Unbridled (Unlikely Lovers)

by Brooks, Cheryl

  “I’ll do that. Later.” He switched off his phone and put the truck in gear, only then realizing he could have followed Miranda home if he’d left when she did. Of course, her husband probably would’ve killed him, but at least he’d be out of his misery.

  * * * *

  Rain was coming down in buckets by the time Miranda got home, and Kira’s broad hooves left prints big enough to plant trees in as she trotted across the yard to the pasture gate. Although colder weather would undoubtedly cause other problems, Miranda could hardly wait for the ground to freeze.

  The heavy downpour pounded the barn’s metal roof with a deafening roar that masked the sound of their approach from the horses inside. “It’s okay, guys,” she told the startled animals. “It’s just me and Kira. No need to get all bent out of shape.”

  Then it was her turn to get bent out of shape when she realized she was standing in the middle of a lake. Grumbling, she pulled off Kira’s halter and blanket and sloshed her way to the tack room. Unlike the aisle, which had been packed down by the horses over time, the slightly higher floor of the tack room was still relatively dry. Miranda had raised the floor level in the stalls with rock dust and rubber mats. The aisle was another story.

  Water tended to pool in the center where the ground was lowest and couldn’t run out the front end and back down the hill without help. Digging a trench around the barn diverted some of the water, but Miranda’s puny little ditch couldn’t handle the deluge that ran down from the hill above the barn during a strong storm. Armed with a push-broom and a water pump, she trudged out into the lake to drain it before it turned into a muddy mess.

  The horses were still too agitated to work around, so she opened up the stalls and let them in while she cleared out the water. Running an extension cord down to the trench she’d dug across the rear doorway, she plugged it into the outlet in the tack room, which was currently the only outlet in the main aisle that actually worked.

  After flinging the drain hose out to the main ditch, she went to work with the broom, sweeping the water out of the front end of the barn. She’d tried digging a channel for it to run down the hill on its own, but the horses and the weather kept filling it back in. It was a never-ending battle—and Miranda was losing.

  She had almost gotten all of the water out when the rain, which had slacked off while she was working, picked up again. She watched in despair as a vast sheet of water cascaded down the hill and came rushing through the door, sloshing her already soaked boots. She wanted to lay down and cry, but let out a frustrated scream instead. Kira nickered at her.

  “Yeah, I know,” she muttered. “When it rains, it pours, right?”

  With a groan, she picked up her broom and started all over again. To make matters worse, she was scheduled to work at the hospital that night. “So much for my nap…”

  Chapter 6

  By 2 AM, Miranda felt as though she would keel over and die if she didn’t get a little sleep. Lola and Mary Beth were working with her, which normally meant her shift would go smoothly—and it had—until they got a call from Adrian in the ER.

  “We’ve got a patient with a blood alcohol level so high the doc’s afraid he might have a seizure, so he’s being admitted rather than going to jail.” Adrian sounded apologetic, but Miranda knew she was probably tickled to death to be getting rid of the guy.

  “Just what we need.” Miranda’s patient was on a ventilator and nicely sedated. The others were asleep. A loud drunk would wake up the whole unit.

  “You shouldn’t have any trouble with him,” Adrian assured her. “He duked it out with the police at the bar where they picked him up, but he’s been pretty quiet since he got here. He’ll probably sleep it off.”

  “Okay. Let me give you to Mary Beth. She gets first admit tonight.” Miranda handed the phone to Mary Beth with a grimace. “Sorry.”

  Mary Beth rolled her eyes as she took the receiver. She didn’t say much as she wrote down the report, but looked like she wanted to cry by the time she hung up the phone. “This is not going to be fun.”

  Their new patient arrived on the unit quietly enough. Unfortunately, as soon as they slid him from the stretcher to the bed, he woke up. “Wha’ ya’ doin’ tha’ for?”

  The alcohol fumes were so strong Miranda figured she’d get drunk simply from being in the same room with him. “Just moving you over to the bed.”

  “How come?”

  “So you can get some sleep.”

  “How come?”

  Miranda could already see where this was going, and after he’d said “How come?” for the umpteenth time, even Mary Beth, whose patience was legendary, seemed irritated. Lola, on the other hand, was giggling uncontrollably as she tried to take his blood pressure. Adrian had already fled the scene.

  When the high-pressure alarm on her patient’s ventilator went off, Miranda hurried from the room, grateful for the interruption. The same alarm that had been driving her crazy earlier was now music to her ears. Unfortunately, she could still hear the drunk saying “How come?” every ten seconds.

  By the time Miranda had her man settled down again, Lola, who was normally level-headed and completely unflappable, had stopped giggling and was now tight-lipped and scowling. Sweet, kind, lovely Mary Beth had murder in her eyes. “I don’t suppose we’ve got any sedation ordered for him, do we?”

  Miranda flipped through the ER record and found the admitting orders. “Zero point five of Ativan every six hours—”

  Lola let out a groan. “We might as well spit on him.”

  “—and he already had a dose less than an hour ago,” Miranda continued.

  Mary Beth shook her head sadly. “We are so screwed.”

  The drunk attempted to sit up, head lolling and arms flailing. “How come?”

  Mary Beth pushed him back down without hesitation. “Please tell me we at least have an order for restraints.”

  Miranda grinned. “Yes, we do. Leathers if we need them.”

  “Thank God for small favors,” Lola said. “Hurry up and get them before he falls out of bed. If he hurts himself, we’ll have to keep him longer.”

  Miranda didn’t hurry. She ran.

  * * * *

  Miranda came home the next morning to a flooded barn, and it took almost an hour to get all the water out. When she finally climbed into bed, although she still had ventilator alarms and “How come?” ringing in her ears, she had finally hit on a solution to the Travis problem. She would invite him to her Christmas party.

  Every year Miranda threw a party for the hospital gang and several other friends—including Christina and Tracy. Travis wouldn’t be the lone male, and he could meet her friends without any pressure—especially if she didn’t tell him why she’d invited him. He would be free to pick and choose as he liked, although she hoped he wouldn’t fall for Tracy. Miranda didn’t think she could handle that, no matter how cute their names sounded together.

  Christina had already called to make sure Mark wouldn’t show up with his new woman. Although Mark had other plans for that evening, Miranda wished that having one of them as a guest didn’t automatically exclude the other. Mark had been a good friend for years, and Miranda hadn’t seen much of him since he’d found his new love. This year, however, Christina needed a party far more than Mark did, particularly if Miranda could talk Travis into coming.

  * * * *

  After working all night Thanksgiving Eve, Miranda came home, baked a pumpkin pie, put together a broccoli casserole to bake later on, stuffed the turkey, put it in the oven, and went to bed. The turkey was done when she got up, and Levi was already in the living room watching The Muppet Christmas Carol.

  “Starting a little early, aren’t you?” she asked. “We usually watch that after dinner.”

  “Yeah, I know, but I have to go home after we eat the turkey.”

  She stared at him, open-mouthed. “You mean you aren’t spending the night?”

  He shook his head. “I have to work tomorrow. I need
to go home.”

  He’d had to say it twice before it sank in.

  Home.

  Home used to be her house, now it was his apartment. She closed her eyes, biting her lip, trying her damndest to keep from crying. Now that he was older, he looked more like Kris than ever—same green eyes, same blond hair, same funny little grin. Although she rejoiced at his independence, at the same time, she wanted to keep him there with her forever.

  “Okay, if you have to… I’m going up to the barn to feed the horses now. Everyone else should be here soon.” She put the casserole in the oven, then changed into her barn clothes and headed out.

  She trudged toward the barn while the dogs raced on ahead. She’d always known this would happen someday—the day when Levi left the nest for good—she just hadn’t thought it would happen on Thanksgiving.

  To make matters worse, it was raining again.

  The rest of the family arrived. Her parents, Darlene and Stephen Richards, both in their mid-sixties, were enjoying their recent retirement. Tracy at least seemed happy, but then she usually did, even when she’d gotten herself mixed up with another jerk. The baby of the family at thirty—and in Miranda’s opinion, the prettiest—Tracy’s experiences with men were largely responsible for Miranda’s continued determination not to remarry. The stuff that happened to her was enough to curl anyone’s hair, and Miranda probably should have introduced her to Travis without further delay, if for no other reason than to prove to her sister there really was such a thing as a nice man.

  She reminded herself that they would meet soon enough if they both came to her Christmas party. Three weeks. Three short weeks and she could kiss Travis York goodbye forever. Tracy was pretty and charming; men fell for her all the time, though not the right sort of men. Some of them had been certifiably insane. She really can pick ’em… She would be a better match for Travis than Christina. The idea should have made her happy, but it didn’t. Not at all.

  Miranda gave her mother a hug. “Heard anything from the guys?”

  “They said they’d call in a little bit.” Darlene sniffled. “I wish they hadn’t moved so far away after they married. I still miss them.”

  Craig was in Fort Worth and Darryl lived in Tucson. Both her brothers were younger than Miranda, and she still couldn’t picture them as being grown up with families of their own.

  I’m as bad as Mom.

  “Don’t listen to her,” Stephen said. “We’re going to visit them—Craig at Christmas and Darryl at New Year’s. Tracy’s coming with us.”

  Miranda blinked. That meant she and Levi would be the only ones left in town for Christmas. “Why, th–that’s wonderful. I had no idea.”

  “Spur of the moment,” Stephen said with a casual wave. “That’s the sort of thing we retirees can do.”

  Miranda didn’t think either of her parents looked anywhere near old enough to retire. Her father was still fit and trim and his gray hair looked darn good on him. Darlene had picked up weight in recent years, but she still had the same sweet smile as always—something Tracy had inherited.

  “Sounds like fun. Wish I could go with you.”

  Tracy’s eyes danced. “I’m surprised I was able to go. I still can’t believe they decided to close the clinic for the holidays.”

  Miranda couldn’t believe it, either. Nurses never got off for the holidays, at least not those who worked in hospitals. Tracy worked in an outpatient procedure clinic, changing catheters, giving IV antibiotics, even putting in PICC lines. She hadn’t pulled a night shift in years, and now she didn’t have to work the holidays. “Must be nice.”

  “Sure is,” Tracy said. “You ought to get a job there.”

  “I’ll give it some thought.”

  The dinner went well—even though Miranda felt like a zombie. She was happy for her family, she truly was, but they seemed to be dissipating right before her eyes. She’d always prided herself on her independence and reminded herself that nothing ever stayed the same for long, but still…

  To top it all off, here she was, trying to get Travis out of her life.

  What was I thinking?

  * * * *

  Thanksgiving with his family was the same as always—everyone else in the clan with their loving spouses and children, and Travis by himself. Except this year, he had Stuart to commiserate with. Shelley was the farthest thing from his thoughts, but Miranda was right there with him. He could see her fitting in with the crowd, and his mother would be so happy he’d finally found someone, she’d have overlooked the age difference entirely. Well…maybe for a little while.

  The topic was bound to come up sooner or later. Still, if he was happy with Miranda, he doubted that anyone would object. Besides, it was none of their damn business who he dated.

  Who am I kidding?

  Everyone would at least have an opinion, especially his dad. He would have pushed for Shelley if he’d known anything about her, which was why Travis was determined not to mention her existence.

  If he’d been strongly attracted to Shelley, he could’ve danced to her tune and probably wound up married to her, but the heat simply wasn’t there. He couldn’t imagine her as a lover—at least, not the kind of lover he wanted. Although settling for Shelley might get him a wife, he couldn’t help thinking he’d end up being miserable, which was no way to feel about a potential spouse. He’d held out this long waiting for someone who knocked his socks off.

  Too bad it happened to be Miranda.

  Chapter 7

  Travis seemed pleasantly surprised to be invited to Miranda’s Christmas party. However, his expression quickly sobered when she gave him a quick overview of the guest list.

  “Should I bring Shelley?” Judging from his pained expression, this prospect was about as exciting as a root canal.

  “If you’d like. I thought you two had called it quits.”

  “Not officially. I could still ask her.” Travis hesitated, then shook his head. “No. It’s better if I come alone.”

  Miranda wasn’t sure why he thought that and didn’t particularly care. As she saw it, he had four choices. In addition to Tracy and Christina, Mary Beth and Dana were both single and about his age. Tracy was pretty, but Christina had her beat for beauty. Dana was cute and giggly, and Mary Beth was very nice, in addition to being totally hot, according to Rodney, who worked in Radiology. He always said he would marry her himself, if only his wife would let him.

  The weeks leading up to the party were hectic, both at work and at home. Heavy rain continued to fall on a regular basis, with the result that Miranda’s water pump and broom were in constant use. She put her Christmas tree up right on schedule, but was still engaged in the last-minute preparations when Travis came to the door with a bottle of wine and a heart-stopping smile.

  “Merry Christmas!” Grinning, he gave her a hug that almost made her forget she’d only invited him so he could meet her friends.

  “Yeah, well, here, let me put that wine in the fridge.” Still reeling from the embrace and totally flustered at the thought of being alone with him, she turned away, pressing a hand to her chest as though it might calm her erratic heartbeat. She led the way to the kitchen, leaving him to follow.

  “Is Levi here? I’d like to meet him.”

  Opening the refrigerator, she rearranged a few things and slid the wine bottle inside. “No, he’s working this weekend. He doesn’t care for parties, anyway. Crowds bother him—especially people he doesn’t know very well.”

  Levi hadn’t visited much lately. He seemed happy, which was the most important thing, but the way he’d referred to his apartment as home still bugged her. She closed the fridge and stole a glance at Travis.

  A slow smile spread across his lips. “I guess that means I have you all to myself for a while.”

  Miranda stifled a gasp, turning it into a cough. “Funny thing about throwing a party. No one ever seems to show up on time. Obviously you don’t believe in being fashionably late.”

  He shook his head
slowly. “No point in that. If someone goes to the trouble of having a party, the least the guests can do is not leave the hostess twiddling her thumbs.”

  “No time for that yet.” She forced a laugh. “I’m still cooking.”

  “Gives you something to do while you wait?”

  “Something like that.” She glanced around the room hoping a solution to the awkward moment would present itself. Then her hostess mode kicked in and she offered him a drink. “I’ve got hot cider, spiced tea, beer, wine, and stuff for mixed drinks.”

  “Cider sounds good. Smells good, too.”

  Ladling the cider into a cup, she passed it to him with hands that shook.

  She could hardly wait to see him snuggled up on the couch with Christina and hanging on her every word. As beautiful as Christina was, he might not even notice her lack of wit or that she couldn’t discuss her work. What would they talk about? Her breakup with Mark?

  With that cheery thought, Miranda went back to making sausage-cheese balls—doing her best to ignore the fact that Travis was standing beneath a sprig of mistletoe.

  He leaned against the counter, sipping his cider, no doubt oblivious to the temptation hanging above him. No one else would be there for at least another half hour. She could kiss him and no one would ever know. Hot, stolen kisses with Travis… She glanced down at the gooey mess of sausage, grated cheese, and biscuit dough she was mixing together with her hands.

  My, how romantic…

  “So, which one of your friends are you trying to fix me up with?”

  Miranda’s cat, Jade, strolled into the kitchen, her black coat gleaming and her tail waving gently. She looked up at Travis as though comparing him to some ideal, then took a few steps forward and sniffed at his pant leg before rubbing her head against him and purring. She turned to Miranda and blinked slowly. Don’t fix him up with anyone, she seemed to say. He smells nice. Keep him for yourself.

  Ignoring Jade’s apparent suggestion, Miranda froze for an instant, her hands buried in the dough. “Whatever gave you that idea? You’re simply here as a friend of mine, just like everyone else.”