Unbridled (Unlikely Lovers) (15 page)

Sho
uld she come right out and ask him if they were dating now? She’d talked herself into telling him the truth before, and even then, she’d had nothing to lose—although she
did
have something to lose now. She’d lose his help for the next several few days, and whether she cared to admit it or not, she was lucky to have it.

The best she could do now was to
follow his lead and see where it took them. If he continued to seem interested in romance, she certainly wouldn’t complain. After all, she’d had the hots for him for months. Having him return those feelings would be a dream come true. She simply didn’t want to risk jumping to any conclusions that would make her look like an opportunistic cougar.

Still, she did have a bona fide excuse for odd behavior, at least for the time being. Almost anything could
be explained by the concussion or the pain—and it wouldn’t be far from the truth.

All she had to do was be nice and not fuss at him when he tried to help
out. Unfortunately, that attitude was a bit out of character for her and might make him suspicious. He might even be suspicious already.

Be yourself, Miranda.

There was
only one problem with that. She wasn’t completely sure who that person was anymore.

Chapter 15

Travis parked the truck as close to Miranda’s doorstep as possible, set the brake, and unbuckled her seat belt. “Do me a favor and
wait
for me this time?”

Lowering her head, she
grumbled a bit before replying, “Don’t worry, I will.”

He got out and opened the passenger side door, then
helped her turn to face him. Her dogs were milling around, obviously anxious to see her. He looped her arm around his shoulder. “Try to land on your left foot.”

“That’s my p
lan.” Nevertheless, she yelped as he slid her off the seat. Shifting his hold on her, he held her steady for a moment before starting toward the porch. Fortunately, there were only two steps and she took them one at a time, leaning against him while putting most of her weight on her left foot.

“At least I’ve got one good arm and leg—
although the left side of my butt hurts as much as the right, and I didn’t even fall on that side—at least, I don’t think
I did. Weird, huh?”

Travis could think of at least
one reason why her hips might be sore, but opted to suggest a possible cause that was a little less provocative. “Must be from sitting in the truck for so long.”

“Probably.
My knee is really stiff, too.” A sidelong glance accompanied her tight smile. “I’m pretty sure I can make it from here. You can let go of me now.”

“No
t a chance,” he said. “If I didn’t think it would hurt you even more, I’d carry you.”

Her attempt at a chuckle came out as more
of a gasp as she clutched her side. “You’re such a sweet boy, taking care of a banged-up old woman like this.”

Travis suspected that was the concussion talking rather than Miranda, but
he went along with the game anyway. “Aw, shucks, ma’am. It’s no trouble at all.”

He helped her across the threshold
and into the house and gave her a gentle hug. To his delight, she kissed him on the neck, filling him with warm, fuzzy feelings that somehow managed to settle right in his dick. He gave her another squeeze. “That’s my girl. Now, let’s get you out of this coat.”

He held
her left sleeve while she pulled her arm out of it, then carefully pushed her coat off of her right arm.

She was panting by the time they’d finished. “How did we ever get this
thing on me?”

“
No clue.” He tossed her coat over the chair by the door. “Do you want to go to bed or sit on the couch or what?”

“I think I
’ll just have a seat in the kitchen. I seem to feel better sitting straight up than I do lying down. Besides, I’m not sure I could take another step if my life depended on it.”

She look
ed exhausted—the lines around her eyes were more evident than usual, and her face had gone pale—so he didn’t argue, simply pulled out a chair and eased her down onto it. “Better?”

She heaved a sigh of relief.
“Much.”

“Would you like to change into your nightgown? You might be more comfortable.”

She glanced down at her clothes with a grimace. “None too clean, am I? I’d at least like to get out of this bra. The underwire is sitting on my broken ribs.”

“No problem.” He
went around the table and retrieved her gown from where he’d tossed it earlier that morning. Odd that he’d be putting it
on
her now, rather than taking it off. Undressing her had been much easier then—and certainly less painful. He tried to be gentle, but even pulling up the back of her shirt and unhooking her bra made her gasp. “You okay?”

“Oh,
yeah
.”  Her shoulders sank as she visibly relaxed. “
Much
better. You have no idea. Thank you.”

“
Ready for the nightie?”

She nodded. “Just strip me down and throw it on me.”

With the image of her sprawled naked on the table still fresh in his mind, the urge to act on that suggestion was overwhelming. Even so, he was fairly certain she hadn’t meant it literally.

Must be the concussion talking again. 

“I can do better than that.” Kneeling down, he pulled off her boots and socks, then helped her stand and slipped off her jeans. He’d have liked to dispense with her panties, as well—his original plan to suck her tits and eat her pussy when she came back from the barn was still on his to do list—but under the circumstances he thought it best to leave them on.

Standing behind her, he pulled her shirt off over her head,
gathered up her gown, and dropped it around her neck. “I’ll let you take it from there.” No way was he going to take off her bra. The compulsion to do more than simply gaze at her fabulous boobs would be too much to resist.

“Slippers,” he muttered.
“You had on slippers… Ah, there they are.” He had no clue how they’d wound up under the table, but then, he hadn’t been concerned with footwear at the time.

“
You know, for a non-nurse, you’re doing pretty well,” she said as he slipped them on her feet. “You must’ve taken care of sick old women before.”

“Now, Miranda,” he chided. “You’re not sick and you’re not old. You’re
injured.”

She waved a dismissive hand. “
Same difference. I certainly
feel
like someone’s sick grandmother.”

“Yeah, well, trust me, you don’t look it.”
Generally speaking, grandmothers didn’t make his dick hard, whereas Miranda could do it without even trying. “I’ll put some more wood in the stove before I leave.”

“That’d be great.”

While he built up the fire, Miranda’s cat strolled over and rubbed against his leg. He paused to pet her before adjusting the dampers. Getting to his feet, he went back in the kitchen. “What’s the cat’s name?”

“Jade.
I named her for the color of her eyes.”

“Nice cat,” he remarked. “Very friendly.”

“She loves to sit by the stove—probably considers anyone who’ll keep the fire going to be a worthwhile human being.”

He glanced down at Jade, who was staring at him again.
“Never knew cats were that easy.” If only it were as simple with Miranda. True, they’d had wild monkey sex on the kitchen table that morning, but something told him that episode was only the first hurdle. “Can I get you anything before I go? A cup of tea, maybe? I won’t be gone long.”

She shook her
head. “I’ll be fine. Take your time and be careful.”

While he appreciated her concern for his safety, he’d have felt a hell
of a lot better if she’d told him to hurry back. “I will.”

* * * *

Miranda would’ve stayed right where he left her if she hadn’t been in serious need of a potty break. Drawing in a fortifying breath, she braced her hands on the table and hoisted herself out of the chair, then shuffled down the hall to the bathroom, making full use of the chairs, doorjambs, and wainscoting along the way.

While there, s
he made the mistake of glancing at herself in the mirror. The huge, bloody bump on the right side of her head made her look like something out of a zombie movie. Denise had cleaned off most of the blood, but a cut that hadn’t been deep enough to warrant stitches was still oozing.

At least I
don’t have a black eye. Yet…

Pulling up her gown, she
inspected her ribs, finding a nasty-looking bruise, but no open areas. The knee wasn’t too bad—only bruised and skinned. However, when she leaned over the sink to rinse the blood out of her hair, a bout of dizziness forced her to abandon the attempt. After popping some ibuprofen, she went back to the kitchen.

W
hile brewing a pot of tea, she nibbled on a leftover biscuit. Someone—she wasn’t sure who—had put them in a plastic bag. She couldn’t remember doing it herself, and it didn’t seem like the sort of thing a man would do, although Travis
could
have done it. He’d already surprised her several times, and the day wasn’t over yet.

As promised, she
gave Lola a call, regretting it almost immediately.

“
That was the guy from the Christmas party, wasn’t it?” Lola asked, sounding simultaneously suggestive and accusing.

Miranda had hoped she’d forgotten.
“Um, yeah.”

“I thought
he was dating your friend Christina. What happened with that?”

No
pe. Nothing wrong with her memory.
“Not much. Apparently, I really suck at matchmaking. She thought he was boring, and he was convinced they had nothing in common.”

“So
you decided to keep him for yourself?”

If only it were that simple.
“Not exactly. He offered to dig a ditch around my barn and wound up having to spend the night because of the freezing rain. He was here when I fell, so he drove me to the hospital—and that’s all. Honest.”

Lola
snorted a laugh. “It didn’t seem that way to me. He sure acted guilty when I questioned him about getting dressed—like he’d really had to get
dressed,
if you know what I mean. He seemed sort of possessive, too—the way a man is with a woman he’s staked a claim on.”

Miranda’s eyes widened.
“Whatever gave you that idea? He didn’t say anything of the kind.”

“It
was his body language more than anything he actually said.”

If Lola had noticed it,
Miranda couldn’t very well deny the possibility any longer—the way he acted at the hospital, then driving her home and helping her change clothes. If only she had something more to go on than body language… “I still don’t know…he’s so much younger than I am.”

“
And that makes it impossible? No, trust me on this one, Miranda. He likes you, and not just as a friend.”

If only that were true.
Miranda still couldn’t allow herself to believe it—not yet, anyway. Perhaps later, when her brain wasn’t quite so fuzzy. “I’m still not sure about that. If he was interested in me, why would he let me introduce him to my friends?”

“Did he know
that was why you invited him to the party?”

“Well, no, b
ut he figured it out right away. If he’d wanted me, he should have said something then.”

“Maybe he thought you didn
’t like him if you were trying to fix him up with someone else,” Lola suggested. “Did you ever think of that?”

“No
, I didn’t.” She paused, frowning. “No, wait. I remember now. He thought I was married.”

“
Of course he did,” Lola snapped. “And I know why. You should’ve taken that ring off years ago. Kris is gone. You need to admit that and move on.”

“
I know,” Miranda groaned. “It just seemed so wrong to take it off at first. Then later, I used it as a deterrent. I never told Travis I was a widow because I didn’t think it mattered. I never
dreamed
…”

“
Well, maybe it’s time you did.” Her tone was softer now. “You’ve dedicated your whole life to raising Levi, and you’ve done a terrific job. You deserve to dream a little.”

“Maybe. But
you of all people should know how controlling men can be—and how unreliable. I’ve always thought Travis was a nice, handsome fellow, but—”

“
Has he seemed controlling?”

“Not really, no.”

“Or unreliable?”

“No. He said he’d dig the ditch on Friday afternoon, and that’s exactly what he did.”

“Sounds like a winner to me,” she declared. “Is he still there?”

Miranda couldn’t help chuckling. Lola’s husbands had all been losers—
the first guy left her for another woman, the second was a controlling asshole, and the third was a pathological liar. The fourth wasn’t proving to be any better than the rest, which made Lola’s opinion essentially worthless. In this particular instance, however, Miranda tended to agree. “He took the backhoe home and said he’d be back in a little while.”

“He
’ll be back,” she promised. “He’s not going
anywhere
. Now, do me a favor and get well quick so I don’t have to work with that idiot Sheila any more than I have to already.”

“I
’ll be back in two weeks,” Miranda protested. “How bad could it be?”

“She offered to work extra while you
’re laid up, and I was scheduled to work four nights with you. Now three of them are with her.”

“
Don’t worry. I heal quickly.”
Most of the time. 

“
Of course spending two weeks off with Travis might make you want to stay on sick leave forever.”

Miranda igno
red the hint of suggestion in her tone. “I doubt it. It’ll probably be very boring.”

Lola began
laughing hysterically and was still
laughing when she hung up. Miranda’s friends were always seeing things she couldn’t. Nonetheless, Travis had said he’d be back, and he hadn’t lied to her yet.