Unbridled (Unlikely Lovers) (10 page)

Travis was
quiet after that, evidently preferring food over conversation. Miranda’s appetite had disappeared completely. The longer she sat there watching that adorable man eat the meal she’d prepared for him, the more depressed she got. The beer had been a huge mistake.

He
put down his fork and glanced at her plate. “Aren’t you hungry?”

“
Not as much as I thought,” she admitted. “Are you ready for dessert?”

Smiling, he
leaned back in his chair, rubbing his stomach. “Maybe a little later. I’m pretty full right now. Thanks, Miranda. That was the best dinner I’ve had in a long time.”

“You
’re welcome.” She smiled back at him, groaning inwardly.
Later?
That would be fine if he wanted to be with her, but if he was only waiting until he got hungry enough for pie and ice cream, she’d just as soon he left immediately.

She
put his plate in the dishwasher and took her own uneaten dinner out to the dogs. The weather had turned sharply colder, prompting her to pick up a few sticks of wood, which she added to the fire in the woodstove.

Travis
was washing his hands at the sink when she returned. She bit back a gasp as her eyes drank in the sight of him—the contours of his back and shoulders, the flexing muscles in his arms, the snug sweat pants accentuating every curve…

He
glanced over his shoulder and smiled. What would he do if he had the slightest inkling of her thoughts? She had no idea, but that enticing birthmark was visible from where she stood, making her long to kiss him there.

Would it d
isappear if I licked it hard enough?

Giving
herself a mental slap, she put the rest of the plates in the dishwasher, noticing that he wasn’t washing his hands. He was washing the skillet. As if driving her nuts by wearing her son’s tight pants wasn’t enough, the man had the audacity to help out in the kitchen.

“You don
’t have to do that,” she said. “You’re being paid back for ditch digging—remember?”

He
shot her a wink. “I wanted to help you get finished quicker. There’s a movie on tonight that I wanted to see, and it starts in about two minutes. That is, if you don’t mind me watching it with you.”

Her heart
beat stuttered for a moment.
Easy, girl—it’s not what you think.
“Hmm… Dinner
and
a movie? I don’t know,” she drawled. “You might have to dig a ditch along the driveway for
that.”

“Oh, come on, Miranda
,” he said, laughing. “That was a pretty big ditch I dug today—it’s worth a movie too. Isn’t it?”

It was worth a
whole lot more than that. “Okay. What do you want to watch?”

“
The Bridges of Madison County,”
he replied. “You know, the one with Clint Eastwood and Meryl Streep? It’s an older film, but I’ve always heard it was good. Have you seen it?”

Assuming he would prefer
to watch an action movie, this particular choice came as a bit of a shock. “Yes, and it’s one helluva a tear-jerker. You’ll need a whole box of Kleenex at the end.”

Reaching
for a dishtowel, he dried the skillet. “Aw, no one dies, do they?”

“
Yes, but it’s natural deaths in old age—nothing violent or unexpected.”

“I
can handle that.”

She almost wished she’d lied to him. Of all the movies in the history of cinema for him to want to
see, that had to be the worst possible choice. Watching it with
him
sitting on the other end of the couch while Meryl Streep went on about how everything Clint Eastwood did was erotic—which was precisely the way she felt about Travis—would be pure torture. The only difference was that Meryl actually got to make love to her man. Miranda would never have that opportunity.

Chapter 10

Travis knew exactly what Alan would say to him if he called, which was why he’d turned off his cell phone and left it in his coat pocket. So far, he’d done almost everything Alan had told him
not
to do. But when Miranda had looked up at him with those beautiful green eyes and asked him to stay to dinner, how could he possibly refuse?

Even so,
ditch or no ditch, he was a little surprised she hadn’t booted him out yet. Alan would have told him to get his ass out of there and go home. Her husband probably would have done the same—if he’d been there.

The movie
had simply been an excuse to hang around a while longer. What he hadn’t realized was how much the story would affect him. A single man passing through, a wife left alone while her husband and children are out of town, and what happens when they give in to their passion. The pain of separation. The ache of knowing their love was something that could never be. The emotions were much too similar to those he felt for Miranda.

During one highly emotional scene, Travis
stole a glance at her just as tears spilled over her lashes and slid down her cheek. The urge to take her in his arms and kiss those tears away was so powerful, he had to force himself to stay put and keep his hands to himself. Every scene struck a chord with him, and by the time the woman received the box of her lover’s personal effects after his death, his tears were flowing freely. Miranda was openly sobbing.

When the movie
ended, she left the room, but not before tossing a tissue into his lap. He understood how she felt. Turning off the television, he simply sat there, alone in the dark. Driving home in the rain held no appeal for him whatsoever. The warmth from the woodstove made him sleepy while raindrops pelted against the windows, making the house seem more like a safe haven than ever. In another time and place, he could have stayed all night, sleeping with Miranda in his arms, making love to her and promising never to make her cry like that. Ever.

He heard
plates rattling in the kitchen. She was serving dessert—his cue that his time with her was almost up. He could linger over a piece of pie only so long. But why prolong the agony? Better to get it over with and head for home.

Entering
the kitchen just as the microwave dinged, he watched as she scooped out the ice cream. “You weren’t kidding about that being a sad one. You probably think I’m a blubbering idiot.”

She glanced up at him and smiled.
“Not at all. I’d be more concerned if you hadn’t shed a tear. No
normal
person could watch that and not be affected by it.”

“I
must be pretty normal, then. I know
exactly
how he felt.”

Taking a seat at the table, he
studied her for a moment, trying to gauge her reaction. Did she have any idea what was going on in his head—or in his heart?

“Wanting someone you know you can’t have?”
Her smile was wistful. “I think everyone can relate to that.”

She was right
. The feeling was probably as universal as breathing. “It would be tough asking a woman to give up her whole life for you. I’m not sure I could do it.”

“Both lives change when two people get together
. What about the life you’d be giving up yourself?”

He stabbed his
fork into the pie with unnecessary force. “Who would want
it? It’s lonely, incomplete, and I’m
not
happy.”

“And yet you’re always sm
iling. I’d never have guessed.” Reaching across the table, she squeezed his hand—a simple gesture that made him want to cry all over again. “You’re too damn cute to be without a woman for long. One of these days when you least expect it, some sweet little chickie will snap you right up.”

Despite his dismal mood, h
e laughed. “I’m not sure a little
chickie
is what I’m looking for.”

“
You didn’t want doctors, lawyers, or nurses,” she reminded him. “That sort of leaves the chickie type.”

“
What I want is somewhere in between—intelligent, but not so smart she makes me feel like an idiot. Pretty, but not so gorgeous I’d be worried she’d dump me for any handsome dude that comes sniffing around. Someone who has her own life and is willing to let me live mine. Two lives that are different, but with common ground. Do you understand what I mean?” He was describing
her.
She
was the perfect woman for him, the one he couldn’t have.

“That
’s pretty much what I’d want for myself if I were you.” Her tone was neutral and diplomatic. Obviously she didn’t understand—at least, not enough to take the hint.

“
Tell me something, Miranda. Are
you
happy?”

She
closed her eyes for a moment as though reviewing her life. “Mostly. But no one is happy all the time. Without a little pain, no one would appreciate feeling good, would they?”

“So what are you saying—that I should shut up and count my blessings?”

“No. I’m saying you need to keep an open mind and keep looking.”

“You
’re right.” With a sigh, he finished the last of his pie, then glanced up at the clock. “Guess I’d better hit the road. Thanks again for dinner. That pie was terrific.”

“You
’re welcome,” she replied. “And thank
you
for the ditch.”

He made a half-hearted attempt at a smile.
“Let me know if you need any more of them.”

“Don
’t worry. With the rates you charge, you’d be the first one I’d call.”

She
set the dirty dishes in the sink, seeming relieved that the conversation had lightened up. Travis didn’t think he could handle much more of the deep stuff himself, especially since it wasn’t getting him anywhere. If nothing else, this evening had proved that while he could count Miranda as a friend, she wasn’t about to offer him anything beyond that.

And he
wouldn’t ask it of her. Alan would be proud of him. He’d keep his mouth shut and go home—which was, after all, the right thing to do.

But why does it feel so wrong?

* * * *

The temperature had dropped even further when
Miranda went out to get more wood from the porch, and to make matters worse, it was raining—a cold, bone-chilling rain. Luke and Chewie came out of the doghouse, tails wagging. Toby trotted over from his bed in the garage, slipped on the bottom step, and smacked his nose on the concrete porch with a yelp.

She
went over to help the little beagle, but he’d already scrambled up the remaining step and was frisking about with the others like he always did. She peered at the steps. Something didn’t seem quite right, and a closer inspection revealed the problem. Evidently, while she and Travis had been watching television and eating pie, Mother Nature had served up one of her nastier surprises—freezing rain, which was the only thing Miranda hated more than mud. Everything was encased in a thick sheath of ice. She put out a foot experimentally and nearly slipped off the porch. “Oh, my
God
…”

Gathering up
an armload of wood, she went back inside. “I don’t know if you should be ‘hitting the road’ or not. It’s really slick out there. You might end up hitting something besides the road.”

Travis
came down the hallway from the bathroom. “What?”

“I said it
’s getting pretty slick out there. I don’t know if you should drive home tonight or not—especially pulling that trailer. There’s ice all over everything.”

He frowned.
“I heard something on the radio about freezing rain, but they talked like it would probably be mostly north of here.”

“Well, they were wrong.
” She dropped the wood on the floor and opened the door to the woodstove. “It’s bad enough to pull down power lines now, and it’s still raining.”

Travis went out on the porch
, returning just as Miranda was raking down the coals in the stove. “I don’t even want to walk on it, let alone drive.” After a moment’s hesitation, he asked, “I don’t suppose I could stay here tonight, could I?”

“Of course
you can. I’d never forgive myself if you got hurt driving home.” She tossed the logs into the stove one by one and closed the door. What she’d said was no more than the truth. She’d have felt that way about anyone, but if anything were to happen to Travis…

“I can sleep on the couch.
”

She shook her head.
“No need for that. I’ve got an extra bedroom—two of them, actually. You can take your pick—although the one down the hall on the right has the best bed. I’ve probably even got a new toothbrush around here somewhere. Let me know if you need anything else.”

She
wished she could come up with some reason for him to sleep with her, but she didn’t need that kind of temptation. The towel incident was quite enough.

“I
’ll get you a flashlight in case the power goes off—which it probably will. And if it does, the water won’t work since the pump on the well is electric. If necessary, I can fire up the generator in the morning, but I don’t like to use it unless I absolutely have to. I keep extra water for emergencies.”

He nodded.
“I’ll go on to bed then. I’m kinda tired.”

Miranda
got a flashlight for him, and after a search of the vanity drawers, she found a toothbrush. She gave them to Travis, then went back to the living room and lay on the couch while she waited for the stove to heat up. No matter what happened next, this was going to be a
very
long night.

A few m
inutes later, she heard footsteps coming down the hall.

“
I need to call Stuart.” Sorting through the pile of clothes on the chair, he found his phone and slipped it into his pocket. “Aren’t you coming to bed?”

The way he put it made it sound as
if they’d be sharing a room. If they had been, he wouldn’t have had to ask. She would’ve been there already.

“I’m waiting for the fire to get going,” she replied. “I won’t be up long.”

“Okay,” he said. “Goodnight, then.”

“Goodnight, Travis. Sleep well.”

Travis
closed the door behind him. A cursory glance of the room revealed rough wood paneling, an old-fashioned dresser, and a bed covered with a patchwork quilt. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he pulled out his phone, along with the package of condoms he’d stuffed into the breast pocket of his jacket. He seriously doubted Miranda would have any reason to look through his clothes, but he wasn’t taking any chances on her finding them.

He called
Stuart and told him not to worry—about him
or
the backhoe.

T
hen he called Alan.

“And her husband isn’t home? My
, how convenient.” Alan didn’t bother to tone down the sarcasm. “You planned this, didn’t you?”

“No, I didn’t. Honest to God, I never thought this would happen.”

“Mind telling me why you were there so late to begin with?”

Travis felt like a complete idiot. “Dinner and a movie?”

“Oh, so the two of you are dating now?”

“
No, we aren’t. I—it’s hard to explain. I’d already told her to fix dinner for me sometime to pay me back for the work. When she offered to let me stay for dinner, I figured her husband would be home soon and there wouldn’t be a problem. Then she told me he’d called and said he wouldn’t be home tonight. That must happen a lot because she didn’t seem upset by it—which makes me wonder what kind of work he does.”

“Ask her in the morning, and then get the hell out of there. It’
s supposed to warm up overnight and be sunny tomorrow. The ice should melt off pretty quickly. In the meantime, keep your dick in your pants and your hands to yourself.”

“I’m not going to—”

“I mean it, Travis. Don’t do it.”

“Okay. I hear you. I won’t touch her. Not even if she wakes up screaming her head off in the middle of the night.”

Alan snickered. “No need to be such a hard-ass.”

Travis felt like
strangling his cousin. “Look, I know you’re trying to help me out here—and I appreciate it. But believe me, you aren’t telling me anything I haven’t told myself.”

“It helps to hear it from the voice of experience, though. Trust me, I will never,
ever
, go after a married woman again. I’ve learned my lesson, and I’d rather you didn’t have to learn yours the hard way.”

“I won’t. As soon as the roads are clear, I’m outta here.”

“You do that. Sleep well.”

“I doubt it.”

Travis switched off his phone and set it on the nightstand along with the flashlight. He’d been miserable with Shelley, but that was nothing
compared to this. After a few minutes of staring off into space, he spotted something he hadn’t noticed before. An American flag folded up inside a wooden box with a glass cover—the kind given to the families of deceased veterans—sat in the shadows on the corner of the dresser. Curious, he got up to take a closer look but found no inscription, only the faded photograph of a Marine sergeant with a broad grin, blond hair, and lots of freckles. The picture wasn’t old enough to have been taken during World War II or even the Korean War. It was more recent than that—the Gulf War, perhaps?