The shorter the grass, the happier she would be.
She rose from her bed and stretched with a great yawn, trying to remember something from her dreams.
Half memories of battles won and lost crossed her mind, followed by ghost like images of Brian, smiling at her as he told her how much he looked forward to their friendship, how very dearly he hoped they could be good friends.
Morpheus certainly wasn’t favoring her of late.
Nightmares, dreams of battles and dreams of Brian...
She removed her green silk robe and yawned again, standing naked before the mirrored closets.
Had she gained weight?
No – the mirrors were slightly flawed, bowed, giving the impression that she had. Even so, it would do her good to start working out again.
She hadn’t practiced her tae kwon do since arriving in Waterhen and knew that her flexibility and endurance would suffer if she didn’t get back with her program soon.
But first, she wanted to go grocery shopping.
That and get in some sun.
Comfortable in her total nudity, she walked out unto the balcony of the master bedroom, enjoying the feel of the warm breeze on her bare skin.
Yes, it was going to be a beautiful day.
It was barely ten o’clock and already the sun was offering a pleasant amount of warmth, its light streaming in rays through the windows of the French doors.
She glanced at the water below her, in the river.
There were silvery flashing waves rippling the calm surface.
Today, Miranda felt like the river.
Aggravated, irritation lingering over Brian’s comment about them embarking on a friendship. A beautiful friendship, at that. She was a fool for thinking herself in love with him.
Love. She snorted. What good had love done her, over the years?
No good whatsoever...
Yes, she was annoyed with Brian. Not that she could blame him for being male. A big, dumb Aussie male.
He was an oaf.
Bull-headed.
Sexy.
Too good looking for his own good...
She considered other names and titles for him as she dressed in her little black bikini and matching thong. She decided on a casual pair of denim shorts and the black baby T-shirt with the intricate red butterfly embroidered on the front.
She had bought the T-shirt in Mexico.
It was a trip she had taken with Richard.
Richard.
The bastard.
She removed the T-shirt immediately, threw it as hard as she could into the waste bin and chose an article of clothing that didn’t remind her of him, a whispy green short sleeved shirt.
The shirt was of a sheer see-through material and brought out the lighter flecks in her forest green eyes.
Affixing sandals to her feet, she left the room and headed down the stairs. Brian was there, in the arm chair he favored, watching a TV program.
“G’morning, sunshine. Sleep well?”
“Yes.” She cleared her throat as she descended the last step.
“Plans for today?”
“I have to make a phone call and then I’d like to go grocery shopping.” She told him evenly, her voice betraying nothing of her annoyance with him.
He smiled at her, his grey eyes bright with things unsaid. “I didn’t make breakfast – I wasn’t sure what time you’d be up.”
“I don’t expect you to fend for me,” she told him, tersely. “I can manage perfectly well.”
“In a bad mood today, love?” Brian was hesitant with his second smile, as though trying to determine whether or not he should be smiling.
“No.” She replied in an even tone, as she pulled a bowl from the cupboard.
She located the Special K breakfast cereal and poured some into the bowl.
Milk followed, along with a spoon from the drawer.
She completed each task with absolute concentration, trying to keep Brian from her thoughts.
He had possessed her long enough.
She knew that it was time for her to get over him.
Time to get him out of her life.
Brian rose from the arm chair, concern weighing down his active mind.
When a woman was frowning and still was able to say that she was in a good mood, it made an obvious liar of her.
Miranda had not been overjoyed to see him this morning.
Was she beginning to truly regret his presence here?
Resent him?
Regret all that had happened between them? He hoped not and decided to engage her in conversation, to see if he could determine the origin of the negative vibes he was receiving from her.
“Who are you calling?” He asked pleasantly. “Russ?”
She had considered calling him, time and again but decided each time to punish her uncle with a silent treatment.
Brian had already reported to him that he had informed Miranda of Richard’s activities.
Let Uncle Russ wonder how upset I am, she thought, irritated. I’m not about to give him the satisfaction of knowing!
“No, the boy who’s going to mow the lawn,” she said, with obvious impatience. “Tommy Tyson.”
Brian decided to cut straight to the heart of the matter. “Did I do or say something to piss you off?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She replied tersely, stabbing at her cereal with the spoon. “Kindly elaborate.”
“You seem to be in a sour mood.”
“Do I?”
“I was wondering if there’s anything I might be able to do to put the smile back on your face.”
“Give me back my car keys,” she said, with a huff. “Then we’ll talk smiling.”
He considered laughing but did not. “You’re still upset about that?”
“Very,” she lied.
It wasn’t her main concern.
Not at the moment.
She didn’t have anywhere she wanted to go anyway, except to the store and maybe fishing later that night. She stepped around Brian, caught a whiff of his cologne and felt her knees threaten to buckle.
Finding the strength, she kept walking, straight away to the dining room table.
She sat down and concerned herself with eating.
Brian was still fascinated by her crabby attitude.
Could she not see that everything he did was with her interests in mind? She hadn’t voiced a lot of concern over her assignment to him, yet. Only the occasional complaint over the ownership of her car keys...
He had to wonder at the way she kept her attention fixed on her bowl of cereal. Staring into it as though it were not Special K but Alpha Bits that would reveal to her the secrets of the Universe.
There was something she wasn’t telling him...
His gut impulse was to take her by the arms and shake it out of her.
Women! Of all things, their silence was most condemning...and she was condemning him now, he could tell.
What had he done wrong?
“I’ll tell you what,” he said, taking the chair opposite her. She did not raise her eyes from her cereal and he wondered at that. Why was she putting the blinders on like this? “I’ll let you do the driving, from here on in.”
“So you’re giving me back my keys?” She looked up at him then, a quirky grin on her lips.
“No, I’m letting you drive. The keys are to remain in my possession.”
She rolled her green eyed gaze at him. “Figures, that there’d be a catch.”
“Sorry. I have standards to maintain.”
“You didn’t bring the gun with you to the Clarions’.” She stirred her cereal. “Are you going to be taking it with you today?”
“Why? Worried I might blow my cover?”
“No, I’m worried that you might needlessly scare the locals.”
“I’ll leave it here, if you like,” he offered, with a shrug. “It’s only a precaution, anyway.”
Her eyes clouded over sudde
nly. “Have you ever used it?”
“Yes.”
“Oh.” She looked back down at her cereal and rubbed at her neck. Her lips curled into a frown.
“Stiff?” He longed to touch her, to soothe her upset.
“A little,” she confessed, glancing back up at him.
“Care for a massage?” He offered, flexing his fingers. “I’ve been told I’m quite good.”
She didn’t doubt that he was.
She knew, quite well, the magic of his fingers.
But she didn’t want him touching her.
Not if they were going to be just friends.
“No thanks.”
“Suit yourself, love. Offer stands, all you need do is ask.”
They left for the Tyson Prairie Emporium after booking Tommy for a six o’clock grass cutting.
Miranda was surprised to see Betty behind the counter. “Betty, I thought you said you had the weekends off?”
Betty pushed her heavy glasses further up her nose. “Sara and Albert left an hour ago to Winnipegosis to visit George’s mother. She’s fallen down again. George went with them.”
“So that’s why Tommy’s working until six?” Miranda asked, looking around for the enthusiastic teenager.
“Yup.” Betty looked over Brian, from head to toe. “Who’s this you’ve brought with you?”
“This is Brian, my brother.” The necessary lie rolled easily off of her tongue.
“H’lo,” said Brian, extending a hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
Betty took his hand and grinned. “Likewise. You know, Russ never mentioned that he had a nephew.” Her grin broadened. “And what an accent you have. Australian?”
“Good guess.” He replied, gazing around the store. “You sure have a lot of stock in this store, for so small a town.”
“We serve Skownan, the reserve on the other side of the river, Meadow Portage and Mallard, as well as Waterhen,” Betty explained, adjusting her glasses again. She spotted her son in the bread aisle. “Tommy, get Miranda a cart.”
“I can manage, Betty, thanks,” Miranda assured her, saving the boy the task. “Hi, Tommy.”
“Hey, Miranda.” The freckle faced boy smiled up at her. “Still need me for six?”
“Absolutely.” She took a cart and Brian followed her, so tall that he had to duck beneath a support beam exposed in the low ceiling. She consulted the small list she had made after breakfast: “Potato chips, popcorn, eggs, water, bacon, ginger ale, rye bread butter. Bait and fishing licenses. Anything else?”
“Caesar salad dressing and fixings,” he said, as they entered the aisle. “I’ll make us a chicken Caesar salad for supper.”
“Croutons, too, then.” She added it to her list. She considered the dairy case. “How many pounds of bacon should we get?”
“Three if you don’t intend to go to the store for a while?”
“Sounds good to me.” She opened the fridge. Cool air rushed to greet her. She sought out two dozen eggs and three pounds of bacon and set them in the cart. “There.”
Brian surprised her by leaning very close to her ear and whispering, “Your nipples are getting hard, love.”
“Brian!” She exclaimed, as his warm breath tingled her ear. She quieted her voice to a whisper: “You’re supposed to be my brother?”
“That’s why I said it so quietly, Miranda.” His eyes were as teasing as his tones. “You’re lovely when you blush, you know that?”
“Oh, go stuff yourself,” she seethed, disturbed by the effects his comment had on her libido.
How dare he arouse her in public like that!
He was so crude!
So male!
And yet, his honesty had turned her on...
They finished their shopping in near silence, Brian pushing the cart while Miranda led the way.
Their groceries tallied, Miranda chatted pleasantly for a moment with Betty.
“Betty, you wouldn’t happen to know Ben Clarion’s favorite wine, would you?” She asked, peering at the liquor display behind the storekeeper.
“As a matter of fact, I do. Why do you ask?”
“He and Mabel invited us out for supper on the houseboat. I was hoping to bring something, as a token of my appreciation.”
“Well, Ben, he loves his Gallo Family white zinfandel.” Betty pointed at the bottles she spoke of. “Comes in the smaller size or the larger, which do you prefer?”
“The larger,” said Brian, for Miranda. “The man really likes his wine.”
“Don’t we all?” Betty laughed, who fetched the bottle and brown-bagged it. “I’ll add this to your Uncle’s account.”
“By the way, Betty,” Miranda remembered, as they headed for the door with their purchases. “Tell George I’m sorry to hear about his mother and that I wish her well.”
“I’ll tell him that.” Betty grinned. “Have a nice day.”
“You too.” Miranda called over her shoulder.
While Miranda put the groceries away in the kitchen, Brian was constantly under her foot.
His thigh would brush hers and she would begin to tingle.
His hand would brush hers and again and she would start to tingle.
His breath would rush against her skin and again and she would begin to tingle.
Frustrated by the sexual hunger that had begun to build within her, she snapped at him: “Will you please just get out of my way?”
“Certainly.” He replied, hurt evident in his stormy grey eyes.
Clearly, she was irritated with him.
But why?
That was what Brian wanted to know.
“Got any other plans for today, love?”
“Relaxing,” she sighed, “Relaxing and more relaxing.”
“Rest and respite, huh?”
“They’re one and the same, I’m told, rest and respite.”
She bent over to remove her sandals and set them near the black leather sectional. Removed her wisp of a green shirt and draped it over the arm of the couch.
Her denim shorts followed.
Brian’s appetite for her was growing inch by inch with every inch of creamy ivory skin she revealed.
“Should I begin stripping too,” he began teasingly, “Or?”
“I’m going to lie in the sun for a while,” she replied, her tone dismissive. “It’s nearly twelve. The sun’s perfect for sunbathing.”
She took the large Navajo blanket from the couch and folded it over her arm. “Brian, I’ll be back inside in an hour or so.”
She had covered herself in bug spray and sunscreen earlier and so left the confines of the cabin, draping her blanket on the verandah outside.
She laid herself down on the blanket, chest up, closed her eyes and began to revel in the warmth of the sun and the nature sounds coming from all around her.
There were the throaty noises of the frogs, the sharper calls of the seagulls, the music of the breeze through the reeds that bordered the shore...
Her reverie was interrupted by the sound of the French doors opening.
It wasn’t long after that she felt Brian’s heavy footsteps on the verandah and then heard the shifting of his weight in the creaky wooden Adirondack styled chair that adorned it.
“It’d be a shame to burn such flawless skin.”
His warning tone annoyed her.
“I’m wearing sunscreen, if it’s any of your business,” she informed him cooly.
“I’m just saying, back home I’ve seen my share of ivory skinned tourists turn lobster red under a sun like this.”
“This isn’t Australia, this is Northern Canada, big difference.”
“Back to the Ice Queen tactics, hmm love?”
Love.
How many times had he called her that?
Love.
It was a cruel joke.
Her heart ached every time he said it, knowing that he meant it in such a casual way...
“I really wish you’d stop calling me that,” she groaned.
>
“What, Ice Queen?”
“No, love.”
“Well I call all women love, love. Force of habit.”
“Well quit it,” she seethed. “It’s annoying.”
“Yes ma’am.” He replied, amused by her change of mood as much as he was irritated and mystified by it.
A long silence passed between them. “You don’t have to babysit me, you know.”
“It’s my job. And besides, I rather enjoy watching you.”
“Lucky me,” she quipped, with a burdened sigh.
Brian had just about had enough of her bitchy retorts and mercurial emotions. What was with her – did she have a period coming up early or something?
“Who pissed in your corn flakes, love?”
She squinted at him through her left eye and was nearly blinded by the sun.
“What do you mean by that?”
“You seem a tad off today,” he began, settling into the Adirondack chair. “A bit bitchy, maybe.”
“Bitchy?” Miranda laughed.
“Bitchy.” He maintained, in his rich baritone voice.
His voice did wonderful things to her body...
“I didn’t sleep well.”
“Then you lied to me earlier, when I asked-”
“Can’t you just be quiet, please?” She asked, annoyed.
“Quiet?”
“Shh. Listen to the water, the waterfowl, the frogs.”
“Lovely.”
“Nature’s very lovely.”
“I was talking about you.”
“Shh.”
The sun was so warm, so relaxing.
She did not have to look at Brian to know that he was watching her.
His gaze had a most arousing effect, as intimate as a caress, a kiss...
Long minutes of silence passed.
She assumed he was going to respect her request for peace and quiet.
“Your nipples are getting hard again.”
She opened her eyes to stare at him incredulously. “God, Brian can you shut up for once – just please, shut up?”
“Alright, alight.” He shrugged his surrender. “But I can’t help it if you turn me on.”
“Well, you could be more subtle about it.”
Miranda closed her eyes, tightly blocking out the sun and the image of Brian smiling at her.
He remained silent and so she was able to focus on naught but the sounds around her.
Guarding Miranda Page 18
