Unbridled (Unlikely Lovers) (21 page)

If she’ll let me.

Chapter 21

Miranda awoke to a silent house. Even Jade, who lay curled up beside her, wasn’t making a sound. Obviously, Travis wasn’t back yet. With a yawn, she tossed the covers aside and sat up, noting that her ribs hurt less—either that or she was simply getting better at moving in ways that didn’t aggravate them.

Padding barefoot into the bathroom, t
he first thing she noticed was the grocery bag filled with Travis’s clothes sitting on the floor. To have his things stashed in a corner so unceremoniously seemed wrong somehow—as though he were an unwelcome guest. He was certainly not unwelcome, although putting his clothes in a drawer might seem…presumptuous. Would he assume that the next step would be for him to move in permanently?

Probably not.
Although he lived with his brother, she had no idea whether they shared a house or an apartment. Leaving an apartment behind would be easy enough, but if they owned a house together, he wouldn’t give it up to move in with her, would he? The fact that he didn’t have room for a horse didn’t mean anything. Even a house in the country might not have a lot of land associated with it.

She was still
pondering this as she wandered back to her bedroom, her eyes landing on the dresser that still held some of Kris’s clothes. Not many, of course—only a few things he’d worn when he was home on leave and the personal items she’d received after his death. Although most of the drawers contained very little, she’d never seen any point in throwing any of it away, thinking that Levi might want it someday.

S
he was surprised to discover that she could accomplish the task of emptying out the top drawer with only a passing wave of wistful nostalgia, rather than the grief she might have experienced in the early years. Still, it wasn’t permanent; she could always put Kris’s things back after Travis left. He wouldn’t stay forever—only until she was able to feed the horses again.

S
he could’ve easily resumed her barn chores that morning. Even so, she wasn’t quite ready for him to leave yet—a fact that had nothing to do with any work he might do for her. Nor was she afraid to be alone. It was more a matter of how much she would miss him.

She gave herself a mental shake. Pu
tting his clothes in a drawer wasn’t all
that
significant. She simply didn’t want him to have to live out of a grocery sack. There was no more to it than that…

With nothing better to do, she
was in the process of gathering up her dirty laundry when she heard Travis come in. He must’ve been shopping again; she could hear the rustle of bags and the sound of bottles rattling in the refrigerator. Hoisting the laundry basket onto her hip, she headed out to the kitchen. “Got anything you want washed?”

“
Maybe a few things.” Frowning, he stared pointedly at the basket. “Should you be carrying that?”

“You
’re starting to remind me of Denise,” she growled. “If it hurt, I wouldn’t be doing it.”

“And
does
it hurt?”

He already knows me much too well…
“Maybe a little,” she admitted. “I do lots of things that hurt. This is just one more.”

He arched an eyebrow
. “As I recall, you aren’t supposed to lift anything heavier than a bottle of water. Better give me that.”

She
rolled her eyes, but relinquished the basket. “I’m not used to having anyone fetch and carry for me. I feel sort of restless—I needed something to do.”

“
Take up knitting,” he said over his shoulder as she followed him to the laundry room. “It weighs less.”

“I might if I had any yarn or knitting needles, but I don
’t.” She’d never done anything that domestic in her entire life.

“You really aren
’t used to sitting around, are you?”

“Nope—
wait, I can at least do that,” she said as he began sorting the clothes into the washer.  

Stepping aside, he
waved her on. “Might even keep you out of trouble for a while.”

“Trou
ble?” She could think of several things she’d done with him that might constitute trouble. Doing his laundry wasn’t one of them.

“Yeah,
you know, the stuff you keep getting into?”

A quick mental review of recent events took the steam out of any argument she might have made.
Ice storms, floods, concussions, men who put peanut butter on their dicks…
“For someone who’s supposed to be keeping me out of trouble, you seem to be doing your best to corrupt me. No one who would bring cookie dough and peanut butter into my house could ever be classified as safe.”

A lazy smile curled his lips.
“Depends on what you do with it.”

“
You’re a dangerous man, Travis York.” With a wag of her head, she gave him a wry grin. “Go get your dirty clothes, and I’ll wash them.”

H
e departed with a wink, returning a few minutes later with an armful of clothing. Aside from Levi’s laundry, Miranda hadn’t washed a man’s clothes in a very long time. Still, it seemed only natural to toss his underwear in with hers. After adding detergent, she closed the lid.
So much for that. Now what do I do?

Almost as if he
read her thoughts, Travis leaned over and whispered, “If you’re looking for something else to do, I believe I could make a suggestion.”

His tone was certainly suggestive.
“Does it involve food or sex?”

“Food,” he replied.
“It’s time for lunch.”

“Aw, darn
.” She smacked her fist into her palm. “And I was so sure it would be sex.”

“I
’m always up for that, but I
am
kinda hungry.”

She scowled at him.
“You’re always hungry and you always want sex. I believe I’m seeing a pattern here.”

“No pattern, just normal male appetites,” he said.
“To tell you the truth, it’s been a while since I felt like satisfying either of them.”

She snorted a laugh.
“What, you mean you don’t eat?”

“Not like I have since I
’ve been here with you. You make me hungry for everything. You’re a pretty good cook too.”

She eyed him askance.
“Thank you—I
think
.”

“
I’m easy. Just feed me and fuck me and I’ll be happy.”

He might have been laughing, but a
t least he was honest. Miranda wasn’t sure any man needed much else from a woman. The rest he could take care of on his own. “No beer, no TV, no football?”

“
Don’t need ’em as long as I’ve got you.”

“
If I’d known you were easy enough to want me, I’d have said something a long time ago,” she said ruefully. “I could have saved myself the trouble of trying to fix you up with my friends.”

He glared at her.
“What do you mean, easy enough to want you?”

“I
’m not your usual type, am I?”

He seemed
surprised. “I didn’t think I
had
a type. What type are you?”

“Oh, I don
’t know...older, sort of battle-scarred and cynical, but under it all, a hopeless romantic.”

“
Sounds like my type exactly.”

“Oh, hush
.” She didn’t believe a word of it—was
afraid
to believe it. “What do you want for lunch?”

“Hmm…” He tapped
his chin thoughtfully. “Decisions, decisions...do I want sex or food?”

“We
’re back to that, are we?”

“I guess so.
Actually, I’d like both, but I’ll settle for food—for now.”

“Good,
because you’re wearing me out.”

Which brought to mind
another line in
Rebecca—
the one
where Jack Favell makes the comment that “a lovely woman isn’t like an automobile or a motor tire, she doesn’t wear out. The more you use her, the better she goes.” Miranda hadn’t had much opportunity to test that theory—until recently. Somehow she didn’t think it applied when the woman in question had fractured ribs.

Travis was still snickering when she opened the r
efrigerator and nearly choked on her own spit. He
had
been shopping again. In addition to the two packages of chocolate chip cookie dough he’d admitted to buying the day before, there was now a package of peanut butter cookie dough and a huge can of whipped cream.
What would they taste like together?

She had
to close her eyes whenever she passed those sections in the grocery. Otherwise, her inner demons would take over, forcing her to throw package after package into her cart. And now, all of this was in her own home, in her own refrigerator. Her knees almost gave way beneath her when she spotted the bottle of chocolate syrup.

“What
’s wrong?”

Clearing her
throat, she averted her eyes from the tempting syrup to the hot dogs sitting on the shelf below. “Nothing, Travis. Nothing at all, just give me a moment to recover.”

“You
’ve really got it bad, haven’t you?”

“You have
no
idea.” She took a deep breath and picked up the hot dogs. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but I can’t help it. It’s like putting a huge jar of cocaine in a junkie’s medicine cabinet.”

“Sorry,” he said, looking a bit chagrined.
“I’ll get rid of it.”

J
ade stalked into the kitchen, gazing up at her with reproach.

Miranda hesitated as if the cat had actually issued a warning. Still, whether Jade had said anything or not, she was absolutely right.
He’s a keeper. Don’t run him off.
“No, maybe it’s time I worked through this. Let’s see how long I can leave it there without eating it.”

“I might end up eating it first,”
Travis admitted. “I shouldn’t, of course, but I felt like celebrating. Guess I should have gotten champagne, instead.”

“Now
,
that
I could leave alone. Too sour.”

He smiled.
“I’m not crazy about it myself. We should make out a list.” He took the hot dogs from her. “You can close the door, now, Miranda.”

“What?
Oh…yeah. Close the door,” she muttered. “Right. Shut the door. Just like that. Sounds easy, doesn’t it? But it’s not.”

Travis gently removed
her fingers from the door handle and pushed the door closed. “There now,” he whispered in her ear. “Out of sight, out of mind.”

His nearness sent goose bumps
racing over her skin and a new flush of heat diving to her core. “I hope so. But I doubt it.” She paused as a new thought occurred to her. “Is there anything you crave and can’t live without?”

“I
’d have to be pretty stupid to tell you that, now, wouldn’t I?” He pulled a knife out of the drawer.

“And I don
’t suppose you’re what anyone would call stupid, are you?”

“My momma didn
’t raise no fool.” He sliced open the wrapper on the hot dogs. “At least I learn from my mistakes. After that first marriage fiasco, I had sense enough not to marry anyone I didn’t fall head over heels for and felt I could trust, so, no, I’m not that dumb. And I’m not about to screw this up over cookie dough.”

“Screw what up?”

“This,” he replied, gesturing between the two of them. “You and me...together.”

Miranda figured it would take more than cookie dough to screw it up, at least, from her standpoint
, because the best she could tell, Travis was freakin’ perfect. She barked out a scornful laugh. “Don’t worry, I’ll be the one to do that. I’ll wolf down everything you bring home, gain fifty pounds, and you’ll get over me in a heartbeat. Probably won’t take long since I’m not exactly what you’d call thin to begin with.”

“If your goal is to be rail thin, don’t bother on my account. The anorexic look has never appealed to me.”

“Funny how no one ever believes they’re thin enough—especially actresses. Gorgeous women like Jane Russell and Marilyn Monroe are fat by today’s standards.” She shook her head, grumbling. “Women’s magazines are horrible. They’ve always got
Miracle Weight Loss Diet
in bold letters superimposed over a close-up of the biggest, gooiest chocolate cake you’ve ever laid eyes on. Shit like that really pisses me off.” Snarling, she glanced up to find Travis smiling at her in the most peculiar manner. “Sorry. Just having one of my soapbox moments. Feel free to ignore my rant.”

“Not likely,” he said, chuckling. “
Besides, I kinda
like
hearing you rant.” With a wink, he flashed that pearly grin at her—again—and her heart did a pirouette right there in the middle of her chest.
Can’t be good for it…
“I’ll let you know if I ever get tired of listening to you.”