Unbridled (Unlikely Lovers) (3 page)

“And a man? Do you
finally have time for one of those?”

Miranda rolled her eyes.
“Maybe, but I’m not a gorgeous chick with a perfect figure and a law degree. You’re bound to have better luck than I will.”

So far, Miranda
hadn’t been tempted, and her own sister’s luck was even worse. Tracy had threatened to compile a “Not Safe to Date” list of local men to share with other single women, and Miranda’s friends from the hospital had offered to contribute a few names. With the exception of Travis, Miranda hadn’t found a single keeper, and she was beginning to believe she actually
did
stand a better chance of being killed by a terrorist than finding a husband—or even a steady boyfriend.

A
ll through dinner, Miranda glanced up at each new arrival, hoping that the next man to walk through that door would be Christina’s Mr. Right. She could see it now. Their eyes would meet, and the man would be instantly smitten and beg to be seated at their table. Miranda would take the earliest opportunity to depart, leaving him to astonish Christina with his wit while regaling her with tales of his rise to fame and fortune.

Chance meetings were usually best. In Miranda’s opinion, playing matchmaker
was a great way to lose two friends at once. Travis’s client must not have seen it that way—nor had any of Miranda’s buddies. Although she’d flat-out refused to be fixed up with anyone, she wasn’t a man-hater. She simply hadn’t met anyone she could love as much as she’d loved Kris, and thus far, she hadn’t seen any point in settling for less.

On top of that, she was
too set in her ways to cater to the whims of someone new. With her husband away most of the time, Miranda had become accustomed to her independence, handling the challenges of a special needs child and her nursing career with minimal assistance. She endured the separation by focusing on the
idea
that Kris would be coming home soon—a technique that also helped her to cope after his death. She simply told herself that he’d be home next month, and when that month arrived, she would imagine that his leave had been delayed, and then she would wait another month and so on.

She’d quit pretending after the first year or two, but
she’d never stopped wearing her wedding ring, nor had she moved it to her right hand. Her matchmaking friends finally understood her reasons for not remarrying—or simply gave up.

D
espite her empty nest, her life was full. She worked three twelve-hour night shifts in the ICU of a small hospital, and that salary, along with the money she’d received after Kris’s death, had enabled her to buy a small farm and a few horses. Now that Levi had his own apartment, she had more time to devote to her animals.

No. She didn’t need a man. All she needed was a bit of eye candy now and then, and Travis York provided that. And if he ever stopped coming to Nigel’s barn on Tuesdays, why, she would simply look elsewhere—or reschedule her lesson.

Even so, she drove home wondering if a casual friendship with Travis was truly enough. Her house was warm and cozy, but the only welcome she received was from her dogs and cats. Levi had never been one to display affection—no hugs or kisses unless Miranda specifically asked for them—so that wasn’t what she missed. The warm presence of another human being was what she needed, even craved, and that craving had only increased as she’d gotten older.

Chri
stina had lived with Mark, and now that he was gone, her house must’ve seemed very empty. Miranda hadn’t felt that echoing sort of emptiness since Kris left for the last time, but she felt it now. Perhaps she was more attuned to it in the wake of her dinner with Christina or even her chat with Travis. They had both lamented being alone, leaving Miranda to question her own decision to remain single. Had she been wrong to shun male companionship for so many years? Could she have found a man she could trust with her heart
and
her son?

She still believed her reasons had be
en valid in the beginning, but something had changed. Kris wasn’t ever coming home, and all the cats, dogs, and horses weren’t enough to fill the void. She wanted Travis, and not simply because he was nice to look at. Unlike any of the other men she’d met, she could see him fitting into her life—not dominating it or tearing it down to rebuild it according to his own needs—but enhancing it, adding richness and fulfillment.

If
he’d been a few years older or had at least hinted he might want something beyond their current casual friendship, she might have tried to convey her interest. But he hadn’t, and as matters now stood, she wasn’t willing to take the risk. He’d awakened desires she’d thought were long gone. Giving up what little she had of him was unthinkable.

Chapter 3

Travis’s truck was sitting outside Nigel’s barn when Miranda arrived for her lesson the next week. “Ah, yes. Eye Candy Tuesday,” she muttered as she backed her trailer into a parking space. Parking at Nigel’s was always an adventure. The stable sat on a hill with a steep paved lot in front that always held an assortment of cars and trailers, which made parking an additional trailer difficult even on a good day. Add a few more vehicles, and it became a nightmare.

After three unsuccessful attempts, she finally got her rig parked reasonably straight, unloaded Kira, and led her into the barn. Travis was already hard at work, shoeing a
big bay gelding. She didn’t even have to see his face to know it was him. She’d seen him bent over so many times, she recognized the seat of his pants.

“Hey, there,
Travis,” she said cheerfully. “How’s it going?”

The bay
turned his head to look at Kira, who glanced at him briefly, then laid her ears back, clearly dismissing him as unworthy.

“I
’m okay.” He didn’t
sound
okay—he was much too subdued for that. Something was wrong.

Nigel
’s working student, a slender blonde college student named Karen, walked by. “Whatever you do, don’t ask him about his love life.”

“Sad story?”

“
Sob
story,” she replied with a giggle.

Travis dropped the hoof he was working on and stood up.
He had his hoof nippers in one hand, a rasp in the other, and his shoulders sagged beneath their weight. His eyes were dull and for once, he wasn’t smiling.

Miranda frowned. He looked terrible—more sick than lovesick.
“Are you
sure
you’re okay? You don’t look so good.” Comparatively speaking, of course. Even on his worst days he outshone most guys.

“You see?”
He waved his rasp for emphasis. “
You
believe I’m sick.
Nigel
believes I’m sick. Hell, Shelley’s a doctor, for Christ’s sake, and she didn’t believe a word I said. I canceled a date with her last night and she called me all day long.
Six times
. All I wanted to do was sleep and she kept calling me to see if I was well enough to take her out.”

“Are you sure she wasn
’t concerned about you?” Miranda asked, trying to put it in the best possible light. “Some people have odd ways of showing it.”

He blew out a pent-up breath. “She might have been concerned
the first time she called, but not the other times. She was sure I was with someone else and was checking up on me.”

That
didn’t sound very promising. “I hate to admit this, but given her history, I can sort of understand that. She’s been shit on for years and is probably expecting you to do the same. You know what they say, ‘Once burned, twice shy.’”

“Yes, but I
’m not her husband.” He paused, wiping his eyes on his coat sleeve. “I’m not like that. When I’m dating a woman, I don’t go out with anyone else.”

“You know that, and I know that, but does
she?” Miranda could see Shelley’s side of it quite easily, whether she liked the idea of anyone treating Travis as if he were a liar or not. “She doesn’t know you well enough to realize you’re trustworthy, and she’s been lied to for years. It’s got to be very hard for her.”

“I wish I wasn
’t her first boyfriend since the divorce,” he grumbled. “I do like her, but I can’t stand being constantly questioned. I’m willing to let her live her life and trust her—why can’t she do the same for me? She’s not the only one who’s been lied to. Women treat me like shit all the time, but I keep trying. I’m willing to trust people until they prove me wrong.”

Lied to and treated
like shit?
Miranda found that hard to believe. If he’d been hers, she would’ve treated him much
better than that. “It’s different with guys. You’re made of sterner stuff.”

He barked out a mirthless laugh.
“If I were that tough, I’d have gone out with her whether I was sick or not—and it would’ve served her right if she caught the flu from me.” He turned and started to pick up another hoof, but spun back toward her with a wave of the nippers. “And another thing. What’s she going to do when she realizes most of my clients are women? I won’t even be able to work without her questioning my every move.”

Miranda
shrugged. “I guess she’d dump you?” If Shelley hadn’t shot her philandering husband, she probably wouldn’t go after Travis with a forty-five, either, so getting dumped was the worst outcome Miranda could think of—not to mention the dumbest. Dump a guy like Travis?
Never.

“You know, it would almost be a blessing
.” Shaking his head, he heaved a weary sigh. “I’m putting
way
too much energy into this.”

“Nee
d a lower maintenance woman?” Miranda knew precisely who she’d suggest, too.

“
Not really. Everyone has needs. I just wish she would trust me. I don’t think I can ever love her if it keeps on like this. I’ve never been so miserable with a woman in my life.”

“Aw, poor Travis
. Do you need a hug?” Miranda had been dying for an excuse to get her arms around him for ages. Now he was sick, sweaty, and upset because another woman didn’t trust him.
Timing is everything.

“Yes
, I
do
.”

His emphatic reply should have come as a warning, but when Miranda
took a step toward him, he flung his arms around her, hoof nippers, rasp, and all. Even though it
was
rather painful, she considered it worthwhile—maybe even worth catching the flu. She hugged him and patted him on the back, doing her best to ignore the tingling sensations zipping through every erogenous zone she possessed.

“I know Miss Right is out there somewhere,” he
whispered. “I just have to keep looking.”

He was so close, she could have kissed him right on that
cute little hickey birthmark—or given him another one—and his warm breath on her neck sent a thrill racing down her spine. She breathed in his masculine scent and squeezed her eyes shut. 

Don’t do it, Miranda.

It took a will of iron, but
she let him go and backed away. “Sounds like you’ve already given up on this one.”

He shrugged.
“I think I may have.”

“Well, good luck
—and for goodness sake take care of yourself. I’m pretty sure you’ve got a fever.” Miranda was dying to take him home, give him a nice warm sponge bath, tuck him into her bed, and feed him hot tea and chicken soup until he recovered. And after that…well, that was something she didn’t dare think about.

Shivering, he crossed
his arms over his chest. “Yeah. I feel sort of hot and cold at the same time.”

“
Take some ibuprofen when you get home,” she advised, slipping into nurse mode. “That is, if you haven’t already.”

“I’ll do that
.” Shoulders still sagging, he went back to work.

Steeling herself against urges she knew she’d regret if they were ever allowed free rein, Miranda focused
her attention on Kira, vigorously brushing the mare’s thick winter coat and trying desperately to avoid staring at Travis.

Travis picked up the bay’s hoof and checked the fit of the shoe. It was a tad narrow, so he set it on his anvil and hammered it a few times. Normally a terrific way of venting his frustrations, this time, it didn’t help at all. He still wasn’t sure what had just happened. He’d actually held Miranda in his arms—too bad he was sick as a dog and they’d both been wearing heavy coats.

No,
he decided, the coats were a good thing; otherwise she would’ve had bruises on her back. He could’ve at least put down his tools and hugged her properly.

Of course, w
ith his hands free, he might’ve done something he’d regret. Miranda was a kind, caring woman. She didn’t deserve to be groped by a guy with the flu who didn’t have sense enough to stay home in bed.

A fleeting image of Miranda lying naked in
that bed assailed him with the force of a horse’s kick. He swallowed painfully, but his cock hurt even more. How could a man possibly feel so bad and so horny at the same time?

He finished nailing on the shoe
and stood up, stretching his back. Miranda had already saddled her mare and had her spurs on.

Damn. I missed it.

S
electing another shoe from his toolbox, he put it on the anvil and gave it a few whacks with the hammer, keeping an eye on Miranda as she donned her gloves and helmet. He was trying to decide why watching a woman put things
on
, rather than taking them off was so overwhelmingly erotic when she looked up at him.

Smiling, she
tucked a lock of hair under her helmet. “Just think, Travis. Maybe tomorrow you’ll get a call from a nice single woman whose horse needs shoes, and you’ll fall in love and live happily ever after.”

He shook his head.
“I doubt it. Besides, I don’t date my clients.” On the other hand, if Miranda had been a client—and single—he might’ve made an exception to that rule. In fact, he was sure of it. He wondered if she liked younger men.

“
Then I guess you’re screwed.”

Travis somehow managed a chuckle when all he really wanted to do was
cry. “I guess I am.”

* * * *

Nigel was screeching at a young girl on a bay gelding when Miranda opened the gate to the arena. If his current mood was any indication, her own lesson wasn’t going to be pretty.

“What is
wrong
with you?” he shouted. “Why do you keep
doing
that?”

Miranda
led Kira over to the mounting block and let down the stirrups, trying to see what had Nigel so incensed.

“Stop that
!” he yelled. “Can’t you hear me?”

Miranda
climbed aboard Kira as the girl rode past. She still had no idea what was driving Nigel so crazy, but the poor girl looked like she was about to lose it.

Nigel let out a long, tortured scream and pulled his knit cap down over his eyes.
“Stop!” he yelled. “That’s enough. Get off the horse.”

The girl d
ropped her reins, sobbing.

“You aren
’t in any shape to ride,” Nigel said sharply. “When you feel like this, you should cancel your lesson and stay home.”

It was good advice, of course, but Miranda understood
why the girl was there.
She
didn’t cancel a lesson unless she was dying. She’d ridden with raging headaches, sinus infections, smashed fingers, and a knee that had to be taped up. No matter how bad she felt, the lesson was important. Canceling was simply not an option.

Mira
nda began her warm-up, catching snatches of the conversation as she rode by. Apparently, the kid’s grandmother was dying, and Miranda would’ve bet money that by this time Nigel was feeling pretty damn small. Head hanging low, the girl left the arena in tears.

N
igel sat huddled in the corner with his jacket pulled tightly around him and his hood up over his cap. He’d never truly acclimated to Indiana’s weather, and Miranda hated to think how he would fare in Minnesota. In his opinion, Pemberton, Indiana was too cold in winter and too hot and humid in summer. There was no pleasing the man, and today was no exception.

Karen came out to exercise
another of Nigel’s horses. After giving her a few brief instructions, he yelled, “Okay, Miranda! I’m ready to be impressed!”

After that last lesson, it shouldn
’t be too hard.
Shortening her reins, she leaned back, driving Kira forward into the bit with her legs. The big mare dropped her head slightly and surged forward.

“Good,” he called
. “But rounder, deeper, more leg.”

She
squeezed harder with each stride, but it wasn’t enough.

“Both legs, Miranda
! Get her rounder.”

Tightening her legs to the point of pain, she
worked the bit back and forth in Kira’s mouth. Nothing happened.

“More leg
!” he yelled. “More leg!”

There
was a standing joke around the barn that no one would ever want to have sex with Nigel because he would be much too critical. Miranda could imagine him yelling, “More leg!” to his wife all the time. Small wonder she always seemed to be in a bad mood.

Turning her toes out, she
used a tiny bit of spur.

“Yes, Miranda
!” he exclaimed. “Good. Now keep her that way.”

There
’s always a catch…

“Aaaahhhh
… What happened? You had her and lost it. You’ve got to keep your aids coming. You go into neutral when you get her round and then you lose it.”