That Reckless Night
Jeremiah closed his eyes, patently ignoring her dig, which only further incensed her, but she chose to swallow the rest of the tirade she felt brewing. Good, she told herself. This simplified matters by half. She’d been worried how she was going to deny herself his company when they’d plainly been so good together between the sheets, but now he’d taken care of that problem quite nicely. Thank you very much.
She certainly agreed with Jeremiah on one point—that stupid plow couldn’t get here soon enough!
* * *
HOW COULD HE let his libido get in the way of the facts? They weren’t two consenting adults without obligations and responsibilities and she wasn’t available to him in any way possible. He should’ve been stronger than his desire and put a kibosh on the heat level between them the minute he felt it spark to life.
Miranda had a son. He couldn’t imagine a bigger obstacle between them, and yet, in the moment, he’d completely blitzed past the fact because he’d been crazed with lust for the woman. He didn’t want her to have a son and, therefore, his brain had conveniently shelved that information in the far back recesses of his mind.
He’d seriously screwed up this time. The rules had been tipped upside down and backward. Sleeping together the first time had been an innocent mistake, and the knowledge that she had a son hadn’t come into play because they’d both agreed it couldn’t happen again. Now he couldn’t deny the attraction burning between them, which was a bigger problem than dealing with an unfortunate error in judgment.
He bracketed his forehead with his fingers, squeezing. Talen was younger than Tyler but close enough in age to have commonalities. He couldn’t handle being around kids right now. Just couldn’t face them knowing his was gone.
It was why he’d left his last job. A fresh start was a bonus and a really good excuse. The fact of the matter was, Jeremiah had been charged with overseeing the Junior Ranger program that his old boss had engineered knowing full well about his tragedy. He’d hated himself but he’d practically begged to be let off that assignment, to hand it off to someone else, but she’d been adamant. A part of him wondered if she’d hoped that he would quit, because immediately after he’d accepted the position in Alaska, the man she’d been seeing had been selected as his replacement. Jeremiah hadn’t cared, though. He’d been ready to escape and he was glad to put Wyoming behind him. Besides, he figured the evil hag would realize soon enough that she’d been used to get the job and that would be punishment enough.
But now the woman he was insanely attracted to—that he’d harbored secret thoughts about pursuing in a legitimate fashion—posed a bigger issue in his life than he was ready to admit.
And she thought his attitude was because he hated kids.... If it were that simple, he’d just admit it, but he couldn’t actually share the true reason. Literally. His mouth simply wouldn’t open and allow the words to spill. His grief over Tyler had taken a toxic turn and he knew it was festering inside of him but he was helpless to stop the spread of infection. And he really didn’t want to drag Miranda into his quagmire. It wasn’t fair to her.
Yeah, try and act as if you’re being altruistic in your cold rejection.
Disgust at his own pathetic weakness choked him until he was blinking away panic. She was peppering him with short, angry comments, but even as he sensed the hurt, he couldn’t bring himself to explain.
It was better this way. They shouldn’t be temping fate anyway. From this moment forward, no more inappropriate mental walkabouts where Miranda was concerned. No more thoughts or actions that weren’t completely grounded in professionalism.
Miranda, realizing he wasn’t going to take the bait, quieted and the silence cut deeper than her anger, but he withstood it with stoic resolve. In time, they’d both see how he was doing them a favor.
By the time the plow arrived and cleared the road so Miranda could pull free, Jeremiah escaped the confines of the Range Rover with a flimsy excuse that he would ride with the plow driver. Miranda cut him a short glance and didn’t say a word.
She didn’t have to. He could read her feelings in the windows of her eyes and it wasn’t pretty.
He deserved this.
He’d been beyond reckless and foolish.
He might’ve just screwed himself all over again. Was Miranda so hurt and offended that she’d go to Stuart and rat them both out? She’d get a reprimand—but he’d get the pack-your-desk letter. And if by some chance she did rat them out, Stuart wouldn’t turn a blind eye. No, he’d be furious. And rightly so. If the shoe were on the other foot, Jeremiah would deem it a firing offense, as well. Ah, hell.