by MJ Fredrick
“You want to get out of here?” he asked Miranda.
Miranda straightened and glanced at her margarita on the bar. “I don't know, Noah. I mean…”
Her voice trailed off and he wondered if she expected that he would still be angry that she’d left him, when he’d been so down. Maybe he had hated her at one point, but hell, he’d wanted to escape himself, and had managed to do that, later than he’d originally planned. The way she’d done it, left him, had destroyed him for a time, but they’d been eighteen, for God’s sake, in an impossible position for teenagers. What had he really thought she could do for him? So why hold a grudge? Hell, his father had done much worse to him, and Noah had brought him back into his house.
But while he thought he could probably have come in here and not cared that people were talking about him and his father, he didn't want them talking about him and Miranda. Best they go someplace else.
Miranda must have realized it, too, because she leaned over to her sister and murmured something. The irritation on Allison’s face was clear, and she looked at Noah like he’d been the one to break Miranda’s heart, not the other way around.
That didn't seem to bother Miranda, though, and she slid off the barstool toward him. His first instinct was to take her hand, but he settled for guiding her through the crowd, his hand hovering near the small of her back. He realized, when they made it to the door, that seeing them leave together would ignite a firestorm of rumors, but it was too late to back out of that now.
Flynn had taken a break during their conversation, but even so, once they stepped outside of the Sagebrush, the silence of the evening was disorienting. He inclined his head toward his truck, and as he led her toward it, he wished he’d taken some time to clean it out. He popped open the passenger door and tossed his vet bag into the back seat, dusted off the leather seat and offered her a hand into the truck. She was wearing a slim-fitting skirt, something you didn't see much of in Evansville, so stepping up into the truck was a challenge, and she had to hike the skirt up a little more.
Not that he minded that glimpse of thigh.
When she was settled into the seat, she gave him a small smile, kind of like she was wondering what she was doing here. He closed the door and walked around to the driver’s side.
“Where should we go?”
“You’re the one who lives here.”
“I’ll pick, then.” And he turned onto the road leading to the reservoir.
She shifted in the seat beside him, and he wondered if she was regretting getting into the truck with him. Maybe he shouldn't take her out to the place where they used to hang out as teens. He thought about driving out to the new fast food place on the highway, but yeah, no. That would be tacky.
So he turned onto the road to the reservoir, and she let out a soft laugh.
“I haven’t even thought of this place in years.”
“Still not a lot of places to be alone in Evansville, even with the boom,” he said, turning the key and clicking on the radio, low, just like he used to. Just that motion and the scent of her in the truck—how could she still smell the same, seriously? Things had been so much simpler the last time she’d been here with him. They’d both had their dreams, and most of those had included each other. Just one more thing his father had ruined.
“Yeah, I guess not a priority with roughnecks.”
“A lot of them are family guys who go home on the weekends.”
“So there hasn't been a lot of trouble?”
“I wouldn't say that, and I’m not the one to ask, since I’m the vet and not the sheriff.”
“Do you like it? Being a vet? As much as you thought you would?”
He realized he hadn't answered her question from earlier. “Like any job there are good days and bad days.”
“Today?”
Lately they had all been good days, even when they were challenging, because going to work meant getting away from the house.
“It was good.”
“Look at us, having a conversation like adults,” she said with a shaky laugh as he pulled up to the rise overlooking the reservoir. It wasn't meant to be a parking area, but years of teenagers and anyone else who wanted to be alone doing just that had worn down the grass and packed the earth. “You should hate me.”
Her bluntness startled him. “I should? Why?”
“Well, the way I left, when you needed me.”
He blew out a long breath through his nose and pressed his palms into the steering wheel. He hadn't expected her to come out with that, not off the bat. “I was pissed, at first, for a long time. But once I got away, got to college, I realized that most of my anger was because you got to walk away and I didn’t.”
“But I shouldn't have. I should have stayed beside you. I was too weak, too scared.”
“We were kids. We never thought anything like that would happen to us.” Okay, maybe he had more than she had, but he'd kept that from her. He’d stood between her and the worst of his father’s behavior. “I shouldn't have expected you to.”
She shook her head and twisted her body to look at him. “I loved you. I should have wanted to.”
He tried not to flinch at the past tense use of the word. But of course it would be past tense. She’d been living with another man for years, been in his bed. After all, hadn't he written her off years ago?
But seeing her again, man, everything flipped back to that time.
The last time he was happy.
He reached across the cab of the truck and stroked his knuckles down her cheek. She stiffened at first, then softened.
“In town long?” he asked, needing to know before he made another move, before he let his hope rise.
“I haven’t really decided.” She braced her elbow on the passenger door and leaned her head into it. “I think I want to stay here. For a while, anyway.”
“Big city not all it’s cracked up to be?”
“Not anymore.”
He could have told her that, years ago, but she wouldn't have been happy until she saw for herself. “What does what’s-his-name say?”
“He…doesn’t have a say anymore.”
“I thought he was every woman’s dream of a perfect guy.”
“Where did you hear that?” she asked, her tone a little sharp as she twisted to look at him.
Well, hell. He’d gone and given too much away. He didn't want her to know he’d asked Cassidy McKenna to find out what she’d been up to. He hadn't asked when she’d been gone, had accepted that she was out of his life at that point. But yeah, he’d had a rare moment of weakness, had indulged it. And knew he could never measure up to the man she’d been engaged to.
“Around,” he said, never good at being able to come up with a lie at the drop of a hat.
He was glad she didn't pursue it. “We were able to do a lot of things I never even thought I wanted to do, and I thought, you know, maybe it was what I wanted. But lately I’ve begun to wonder what I really want from life.”
He thought about asking her what had made her question herself. Instead, he lifted her hand from the seat, giving her plenty of chance to pull away. She didn’t, though, and turned to him, sliding across the seat toward him. He hesitated a moment more, feeling her breath against his chin before he brushed his lips over hers.
She tasted the same. How could that be, after all that time? How did he remember? But she was so familiar that he sank into the kiss, taking it deeper, quicker than he might have. Her fingers curled in his hair, her lips parted, her bare leg slid against his jeans, and he wanted to deepen the kiss, wanted to press her to him, to find the intimacy they’d had when they were teenagers, when they’d find escape in each other.
But he didn't want to escape now. At least, he didn't want to use her as an escape. She deserved more. He deserved more. And as much as his body was urging him to lay her beneath him on the seat the way he used to, he curved his hands around her hips and eased her back, finding himself reluctant to break the kiss
.
“At least that hasn't changed,” she said with a soft laugh, straightening and sliding her hands down to his shoulders before she released him to push her own hair out of her face.
He mimicked her movement, his touch lingering on a strand of her hair, needing the contact but not trusting his hands on her skin. “Did you think it would have?”
She gave him one of those smiles women had that made a man crazy, made him wonder what the hell was really going on in her mind, and she slid off of him, back onto the seat.
“So much else has. I wondered.”
“But you expected everything to be the same, right? That’s why you came back?”
She didn't say anything, but the smile disappeared as she buckled into the passenger seat. “Familiar, maybe. Not the same. I’m not the same, so why should everything here be the same?”
So had she come with him because she wanted something familiar? Was that good or bad? He wasn't sure how he felt about that, so he put the car in gear and drove back to town.
Chapter Four
Miranda walked into the bakery the following morning. Even as late as it was, the place was hopping, and the display shelves were emptying out. Three women jostled behind the counter, hurrying to serve the line of people—families, men in jumpsuits, a woman in scrubs. Miranda wondered if she should come back, but she wanted to jump on this opportunity before someone else did. If last night showed her nothing, it showed her that.
She worked her way up to the counter and hoped she had figured out which one was Riley. It was weird, she knew, to want to be roommates with someone she didn't know, had never seen, but people in New York did it all the time. She figured Evansville, Texas was even safer.
“Hey, Riley,” she said to the woman in the red apron with a boot and flowers embroidered on it. “I’m here to answer your ad for a roommate.”
The young woman paused, tissue paper in hand, and Miranda could see her shifting gears. She put the tissue down.
“Um, okay. Who are you?”
“Miranda Bonner. Allison Bonner’s sister.”
Riley frowned. “I guess I didn't know she had a sister.”
“I’ve been in New York City for a few years, but I’m home now.” Already she could feel her blood pressure lowering, her brain shifting from “Where do I need to be tonight?” to just being.
“Um, okay. Well, can we meet, say, around four? Come back here and we’ll go over to the house and you can check it out.”
“Do you have other interested parties?” Miranda needed to know after she agreed.
“I’ve had one other woman, who works at the hospital, but it's a four bedroom house, so that might make things even easier. Are you working?”
“I, ah, that’s my next stop on Monday.”
“What is it you do?”
“I’m a lawyer.”
Riley’s eyebrows went up. “That might come in handy.”
Miranda gave a little chuckle. “That may be the first time I’ve heard that. I’ll come back after work, but I’ll take one of those chocolate filled doughnuts first.”
She returned that afternoon, and while the place wasn't busy, a steady stream of customers still made their way through, despite the depleted stock in the glass case. Miranda took a seat at a table by the window, caught Riley’s gaze. Riley nodded, indicating she’d be over in a minute. Miranda debated ordering one of the iced cookies that looked too pretty to eat. But she’d have more than her quota of sugar for the day.
Probably for the week.
“Hey, sorry about the wait.” Riley approached, wiping her hands on her apron before she sat across from Miranda. “So, Miranda? Cindy Bonner’s daughter?”
Miranda smiled. “You know my mother.” Not that it was a big surprise, in a small town, and her mother seemed to have a hand in everything.
“She’s one of my best customers. She’s here every day.”
Miranda hoped she didn't ruin that relationship by moving in with Riley.
“Did she tell you I was looking for a roommate?”
“No, no, she doesn't know I’m looking. I haven't actually told her I’m staying in town.”
“Why are you staying? I mean, I got the idea that you were living the life in New York City.”
“I’m ready to simplify.”
“And the hottie you were with at the Sagebrush last night? Anything to do with that?”
Miranda blushed, reminding herself that everything was open to interpretation in Evansville. “No, I’m done changing my life for a man.” Especially one she had so much history with. Someone who had so much baggage of his own.
“So there won’t be a lot of company at the house, if we do this?”
“Ah.” Maybe she hadn't thought this through, since she hadn't had a roommate since college. Well, a roommate she wasn't sharing a bed with.
Riley waved a hand and sat back, glancing around the shop. “I have an occasional guest when he’s in from out of town, so it’s not a deal breaker. I just don't want to have two roommates for the price of one, if you get my meaning.”
“If anything comes of it, then we’ll work something else out. I just don't want to say it won’t happen because, well, I don't know.”
“I don’t blame you. Noah Braun is smoking hot. He comes in with his sister now and again, though she’s here every day.”
Miranda wasn't a fan of the way Riley was talking about Noah, so she steered the conversation back to the house. “Do you have a house already, or are you looking at one?”
“I’m looking at one. You want to go see it, to make sure it suits?”
Miranda was more worried about the two of them suiting, but she figured the more time they spent in each other’s company, the sooner they would know.
Riley stood and removed her apron, folding it neatly and leaving it on the back of the chair. “I have crazy early hours, so that might be something to consider, too, if that bothers you. But this house has three bathrooms, too, so maybe it won’t be a problem.”
Miranda was surprised to find it was one of the nicer houses in the main part of town, not far from the house where the mayor Killian Dawson and his sister Maggie had grown up. She hoped the inside looked as good as the outside because she was not skilled at DIY.
“Are you sure we can afford this?” she asked, stepping out of her car to join Riley on the sidewalk. After all, while she had some savings, she didn't have the income to replace it, and wouldn't for a while. Income in Evansville would be a far cry from what she was used to bringing in.
“I’ve got a good deal on it. I know a guy who knows a guy.”
Miranda got the feeling it was indeed a fixer-upper. Together they walked up the sidewalk to the wide front porch.
Riley opened the door to a bare house. The wood floors were new, or newly refinished, but the walls had been stripped of wallpaper and not painted, or repapered, or whatever people did to walls. The staircase to the right of the entryway was sturdy and polished, but the windows in the room beyond were gray with age. The rooms were bigger than Miranda had expected, which made her wonder if someone along the way had removed some walls.
“The bathroom downstairs and the kitchen haven't been updated yet,” Riley said. “We can work around that, though.”
“Don’t you need a kitchen? You’re a baker.”
“It’s functional enough for basic cooking. Anything fancy, we can cook at the bakery, if we need. Or pick up something from the Coyote or the Sagebrush Inn.”
“I’m fine with takeout.” She couldn't remember the last time she cooked a meal. “I just didn't realize we had so many options in Evansville now.”
“We’re becoming a regular metropolis.” Riley grinned. “Want to see the bedrooms?”
Without waiting for an answer, she led the way up the stairs. Miranda wondered how many times she’d been in the house because she seemed to know her way around. Maybe she’d already shown it to prospective roommates. Maybe that nurse she had mentioned.
Miranda doubted any other options in Evansville would. She wouldn't mind using the bathroom in the hall if it was just the two of them. “What’s the rent?”
She grimaced at the answer for her share, and mentally doubled the number and divided by three. It might be worth sharing a bathroom to pay a few hundred less. She thought rent would be cheaper in Evansville, but had forgotten to account for the boom, which made the prices go up substantially as the property owners tried to make money while they could.
“You think we should ask Jolie? Have you met her?” Riley asked.
“I haven’t.”
Riley pulled out her phone. “I’ll tell her to meet us at the Coyote and we can talk and see if we’re a good match.”
*****
“What do you mean you were fired?” Noah glared across the table at his father, and bit back the next question he wanted to ask, What did you do?
“The manager said I was making the customers uncomfortable. No one wanted me to walk their groceries out to their cars, so they put me in the stock room. But the good citizens of Evansville weren't real happy to see me in the aisles of the store, either. So they fired me.”
Real outrage filled Noah. He didn't think he’d feel outrage on his father’s behalf, but he had to say this about the old man—he’d been working hard, and hadn't been late for his shift, hadn't missed an hour of work. “Did you tell your parole officer that?”
The old man lifted a shoulder. “He said it happens, to find something else.”
Which last year wouldn't have been a problem. This year, though, even young healthy men without a record were looking for work elsewhere as oil production slowed. “What are you going to do?”
