Gypsy tsked. “Miranda, you should be building your base now, before you’ve even started your business. Then you’ll be ahead of the curve once it’s off the ground. Seriously, you guys, if I can do it, anyone can do it.”

Miranda took a long drink, closed her eyes, and let the sweetness slide down her throat. She hummed in pleasure, and her body released some tension.

“Maybe it’s not rocket science,” Elaina said with a heavy dose of attitude, “but it might as well be Greek.”

Miranda started laughing and almost choked on her drink. At least she had Marty and Elaina as a buffer from Gypsy.

She opened her eyes and let her gaze rest on the low flames dancing in the firepit. It was a beautiful night, still and quiet. Just the tranquility Miranda needed. If only Gypsy hadn’t shown up.

While Marty and Gypsy continued to talk about growth plans for the bar, Miranda reached out and gave Elaina’s arm a squeeze. “How was your day?”

Elaina covered Miranda’s hand with her own. The woman reminded Miranda of an elderly sprite. Strangers easily mistook her small frame for frailty. Though Miranda had seen the woman use that perception to her advantage, the truth was she and Marty were cut from the same cloth. Tough. Persistent. Survivors.

“Oh, fine, sweetheart,” Elaina said. “Gypsy has been great company. You two look so much alike. You must both look like your mother.”

Gypsy had obviously been discussing their family history. Miranda had always hated explaining that she, Gypsy, and Dylan all had different fathers. It was so stereotypical white-trash-ish. But there was no escaping the truth. And, ironically, out of the three of them, Miranda was the one that fit the stereotype best. She’d never known her father, dropped out of high school, never moved away from home, and she’d nursed her neglectful, addicted mother through a slow, ugly death from cirrhosis.

That was Miranda’s reality. All she could do was her best to rise above and prove the stereotype wrong. Though when she scrutinized her life, she wasn’t sure she was succeeding.

When Gypsy and Marty’s conversation turned to travel, Miranda was once again adrift at sea with no compass. They compared notes on places they’d visited all around the world—Marty through the military, Gypsy with her father and her father’s second family. Germany, Italy, Japan. All of it reminded Miranda she’d never even traveled outside Tennessee.

Marty stood and moved to the barbeque to tend the meat, and Gypsy followed, topping off her drink.

Elaina leaned in and murmured, “Tell me about the boy. And don’t spare nothin’. I gotta live vicariously you know.”

Miranda grinned, half at Elaina’s spunk, half at the thought of sharing Jack’s deliciousness with someone. Her mind drifted to Violet’s messages telling Miranda he’d come in the last two nights looking for her. Even if she’d wanted to see him again, she’d been too busy avoiding Gypsy to have the energy. At least, that was what she kept telling herself.

“Well,” she said, “he is—was—amazing. But he’s a Yankee. He’ll be moving on soon.”

“What’s he doing here?”

“Helping out family.”

“Then he’s not one-hundred-percent Yankee, is he? With family here, he’s got a tie that could bring him back. Haven’t seen you glow like this in a long time, baby.”

Elaina’s comment piqued Miranda’s curiosity. “Marty said something similar the other day. What is so different about me?”

“It’s one of those subtle things,” Elaina said. “Eyes a little brighter, smile a little quicker. I can tell that Yankee was something special.”

That was the same sense Miranda had about Jack from the start. There was a unique spark between them. A lingering pull tugged deep inside her.

She glanced toward the barbeque. When she found Marty and Gypsy keenly focused on their own conversation, Miranda leaned a little closer and lowered her voice. “Do you believe two strangers can instantly connect? Not that love-at-first-sight crap, but an honest click with someone right away?”

“I know you can,” Elaina said. “Some of my dearest and longest friendships started as an instant connection. Marty’s father always told me it was love at first sight between him and me. I didn’t believe in it then either, but looking back, I know he was right. Is that how you feel about your Yankee?”

Miranda just smiled, not willing to commit. She was juggling way too many foreign ideas at the moment.

“When will you see him again?” Elaina asked.

Miranda shook her head. “New York may as well be Alaska for me. I don’t have the time, money, or interest in a long-distance relationship. No sense in letting things linger between us.”

“What about when he comes back to town to visit his family?”

She shrugged. “I’m not going to throw my heart after that kind of maybe. Besides, we’re not exactly made of the same stock, you know? He’s Ivy League, white collar, good family.”

“Miranda Wright.” Elaina’s tone scolded. “Don’t you dare talk down about yourself. You’re one of the most remarkable women I’ve ever known.”

Miranda smiled. Praise was something she’d missed out on growing up, but Elaina had always showered her with it. Miranda had to admit, it felt good, even if she didn’t believe she deserved it.

Tags: Skye Jordan The Wrights Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net