That Reckless Night

They started back down the mountain trail and for a while there was nothing but the sound of their feet hitting the ground as they traversed the uneven terrain. Jeremiah enjoyed the silence and the company and he wasn’t above hoping that he and Miranda could build a solid friendship, though at this point he was being realistic about the chances of that happening. As much as he talked a good game about putting the recent events behind them and starting fresh, it was hard as hell not to stare at her backside and remember how it felt to have that pert, rounded flesh gripped in his palms. Sweat popped along his brow that wasn’t caused by the exertion, and as he wiped it away, he half growled at himself to keep his thoughts on the straight and narrow before he ended up twisting an ankle and looking like a total fool.

He managed to fill his thoughts with the paperwork he needed to go through when they returned, but about halfway down Miranda asked, “So what’s the real reason you came to Alaska?” and he lost control of his thoughts again.

The question hung between them as if it were a living breathing thing, and Jeremiah supposed the truth would come out sooner or later, but he wasn’t quite ready to talk about Tyler. “Needed a change of scenery.” He flashed her a bright smile. “Alaska seemed like a good place.”

She accepted his answer and they kept walking, but her question rang in his mind and dampened his good mood. The urge to tell her about Tyler was an irritant in his mind. It niggled at him and dragged his thoughts into dark places. By the time they reached the car his mood had dipped into melancholy.

* * *

MIRANDA SENSED THE ENERGY change between them, and while she desperately wanted to know what had triggered the change, that small voice inside of her warned it wasn’t her business. The man was allowed his secrets. He was a virtual stranger; there was probably plenty she didn’t know about him, nor did she need to know.

“Have you found a place to stay?” The inquiry was meant to be polite—wasn’t that the sort of thing people talked about in superficial circles?—but she really should have thought her question through before asking. She should’ve asked something more vague, more impersonal. Perhaps, was he enjoying the weather? But the question was out there and she couldn’t very well take it back, so she simply waited for his answer.

Jeremiah bit off a short sigh. “No, not yet. Seems there is a shortage of rentals. I’m staying at a small motel that’s more of a tourist trap than something suitable for my needs.”

“I can ask around for you,” she offered. Without connections the man would likely be sleeping in a hotel bed until spring. “Any preferences?”

“Anything fully furnished would be great. When I left Wyoming, I left everything behind.”

“You didn’t bring anything with you?”

“Just a suitcase full of clothes and shoes. I figured anything I needed I could find here.”

Miranda’s mind picked at his statement. She appreciated the benefit to packing light, but when you uproot your entire life to move to another state wouldn’t you want to bring some mementos of your previous life? Unless whatever he was leaving behind was something he didn’t want to remember. Damn. She hated that she wanted to know more, almost needed to know more. “I’m guessing a one-bedroom studio would work?”

He nodded. “That would be perfect.”

Mary’s brother, Otter, dabbled in real estate. He fancied himself an investor and had a few rentals. Seeing as Otter had always had a thing for her, Miranda might be able to put in a good word for Jeremiah.

They reached the car and climbed in, made small talk that was nearly excruciating as Miranda hated useless chitchat, and by the time they were returned to the office, it was time to go home. She wasn’t surprised when Jeremiah went to his office with the plan to work late. She admired his dedication, his drive. Virgil had been a clock puncher. Not that she’d blamed him entirely. He’d been an older man who enjoyed his recreation more than the time spent at the office. Mary always liked to point out that no one had the same kind of passion that Miranda did. As Miranda shut down her computer and saw the light burning in Jeremiah’s office, she realized Jeremiah was probably her work twin.

She chuckled at the irony and headed to the after-school day care to pick up Talen.

Later that night after she’d scrubbed the mud from behind her son’s ears, she was grateful for the distraction of his usual bartering for a later bedtime because otherwise Jeremiah’s voice remained in her thoughts.

He’d compared her to a difficult puzzle that most people gave up on. How had he managed to find such an apt way to describe her life? Maybe it wasn’t that people gave up on her, but rather, the other way around? She kept people at a distance for a reason—no one could hurt her if she didn’t stand within their swinging radius.