Unbridled (Unlikely Lovers) (32 page)

“Sounds fabulous.” After changing into her nightgown, she
climbed gratefully into bed just as Travis carried in a tray. She told Travis the “poor little guy” story while they ate, pleased that for once, she had someone there who could truly appreciate the humor.

“He was actually talking to his penis?” he asked.

“Yeah. He was certainly one of our more entertaining drunks. Most of them are obnoxious pains in the ass.”

“Sounds like you had
a lot more laughs than I did last night. Stuart seemed determined to have the least amount of fun possible. Honest to God, he’s getting worse instead of better.”

“Could be he’s going through another phase in
the recovery process.”

“Maybe. I just wish he’d hurry up and move on to the next one.
I hate to leave him there alone in the evenings, but he’s kinda depressing to be around. I’d much rather be here with you.”

“I’
d rather be with you too. Lunch with Christina wasn’t a bit of fun. She’s still pining over Mark. She asked me to talk to him, and I did, but I haven’t had the guts to call her back yet. He’s getting married.”

“I’m sure she’
ll love that.”

“No shit. Guess I should get it over with.”
Yawning, she sank back against the pillows. “I’m kinda surprised she hasn’t called me.”

Travis gathered up the empty plates and set them on the tray. “Don’t worry about it now. Get some sleep.
” Leaning over the bed, he gave her a sweet, bone-melting kiss. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“
Thanks, Travis. Have I told you how much I love you and appreciate you and how glad I am you’re here?”

“I believe you just did.”

“Good,” she said as she snuggled down to sleep. “I wouldn’t want to be remiss.”

Chapter 32

Miranda went to her riding lesson the next week, although after a short ride, she wished she’d stayed home. “The flying lead change is gonna have to wait another couple of weeks, Nigel. Just bouncing in the saddle makes me feel like I can’t breathe right.”

Nigel was optimistic. “I’ll ride her. Bet I can get her to do it.”

Miranda knew that having Nigel as a rider would be good for Kira, but the mare wouldn’t do it for him, either—which made Miranda feel a little less inept, and only irritated Nigel.

“My God, Miranda. Are all of your horses evil?”

“They aren’t evil, Nigel. They’re just—oh, hell, I don’t know. Whether Kira ever does a flying lead change or not really doesn’t matter since she’s primarily a broodmare anyway. I just wish I could figure out what to do with Jadzia.”

“Breed her.”

“Maybe, but to what?” Jadzia was beautiful, with a shiny, chocolate brown coat, a star, and one white stocking. Unfortunately, her anatomy—relatively short legs and a long back—made dressage difficult for her.

“How about an Andalusian?” he suggested. “Or a Lusitano?”

“Yeah, right. I’d have to sell her just to get enough money to pay the stud fee. Which reminds me, are you still interested in Arwen?”

“Who?”

Nigel’s terrible memory had gotten him disqualified more than once for omitting a jump in the show jumping phase of a three-day event. On one of those occasions, he’d actually been in the lead after the dressage and the cross country competitions.

“Arwen,” Miranda repeated. “You know…the chestnut filly that turns three this spring? The one I brought up here and showed you last fall?”

His blank expression made Miranda wonder how many concussions he’d had before she’d started taking lessons from him.

“Did I like her?” he asked.

“Yes, you did. You even told someone else that she was already yours and that I couldn’t sell her to anyone else.”

He scratched his head. “I did?”

Miranda nodded.

“Okay, if you say so...”

What a trusting soul.
“You said you’d give me four thousand for her when she turned three.” It wasn’t a total lie—she’d given him her price and he
had
told that other woman that Arwen was spoken for.  

“Really?” he asked, scratching his head again. “I said that?”

“You most certainly did.”

“Well, okay.” he said brightly. “Bring her tomorrow. I’ll find the money somehow.”

Miranda hoped he wouldn’t have forgotten by then. The money was a different story. Hopefully, his wife would remember to pay her. Perhaps she should send an email…

* * * *

Thanks to some contrivance with Levi, Travis had already bought the ring. He’d been a little overwhelmed in the jewelry store until he spotted one particular setting, and somehow, he knew it was the right one. The only problem he faced now was how, where, and when to ask her. Should he pop the question over a candlelight dinner in a fancy restaurant, or should it be after a quiet dinner at home? Or perhaps during a stroll through the pasture? He considered sticking the ring to his dick with a dollop of cookie dough or peanut butter, but he didn’t want to be too kinky or too flippant. His intentions, as the saying went, were honorable, and he wanted her to know that.

Finally deciding that a more intimate setting was best, he opted to fix dinner for he
r at her house and ask her then, which was probably the best tactic anyway. No point in making it obvious what he was up to. After all, a proposal should come as a bit of a surprise, and, hopefully, not an unwelcome one.

Miranda was still up at the barn when he arrived, and his plan was to have everything put away before she returned. He’d already carried in all the bags when he suddenly panicked, frantically patting his pockets for the jewelry box. He found it right where he’d put it, of course, but opened it anyway, if only to reassure himself it was still there. Fumbling as he attempted to stow it back in the breast pocket of his jacket, the box fell into a bag of groceries just as Miranda came through the door.

“Hey, sweetie. Looks like you’ve been shopping.” Within seconds, she was right there in front of him, greeting him with a hug and a kiss. “Don’t tell me you brought more cookie dough. I think there’s still some of the last batch left. Used to be, it wouldn’t have lasted a whole day, let alone a week.”

Travis gave her a sheepish grin. “Um,
looks like the Travis York method of binge prevention is working.”

“Yeah, now I binge on your dick,” she said dryly. “I’ve traded one addiction for another.”

“Yes, but sucking my dick is guaranteed to prevent weight gain.”

“True—aside from the fact that I can’t get enough peanut butter on it for a good-sized mouthful.”

Scowling, he pulled out a carton of unsweetened organic soy milk and glanced inside the bag. The jewelry box was nowhere to be seen.
Great.
“Are you insinuating that my dick isn’t big enough for you?”

“I’m not insinuating anything. I mean, doling it out in tiny amounts is the whole idea, isn’t it?”

“Tiny? My dick is
not
tiny. It’s big enough to make you scream, isn’t it?”

“Well, yeah… Why are you so touchy all of the sudden?”

Heat flooded his cheeks. He arched a brow in an attempt to disguise his reaction. “I’m not being touchy. It’s just that I’ve got plans for this evening.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. Could you just help me put the groceries away?” He knew he sounded a bit snappish, but he still had a chance to retrieve the ring while her back was turned. Unfortunately, she went for the very sack it had fallen into. 

Crap!

From her crestfallen expression, he had an idea he’d hurt her feelings, or at the very least pissed her off. Averting her eyes, she began emptying the bag, setting lettuce, tomatoes, cottage cheese out on the table.

“This stuff is a lot healthier than what you usually buy,” she remarked. “Are you going on a diet?”

“No, I’m not going on a diet,” he replied, unable to keep the irritation out of his voice. “I don’t live on cookie dough, you know.”

“I didn’t think you did. These things seem more normal, though. I hadn’t realized I was out of so many things.”

“Just stocking up.” He reached blindly into another bag and pulled out a package of rib eye steaks. 

Her eyes nearly popped out of her head. “Oh, my God! Steaks cost a fortune nowadays. I’ve quit buying them altogether.”

“Me, too,” he admitted. “But like I said, I’ve got plans for the evening.”

She stared at him for a moment, then glanced at the bag of charcoal sitting on the floor.

“Planning to grill the steaks?”

“Yep,” he said. “We’re also having baked potatoes and salad, and I’m making chocolate mousse for dessert.”

“Chocolate mousse? Really? That stuff’s a bitch to make. You’ve got to whip the cream, melt the chocolate—oh.” She stopped short as he held up a package of mousse mix, but she still seemed curious.
Too
curious. “That would be easier, of course. What’s the occasion?”

“Nothing special.” Travis couldn’t believe how badly he was handling this.
There goes the romantic dinner…
With an absent shrug of his shoulders, he stashed a sack of potatoes in the pantry. “Just wanted a steak.”

Miranda didn’t pursue the matter any further because it sounded pretty good to her. If only she didn’t feel like crying. Thank goodness he’d bought some Kleenex. With her luck, he would start looking for an excuse to leave now, just when she’d admitted she loved him and was starting to depend on him. Just as she’d always feared he would...

Tears stung her eyes as she opening another bag filled with detergent, fabric softener, and paper towels—he hadn’t been kidding about stocking up. Another bag contained some decidedly male toiletries—body wash, disposable razors, shaving cream, and aftershave.
No wonder he always smells so good...
A bottle of wine. Candles. Baby oil.

“Baby oil?”

A seductive grin banished his irritation. “I told you I had plans for the evening.” He blew out a pent up breath and pointed to a small gift box at the bottom of the bag. “You might want to open that. I got it for you.”

She eyed him with suspicion. “Okay, this isn’t my birthday, and it certainly isn’t Christmas.” Her heart plummeted. Maybe it was
his
birthday. No—he wouldn’t have gotten her a present for that. “Is it some holiday I’ve forgotten about? Should I have gotten something for you?”

“No, you shouldn’t have gotten anything for me. Right now, this is just another day.”

Although Miranda seldom wore jewelry, she recognized the name on the box, having heard countless radio ads for that particular store. Gifts for non-occasions didn’t come in packages like that. She lifted the lid, gasping as the diamond inside sparkled back at her.

“And yes, you can wear it to the barn,” he said. “It’s guaranteed for life.” 

Guaranteed for life.
So many things weren’t—husbands included. She swallowed around the tight lump in her throat. “I hope it’s got a strong, tight setting. Otherwise it’ll be gone in a week.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he said. “The stone might disappear, but I won’t. You’re stuck with me now, Miranda—I’m not going anywhere—not after today.” His voice took on a softer, deeper timbre. “Think you could put that on? I want to see it on your hand.”

She slipped the ring on her finger, marveling at the perfect fit. “How on earth did you know what size ring I wore?”

He held up another ring—the one Kris had given her. “I used this.”

“I can’t believe you found that,” she exclaimed as he dropped it onto her outstretched palm. “I mean, I didn’t exactly hide it, but…”

“Are you kidding me? Did you
really think Mr. Observant wouldn’t spot it in there with the flag?”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course he did. I suppose he snuck it out of there for you too.”

Travis nodded. “He’s quite the co-conspirator. Never said a word to you, did he?”

“Not about the ring, but he seemed to think our engagement was a done deal.”

Dropping his chin, Travis gazed at her with an expression in his deep blue eyes that would’ve melted the heart of a much stronger woman than Miranda. “So,
is
it a done deal?”

“That depends. Levi pretty much told me to marry you, but you haven’t actually asked me. I think I need to hear it from you.”

“Ah, but you
did
hear it from me. I distinctly remember telling Levi that you should marry me for making brownies. However, I have no problem with repeating myself.” Eyes twinkling, he got down on one knee. Taking her hand, he closed her fingers around Kris’s ring. “I love you with all my heart, Miranda. Will you marry me?”

As she gazed at Travis, the memory of Kris’s proposal flashed through her mind. Diamond rings were a luxury he couldn’t afford, and they’d been sharing a sundae when he asked her to be his wife. She’d said yes in an instant, but her feelings now seemed so much deeper than they’d been back then. Having spent so many years without a man made her realize that what he offered was the most precious thing imaginable—far more valuable than any diamond and every bit as unlikely as lightning striking twice in the same place. And yet, there he was, the embodiment of love, kneeling right in front of her with an expression that touched not only her heart, but the depths of her soul.

Tears welled up in her eyes. “Oh, yeah. If I had my choice of any man in the world, I would choose you. I love you so much.”

He was on his feet in an instant, pulling her into an embrace that
left her breathless. “I promise you won’t regret it, Miranda. I’ll do everything I can to make you happy.”

“And I’ll do the same
for you.” From Miranda’s perspective, Travis was more likely to be the one to have regrets, but as his lips melted into hers, every fear—real or imagined—dissolved into nothingness.

Travis meant every word of that declaration, but it took two to make a marriage work. If nothing else, his first marriage had taught him that. A woman didn’t stray from her husband if he’d done all he could to keep her unless she’d never really loved him to start with. Miranda loved him. He was sure of that now.

What he had to remember was that
love was an action as well as a state of being. He hadn’t been lying when he’d told Miranda he’d never been a fun kind of lover in the past. He’d been too passive, too stagnant, and not nearly adventurous enough.

He might never know what it was
about Miranda that changed him, but he understood the outcome. She’d set him free of constraints imposed by his family and upbringing and allowed him to fall in love for the first time in his life. She’d given him license to use his imagination, opening a whole new world of romance and passion. He couldn’t imagine doing some of the things he’d done with Miranda with any other woman.