Unbridled (Unlikely Lovers) (31 page)

Miranda had an idea Christina would be fishing for
the latest on Mark, but for once, she had news of her own. “Sounds great. I’ve got a lot to tell you.”

“
Really? What’s up?”

“
Oh, the usual. Broken ribs, a concussion, a new boyfriend. Levi’s got a girlfriend, too. He’s even been on a date.”

“Hold on, back up for a second. You’ve got a boyfriend?
Really? Anyone I know?”

Ordinarily, this would’ve been unlikely given that their only
mutual male friend was Mark. Travis was the lone exception. “One of your rejects, actually.”

Christina gasped.
“Not that little Travis guy?”

“What do you mean, little?
He’s taller than I am.” At roughly five-ten, Christina was taller than a lot of men—Travis, included—which was something Miranda hadn’t considered when she’d been matchmaking.
Yet another reason never to try that again.

“Never mind. Not important. So, you’re saying you’re hurt?”

In Miranda’s opinion, Travis was the most important thing that had happened to her in years. She started to argue, but figured that a boyfriend discussion would eventually lead to Mark, and she really didn’t feel like rehashing the same old shit. “Slipped and fell during that ice storm we had weekend before last. Travis was here and has been helping me out ever since.”

“Helping?” Christina scoffed. “
Not sure that makes him a boyfriend.”

“Yeah, well
—trust me, he’s been doing a lot more than that.”

“And you don’t think he’s boring?”

Miranda bit back a scathing retort, opting for the simple truth. “He’s probably the least boring man I’ve ever known.” Closing her eyes, she counted to three. “Where do you want to meet for lunch?”

After they’d agreed on a time and place, Miranda
switched off the phone, grumbling. She should be thanking her lucky stars that Christina hadn’t liked Travis, but she couldn’t help resenting her attitude toward him.

The hottest, most perfect man in the world, and she thinks he’s boring.

* * * *

Miranda arrived early and was waiting at a table sipping
her tea when Christina arrived with a potted shamrock and what appeared to be a permanent pout. “I figured what with broken ribs and a concussion, you could use a little luck.”

“
Thanks, it’s lovely, but I’m not sure I need it. My luck is better than ever.”

She frowned. “
Wish I could say the same. I take it you’re happy with Travis?”

“Extremely.
You really missed out on a good one.”

“
No, if you’re happy, I’m fine with that. Just don’t know what you see in him.”

Evidently,
she’d never received the naked waiter treatment.

Christina
sat down, flipping her hair back over her shoulder. “I, um, don’t suppose you’ve heard anything from Mark, have you?”

Miranda’s
only surprise in being asked that question was that it hadn’t been the first thing out of Christina’s mouth. “Not lately. If you’re looking to get him back, I think it’s pretty hopeless.”

She heaved a sigh.
“I was afraid of that. I’m sorry to keep badgering you, but you’re the only one I can talk to about him.”

“You mean that in all the time you were together, you never met
any
of his friends—or his family?”

“Yes, but they’d probably take his side. You’re more…neutral.”

She had a point. Mark had actually been Kris’s friend, with the result that Miranda had been much closer to Christina in recent years. “I’ll talk to him, but I can’t promise anything.”

“
I know you can’t. And I know I should forget him, but I can’t seem to find a reason to. At least, not yet.”

“I take it you h
aven’t met any hunky lawyers since the breakup?”

“
Tons of them. Too bad they’re all such cocky bastards.”

“I suppose the criminal element doesn’t appeal to you, either.”

Christina’s chuckle didn’t quite fit with her demeanor—seeming more akin to gallows humor than genuine mirth. “Have
you
ever fallen for any of your patients?”

“Point made, but w
hat about victims or their families?”

Christina arched a brow. “
Need you ask?”

“Okay,
I realize neither of us sees people at their best, but
I
haven’t been looking. You, I presume, have.”

“Not really
—except to compare them to Mark, and they all come up lacking.”

Mark was a handsome devil—even Miranda couldn’t argue that point—but he was no Brad Pitt.
She smiled to herself.
And he’s certainly no Travis York.

In the end,
although she knew it wouldn’t do a damn bit of good, she promised to talk to Mark.

With plenty to report for once, Miranda carried most of the conversation during lunch. Christina seemed happy for her and Levi, but her underlying gloom persisted.

Seeing no point in putting it off any longer, Miranda called Mark as soon as she and Christina parted company. As she’d expected, Mark was happier than ever and had no intention of going back.

“
She’ll get over me eventually,” he said. “All she needs is someone new.”

“E
asier said than done. I tried to fix her up with a friend of mine, but she’s still comparing every guy she meets with you.”

“I wouldn’t lose
any sleep over it. She’ll find someone. She’s too beautiful not to.”

“I hope
you’re right. I think she’s finally figured out that her work isn’t everything.”

“Wish she’
d done that sooner,” he said with a wistful note to his voice. “We probably would’ve been married with a couple of kids by now. As it is, well…”

“Yeah. It’s too late.”

He paused for a moment. “Do you think I should talk to her myself? Somehow, I think it would be a bad idea. I mean, I’ve already asked Brittany to marry me.”

“And?”

“She said yes.”

This
isn’t going to be pretty.
“I’m very happy for you, Mark. And you’re right. It probably wouldn’t be a good idea for you to talk to Christina right now. I’ll tell her.” Miranda sighed. “I’ve done it before. I can do it again.”

“
Thanks, I’d appreciate that.” Clearing his throat, he went on, “So, how are things with you? Still raising horses and nursing the sick?” The shift in his tone from subdued to brisk spoke volumes. As far as he was concerned, Christina was ancient history.

“Among other things.” Feeling like a broken record, she wound up repeating most of what she’d told Christina.
“I love him to pieces, Mark. He’s the one—it’s that simple.”

“You don
’t know how much I’ve wanted to hear you say that. I feel the same way, myself.” He laughed. “Ain’t love grand?”

Miranda couldn’t have agreed more, but she
also had to tell Christina that Mark was gone for good.

Chapter 31

“I like crab!” Levi announced when he called on Thursday afternoon. “We went to Red Lobster last night. Tabitha taught me how to crack it. You dip it in butter sauce and it’s delicious!”

Miranda had been lucky to get him to eat fried shrimp. Getting him to try crab was right up there with winning the lottery.
“See? There are lots of good things to eat besides pizza and potstickers. If Tabitha is going to be a chef, she’ll probably want you to taste all sorts of new things.”

“I’ll try
, as long as it doesn’t have too much pepper.”

“
She can’t ask for more than that.”

“Um, Mom, I called to tell you I won’t be coming home this weekend.”

Miranda smiled to herself. “I kinda figured that.”

“Travis said he’d be spend
ing the weekend with you, so you won’t get lonely.”

“
Actually, I think he’s just going to come over to feed the horses in the mornings for me.”

“
No, he told me he was going to be there all weekend. He told me when we were practicing driving to Red Lobster.”

“Is that why you aren’t coming home?”

“Oh, no. I’m going to work Saturday and go out with Tabitha on Sunday.” He paused for a moment. “We might be going out tomorrow night, too. It’s St. Patrick’s Day, you know.”

“
Yeah, I know. I have to work.” Generally speaking, Levi was one of the more dedicated homebodies Miranda had ever met. To the best of her recollection, he hadn’t wanted to go out that often in his entire life. Carryout, yes, but going out to a restaurant? Rarely. “Seems like you’re going out an awful lot. That’s a little different for you, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. I like going out with Tabitha. She talks to me and makes me laugh.”

Looking back on all the relatively silent dinners in various restaurants over the years, Miranda couldn’t help being impressed. Evidently, finding the right dinner companion made all the difference in the world. “Still thinking about getting married?”

“Not right now. Tabitha says we should wait a while.”

Miranda sighed with relief. “That’s probably a good idea.”

“Travis thought so, too.”

Good for Travis. “Did he tell you that when you were out for driving practice?”

“
Yeah, but he comes here to buy gas all the time. I call him, too. He gave me his cell phone number.”

“I see.” Apparently
, he’d found a new friend in Travis, which was…encouraging. “What do you two talk about?”

“
Oh, all kinds of things. Guy stuff.”

Miranda went off in a peal of laughter. “That’s interesting.
So, do you like having a man to talk to?”

“Oh, yeah. And since he’s going to be my stepfather pretty soon—”

Miranda’s heart took a nose dive. “Hold on there, Levi. He hasn’t asked me to marry him. You
told
me to marry him. It makes a difference.”

“You mean he hasn’t asked you
yet?”

“No, he hasn’t.”

“Well, when he does and you say yes, you’ll get married, and I’ll have a father again.”

“It isn’
t that simple.”
If only it were…

“Why not? You love him, don’t you?”

“Yes, but—”

“And I know he loves you.
”

Miranda’s jaw dropped. “Did he tell you that?”

Levi snorted a laugh. “No, but I’m not stupid.”

“No, you aren’t. You’re a lot of things, Levi
. Stupid isn’t one of them.”

“Don’t screw it up, Mom. He’s a keeper.”

Never having heard Levi use that particular term, Miranda was puzzled, especially since Jade had said the same thing.

No,
it wasn’t the cat. She’d only
imagined
that to be Jade’s opinion.
Kira
was the one who’d actually said it
. Freaky.
“What did you say?”

“I said, he’s a keeper. You know…
like when you catch a fish big enough to keep?”

“Yeah…” Scratching her head
, she tried to remember if Levi had ever been fishing in his life. She didn’t think he had—although he might’ve done some fishing with the Scouts. Her son’s reports on what he’d done at camp often amounted to more general statements like “We had fun” rather than specific activities. “Where did you hear that?”

If he said Kira told him, Miranda was going to have a stroke. “Travis said that about Tabitha.”

“Ah, that explains it.”

Thank God.

* * * *

On Friday night
, Travis had half a mind to fake a heart attack so he could spend the evening in the emergency room—perhaps even getting to see Miranda—anything to liven up a St. Patrick’s Day spent with Stuart.

“Sure you don’t want to go out for a beer?” Travis asked.

Stuart frowned. “We’ve got beer. It’s even Guinness.”

“I know, but we could sit here watching TV and drink
ing Guinness anytime. We should be out wearing green and looking for leprechauns.”

Scowling,
Stuart settled back in his recliner, the one piece of furniture he’d hung onto in the wake of his divorce. “I’d rather stay home.”

“You’ll never find a sexy Irish girl that way.”

Stuart grunted and aimed the remote at the television. “I told you, I don’t want another woman. Ever. One was enough. Besides, women hate me.”

Travis
fought the urge to grit his teeth. “Women don’t
hate you—although they’d like you a lot better if you’d quit acting like a pissed-off grizzly bear.”

“Don’t you have a girlfriend now?”

Travis grinned. “Yes, I do. As a matter of fact, I might have a wife pretty soon, and I have a feeling she won’t want to live here. If I move out, are you just gonna sit here watching TV for the rest of your life?”

“Maybe. I’ll buy the house from you.”

“You’re already paying me rent,” Travis noted. “I’d consider that as equity and give you a good deal.”

“Fine. Tell me again why you aren’t
out partying with this new girlfriend of yours?”

“
She’s working tonight, and I’m going over to her place in the morning. No point in being there all by myself.”

Stuart responded with another grunt and began flipping through the channels.
He’d settled in to watching something about sharks on the Discovery Channel before he finally spoke. “You’re really thinking about getting married again?”

“Constantly.”

Heaving a sigh, Stuart shook his head. “Good luck. I
never
intend to get into a mess like that again as long as I live.”

“Famous last words
,” Travis said with a snicker. “I’ll remind you of this moment when I’m the best man at your wedding.”

“Ain’t gonna happen.”

Travis popped open a Guinness and took a long drink. “Yeah, right.”

* * * *

Miranda groaned as Adrian wheeled the stretcher into the unit, bringing up the first drunk of the evening. Rick was about thirty, with short hair, a slender build, and a blood alcohol level that would’ve made St. Patrick proud.

“He wants his catheter out,”
Adrian said in an undertone. “I told him it was up to you guys.”

“No problem,” Miranda said. “He’s awake enough to pee on his own.”

“I would have peed for them downstairs if they’d given me a minute,” Rick moaned. “But they stuck that thing in my dick anyway.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll take it out, but let’s get you in bed first,” Miranda said. “Lola is going to be your nurse tonight. We’ll see what she says.”

Lola nodded her consent as Rick pulled back the sheet to check out the damage to his penis. “Oh, my God! Look what they did to it. Why’d they want to do that?”

Miranda wasn’t sure which was funnier, his lack of modesty as he displayed the horrific thing that had been done to him, or the fact that he was wearing metallic blue boxers decorated with umbrella-toting yellow ducks.

“The ER docs get a little impatient with guys who can’t pee on demand,” Miranda explained, doing her damndest not to laugh. “Believe me, the nurses would rather not do it.” She’d heard more than one nurse warn the doctor that if he wanted a particularly creepy guy catheterized, he would have to do it himself.

Unhooking the catheter bag from the stretcher, she let the side rail down.

Rick scooted over to the bed. “I would have peed if they’d just given me a chance. They shouldn’t have done that to him.”

Adrian
giggled as she rolled the stretcher out of the room. “Have fun, girls.”

“Yeah, right.” Miranda pulled up the side rail and went and got a towel, a 10
-milliliter syringe, and a pair of gloves. “Okay, Rick, let’s take this thing out.”

He gazed up at her with grateful, bloodshot eyes. “Thank you. He’s never going to be the same.”

“Oh, yes he will. We haven’t lost one yet.”

“Will he still work?”

“You’ll be able to pee,” Lola said. “Not for a while, though, because your bladder is empty.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he said. “I mean will he still be able to fuck?”

Miranda couldn’t help it. Despite sore ribs and the ethical dictates against laughing at one’s patient, she let out a giggle. “I promise he’ll be fully functional.”

“Oh, good,
” Rick said with a sigh. “My penis is my best friend. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to him.”

While Miranda had always assumed most guys felt that way about their dick, she’d never heard
anyone actually say it. Lola collapsed against the wall, helpless with laughter.

After pulling down his shorts, Miranda put the towel underneath his penis, deflated the balloon that held the catheter in place, and pulled. When it didn’t come out, she rechecked the balloon to assure herself that it was completely deflated. It was. She tugged again.

Nothing happened. Apparently, whoever had catheterized him hadn’t used much in the way of lubricant.

“Hold on, Rick. This might hurt a little.” She gave it another firm tug, and his dick stretched out like a Chinese finger tr
ap before the catheter finally slithered out.

Rick sighed with relief, gently fondling his
penis before tucking it inside his shorts and snapping the fly. 

When Miranda pulled up his T-shirt to hook him up to the heart monitor, she found more surprises. Two nipple rings and a navel piercing.

Lola gaped at him in disbelief. “Why would anyone want to pierce their nipples?”

Rick grinned and wiggled his hips. “It gives me a rush.” He ran a finger up his arm. “Did you see my new tattoo?”

Just what it was a picture of, Miranda couldn’t tell from that angle, but it appeared to be better than most, and was certainly an improvement over the World War II type that looked like a kid with no artistic talent whatsoever had been doodling with a Magic Marker. “Very colorful.”

“Thank you. I think it’s
beautiful.”

Chuck
ling to herself, Miranda went out to check the orders on his chart. When she returned, Rick was on his feet at the side of the bed with Lola standing next to him, holding him up. He’d dropped the rubber ducky boxers, revealing a furry little butt and balls that swung between his legs as he rocked back and forth, trying to coax urine out of a sore dick and an empty bladder.

“Come on,
you can do it,” he urged. “Poor little guy. Why would anyone want to do that to you? Come on, now. Poor little guy.”

Lola
looked like she was going to split a gut. Miranda doubled over on the bed, shaking with silent laughter.

“Poor little guy,” he said again
. Looking up at Lola, he added, “I love my penis. He’s my best friend.”

“I’m sure he is,” Lola replied gently. “But right now, I think he just needs some sleep, and so do you.”

“Okay,” Rick said with a yawn. “I’m going to bed now.” Leaving his boxers on the floor, he crawled back into the bed, collapsing onto the pillow with a sigh. “Can my girlfriend stay with me?”

“Sure,”
Miranda said. “I’ll go get her.”

As it turned out, there was no need to fetch her, for she came around the desk as
Miranda left the room. “Go on in. He’s fine, he just needs to sleep it off.”

“Yeah,” she said wearily. “He always does.”

Lola came back to the desk, apparently deciding against attempting to complete the eleven-page admitting assessment until Rick was a bit more sober. “At least he was more fun than the usual drunk,” she said. “Poor little guy.”

* * * *

Travis had already fed the horses and was waiting on the porch when Miranda got home the next morning. After a hug and a kiss that made her forget all about drunks and catheters, he made her an offer she couldn’t refuse. “Why don’t you get ready for bed while I fix us some breakfast?”