a good-looking guy like Jeremiah is still single? Seems to me that either he’s gay or there’s something terribly wrong with him.”

  “Maybe he has a wife somewhere,” Miranda said.

  “Where?” Mary blinked. “You mean back in Montana?”

  “Wyoming,” Miranda absently corrected, then shrugged. “Or at least that’s where I think he’s from.”

  “Wyoming. That sounds right, now that I think about it. Well, if you ask me, long-distance mar
riages rarely work out. The whole point of getting married is to have someone to cuddle with at night.”

  “Cuddling is overrated.” Miranda deliberately chose to ignore the fact that she had, indeed, cuddled with Jeremiah and found the experience...tolerable. No, better than tolerable, she admitted grudgingly. It’d been amazing. Best night of sleep she’d ever had. “I prefer the bed all to myself.”

  “Not me. I like to snuggle in real tight,” Mary said, giggling. “Plus, when it’s cold outside, there’s nothing better than a nice warm body to heat you up.”

  That was what Mamu said, too. “Not everyone is cut out for that kind of commitment,” she said.

  “Oh, pooh to that. You just haven’t found the right person to cuddle with. When you do, you’ll wonder why you waited so long.”

  “And what is the color of the sky in Fairy Tale Land?” Miranda asked, batting her eyelashes at Mary before crossing her eyes and sticking her tongue out.

  But Mary was undeterred and smiled beatifically. “Someday you’ll know, too. Mark my words. Fate has a way of working these things out. You wait and see. Maybe it’s even Otter!”

  Ugh. Mary was an incurable romantic that no amount of sarcasm could affect. “It’s not Otter,” she assured Mary with a shudder. “You know I would destroy someone as sweet as your brother. If there’s someone out there for me, that person would have to know how to shoot a gun at the very least. Otter isn’t what you would call the outdoorsy type.”

  “True,” Mary agreed with a sigh. “Poor Otter. He’s more of a city boy than a rugged Alaskan.” A coy, delighted smile followed as Mary added, “Unlike my Jim. He can split a round of wood with one chop.”

  Mary was newly married to her second husband and Miranda could fairly see stars in her eyes whenever Mary talked about Jim. Their gooey lovefest was cute—if you liked that sort of thing—which Miranda did not, and it certainly didn’t make Miranda feel compelled to seek out the same. She scooped up her papers and smiled brightly, saying, “Well, sounds like he’s a handy guy to have around when it’s time to chop a couple of cords. Did you happen to notice if the permits came through for the Dickens Trail Excursions?” Miranda asked, eager to change the subject before Mary started in on her for still being single in spite of plenty of offers to put a ring on her finger. “They usually come in by now and I haven’t seen them.”

  “No, not yet. That’s odd, isn’t it?” Mary agreed. “All the expedition outfits usually have their permits in by now.”

  “Yeah, I’ll give them a call and remind them. Maybe it slipped their minds.”

  “Maybe. Probably,” Mary added definitively. “When there’s so much going on, things slip through the cracks.”

  Miranda nodded and returned to her office with her papers. It was moose hunting season but the fish-and-game office always held a Women’s Outdoor Training course and they were gearing up for the promotional push, which included putting flyers into the mail along with a seasonal calendar of events. It was busywork that Miranda hated but it was a job that needed to be done.

  Perhaps the reason she hated office busywork was because when she had no choice but to complete a menial task, her brain traveled to places that she’d rather not visit.

  Most days she felt completely competent and able to face any challenge—unless it involved Talen. Her boy was her Achilles’ heel and she worried that she was screwing him up like her parents had obviously screwed her up somehow.

  She had to be mother and father for her son and it was a tougher gig than she’d ever imagined it would be. Sure, the job came with unbelievable sweetness but there were days that she felt lost and confused about everything except the fact that she was doing everything wrong.

  She leaned pretty heavily on Mamu for advice, seeing as her own mother wasn’t a beacon of motherly input, but sometimes she wished she had someone else to help shoulder the weight of all that responsibility.

  Ha! Miranda shook herself from the muck of her own melancholy and called herself on that thought. Like you’d want someone else telling you how to raise your son? Not likely. Be thankful Johnny wasn’t around any longer to put in his two cents about how to raise a child, she reminded herself with a derisive smirk at her own conversation. This was why she didn’t spend too much time in her own head—it was too cluttered with junk to navigate safely.

  * * *

  JEREMIAH FINISHED UNLOADING the last of his meager belongings and felt a sense of relief. No more sounds of neighbors’ activities—both carnal or otherwise—to rouse him from a fitful sleep and no more choking down terrible instant coffee as he tried to force his eyes to open after a less-than-restful night.

  It was a nice enough place, nothing fancy just as Otter warned, but that was fine with Jeremiah. He’d had the fancy house back in Wyoming—a chalet-type monstrosity that he’d gladly given his ex-wife in the divorce settlement—and the simple accommodations appealed to his desire to start fresh.

  Here there was nothing remotely connected to his life in Wyoming. Nothing of Tyler, either. He’d brought a few framed photos in the move but they remained tucked away in the boxes. He didn’t have the heart to stare at his son’s precious face smiling back at him, knowing the boy was gone forever. Jeremiah scrubbed his face with his hands and rubbed the grit from his eyes that seemed a permanent part of his body now. He never felt rested; never felt at peace.

  Except once.

  His fatigued mind tripped over the boundaries he’d put in place and stumbled into the memory of lying with Miranda—a virtual stranger—sleeping soundly with her in his arms.

  How bizarre was that? What weird psychology was at work in his brain that the only sleep he’d managed to catch in the past few months was when he’d been curled up with a total stranger?

  Maybe it was delirium setting in but for a split, almost wildly reckless moment, he pictured asking Miranda if she wouldn’t mind becoming his sleeping partner.

  No sex—just sleep.

  He let that notion sink into his brain for a moment and then he barked a laugh at how utterly ridiculous the idea was.

  Sleeping partner. He couldn’t imagine a more inappropriate partner for such an arrangement. He had a feeling Miranda would rather engage in physical intimacy than something so personal as snuggling up to someone.

  A sigh escaped him and he scratched an itch at the back of his neck as he tried to shake the nonsense from his mind. Miranda was his employee. Nothing more. Leave it at that.

  Besides, what did he truly know about her? Not much. She was notoriously private and a bit standoffish with personal details. He knew more about Mary—thanks to Otter’s attempts to talk up his sister to her boss—than he knew about Miranda aside from the sexual details, which seemed seared in his brain.

  Such as the sweet beauty mark on her left ass cheek. One tiny, bluish dark spot on her perfectly taut and rounded behind that made him want to kiss it right before he drove himself deep inside her, straining against the delicious, enveloping liquid heat that threatened to dissolve his bones from the inside out.

  Sweat beaded his forehead and his heart rate quickened. His hands flexed, as if itching to feel Miranda’s silky skin beneath his palms, and his jeans tightened as his penis stirred with the memory. Was he a terrible person for wanting to touch her again? For wanting to pull her straight into his arms and plant his tongue into her mouth? He groaned and realized there was no help for it. Something had to be done about this raging, inappropriate desire or else he’d end up doing something stupid and reckless.

  With a grim smile, he detoured purposefully to his bedroom and dropped onto the bed as he unzipped his jeans. His hand seemed a poor substitute for the real thing, but as he closed his eyes and pictured Miranda, he knew it was as close as he’d allow himself, so he might as well make the best of it.

  Maybe if he wasn’t so pent-up with frustration, he c
ould get over this dangerous attraction.

  But as he pictured Miranda, flush with desire, moving her body in time with his, he knew with a certainty—Miranda was in his blood.

  And he didn’t know what to do about it.

  * * *

  “THANKS FOR THE HEADS-UP for the quality renter,” Otter said, surprising Miranda at the school when she went to pick up Talen and take him to day care.

  Miranda glanced around in confusion until she saw Otter and smiled. “No problem. Otter, what are you doing here at the school? You don’t have kids.”

  “Mary asked me to pick up Hannah,” he said, explaining. “Something about delivering flyers to the post office before cutoff, and I’m always happy to spend time with my niece. I love kids,” he added. “Can’t wait to have a few of my own.”

  She smiled. “You’ll make a great dad, Otter.”

  Miranda’s benign compliment made Otter beam and she could almost see the wheels turning in his head. She withheld a sigh. She wished she could see Otter in any other light aside from a friend because he’d be a great father—and Lord knew, Talen probably needed a male influence at some point—but she just couldn’t see herself knocking mukluks with the guy.

  “I appreciate you helping out Jeremiah. I’m sure he’s glad to be out of the motel.”

  “Seems like a decent guy. Happy to help out a friend.” Miranda let the conversation dwindle but Otter seemed desperate to continue to chat. She waved at Talen and hoped her son booked it over to her so she’d have an excuse to split. “So, Miranda...I was wondering...”

  “Oh! I’m sorry, Otter, but I really have to get going. Tight schedule today.” Otter nodded, shuttering his disappointment behind an accommodating smile, and Miranda felt guilty but not guilty enough to continue on with a conversation that she knew would end up with an invitation for drinks or dinner. She hated to hurt Otter—he was a good guy but not the right guy for her.