That Reckless Night

But Simone wasn’t a quitter in spite of her complaints, and after plenty of ribbing, lots of laughter and more than a few tumbles, Simone finally caught on. After that the Sinclair family had been unstoppable on the slopes. In fact, in time, snowboarding had become Simone and Miranda’s favorite pastime together.

Miranda smiled as she remembered their times at Olson Mountain as teens. Miranda had been eighteen and getting ready to leave for college while Simone had been a know-it-all fifteen-year-old who’d been prettier than any young teen ought to be.

“If you did something more with your hair than just throwing it up in a ponytail, you’d probably get more dates,” Simone had advised as they rode the tow rope up the mountain. Miranda cast her young sister a derisive look and Simone laughed. “No, I’m serious. You’re so pretty but no one would ever know because you’re always acting like a boy. Try a little mascara once in a while, you know?”

“I don’t have any problem getting dates.”

“Okay, well, how about a boyfriend?”

“I don’t need a boyfriend right before I leave for college.”

“Good point,” she said as if she hadn’t thought of it from that angle. “Don’t want to be tied down. College is filled with yummy college boys.”

“Ugh, kid. You’re too boy crazy. Focus on school. Have you thought of what you want to do with the rest of your life?”

“Miranda, live a little, please. Right now I’m focused on my next dance recital and my cheer competition in Anchorage. Anything above and beyond that is way past my interest level.”

“You mean that and your unusual interest in my love life,” Miranda quipped.

“Well, what are big sisters for if not for introducing their hot college friends to their cute little sisters?”

Miranda laughed. “Glad to know I’m good for something.”

Simone smiled brightly and it was hard not to love the kid to distraction. She just had a way about her that was plainly adorable. Simone had been born with magic in her veins.

Miranda closed her eyes, waiting out the echo of grief that followed the memories, until she could safely open her eyes without tears.

How would their lives have been different if Simone had lived?

She supposed it was human nature to wonder, to travel down a road that she knew was a dead end, but when she found herself walking that path most times she became irritated. Simone had died. End of story.

The minute she’d successfully shut down thoughts of her sister, a different sort of unwelcome thought crashed into her mind that was equally irritating but hard to ignore.

If the situation were different, and Miranda had met Jeremiah under completely different circumstances, maybe... No, don’t go there. That’s not how we met. That’s not our story. Stop trying to rewrite the ending.

But even as she stamped down any flicker of wistfulness, there was a part of her that refused to let it go. There was a moment last night when wrapped in his arms she’d felt at home, relaxed. Of course, this was completely at odds with how she usually felt after spending an evening with a man. What a fantasy.

She’d come to the realization that whatever essential component was required for a long-lasting monogamous relationship was utterly broken inside of her. If she were being petty, she would blame that on Talen’s father, but that was being weak. Fact of the matter was, even though Johnny hadn’t known the meaning of the word monogamous, she hadn’t been blind to that from the beginning. Hadn’t expected it, either. So when word came back to her that he’d been messing around, she hadn’t been surprised when she felt nothing for the betrayal. Inside Miranda’s chest where her heart should have been was a lump of ice that, apart from her love for her son, was deeper and colder than the oldest glacier. And every man who’d had the misfortune of mistakenly trusting her with his heart and feelings had left the relationship soured and disillusioned. Miranda just wasn’t the type to settle down and play house.

And a part of her hated that about herself. But if there was one thing she knew, it was that you couldn’t run from whom you truly were and so she didn’t even try.

One hidden blessing in all this mess was that she wouldn’t have to worry about Jeremiah mooning over her, hoping for a relationship out of their torrid encounter. He looked just as ready as she to completely forget last night.

And Miranda was more than willing to play along. As far as she was concerned, they never happened.

CHAPTER FOUR

JEREMIAH SURVEYED HIS new office, taking time to note small details. He didn’t much care that it wasn’t fancy or the epitome of a corner office—he’d never been one to put much value on those sorts of things—but he did appreciate his own personal coffeepot in the office. He went to the machine and attempted to make a fresh pot of coffee but found himself stymied when he plugged it in and no signs of life happened. He was so busy trying to make the coffeepot work he didn’t realize someone had entered his office.

“It doesn’t work,” Miranda said. “Virgil never drank coffee.”

Jeremiah straightened. “So if it doesn’t work, and he never drank coffee, why is there a coffeepot in here?”

“Because it was a gift from a relative who didn’t know Virgil hated coffee. And because Virgil was such a good guy, he could never bring himself to get rid of it.”

“Oh.” Were they really going to have this stilted conversation over a coffeepot? He supposed they had to have a normal conversation sometime but the conversation they were having hardly seemed a good start. “Miranda...about last night...”

Miranda waved away his attempt. “I didn’t come in here to talk about that. In fact, I’d be really happy if we never talked about that night ever again. I don’t need my coworkers to know what a colossal mistake I made on this grand of a scale. I came in to talk to you as an employee.”

Jeremiah considered her request. He could understand the urge to ignore the intimate details between them. However, he found it impossible to forget the memories that were seared into his brain and he wasn’t so naive as to believe that time would dull their clarity. “As much as your solution to our problem would be the easy way out, I’m not that kind of man. We need to talk about what happened between us. We both acknowledge that we made a mistake. And we need to be adult about it and move on. And I agree—the information should not leave this room.”

“Permission to speak freely?”

“Of course.”

“Listen, you’re new here and so you don’t know everyone’s back stories, their personal little tragedies or idiosyncrasies, so I’m going to do you a solid and let you in on mine. I’m not a girl who snuggles. I’m not looking for a man to save or protect me. I take my fun where I can find it and I don’t apologize for it. You came along at the right time and fulfilled a need. I’m sorry if that sounds crass or unladylike or vulgar, but the bottom line is I had an itch and you were there to scratch it. I do my job well and, contrary to what the admins thought, I would’ve been a hell of a director. So, what I came in here to say is what I would’ve said regardless. This is my town and I care about the people who live here. I will hold you to a higher standard and just because you’re the boss doesn’t mean that I won’t tell you exactly how I feel about any given topic regarding my people.”

Jeremiah absorbed her statement. On one hand, he could appreciate her stark honesty. On the other hand, he could tell why she hadn’t been selected as the director. The administrator didn’t have the luxury of saying whatever he or she felt or believed at any given moment. Tact, patience, knowing when to keep your mouth shut were valuable assets that Miranda apparently didn’t value. “I’ve read your file. I know you’re a damn fine tracker. I know you come from this town. Though what I don’t know is why you have a reckless streak and a dangerous problem with authority.”

Miranda’s mouth tightened, clearly irritated by the information that’d been shared with him. “Who said I was reckless?”

Jeremiah shook his head, not interested in playing a “he said, she said” game. “Not important. What is important is the intel. The fact that you grabbed a stranger off the street to have sex, without knowing a thing about me, proves the information valid.”

“Are you judging me?” Miranda’s eyes flashed, revealing a hot temper. “What kind of man goes home with the first woman he lays eyes on in a strange town?”

“A man ending a long self-imposed celibacy with a beautiful woman who openly propositioned him.” He shifted, mildly irritated at being drawn into a fight. His point was rapidly becoming lost. “Miranda, if you don’t want to tell me your reasons, then don’t. But I would advise you not to pick a fight with your superior on the first day.”

His advice seemed to hit home. Miranda looked away, and he could tell she was mentally biting her tongue. Perhaps something she wasn’t used to doing. “Duly noted.” She drew a deep breath and retrained her focus. “In addition to being the best tracker in the area, aside from my brother Trace, I’m in charge of keeping on top of the poachers in the area. If you’d like I can send you a couple of the files I’ve been working on.”

“That would be appreciated.” His mind should’ve been on business, but there was something about her that made it difficult to stay focused. He wanted to know what compelled her to pick up strange men. He wanted to know how many men there had been before him. All manner of questions that he had no business thinking or wondering. “Poachers are everywhere. Same scum, different day. You say you’ve been keeping track of a few? Anyone else on this?”

“No, it’s sort of my baby. My passion, if you will.”

“Send me some of your files and I’ll give them a read. I can’t promise I’ll get to them today but I will definitely try to look over the data by the end of the week.”

She accepted his answer. “Good. I look forward to your thoughts. Welcome to the team.”

Miranda didn’t waste any time with chitchat or idle conversation. She blew out as quickly as she blew in. Jeremiah wondered just how complicated his relationship was going to be with the woman. He’d give anything to forget that last night had ever happened. But he’d long given up wishing that he could change the past. His intimate connection with Miranda Sinclair was just one more thing he would learn to deal with.

* * *

MIRANDA SAT HEAVILY in her chair and realized her hands were shaking. Damn, why couldn’t she just push him from her mind like every other man? She talked a good game, but everything was too fresh, the memories too vivid to simply move on as if it’d simply been another encounter. As if the sex had been mediocre. That probably would have made things a lot easier. A crappy one-and-done certainly didn’t compel a girl to chase after another round.

But that wasn’t the case. He’d certainly known his way around a woman’s body. He had skill. Which, of course, begged the question, why was he single? Not that she cared. But she was naturally curious. She sensed a bigger back story behind those soulful eyes. Don’t dig. She shouldn’t care what his story was.

She placed her fingers behind her head and leaned back in her chair. Maybe she needed some target practice. The familiar weight of a gun in her hand always seemed to soothe the ragged nerves. She liked to imagine she was putting that laser sight right between the eyes of the bastard who’d killed her sister. Of course, she didn’t know who that person was because Simone’s killer had never been found. So in her imagination there was always a blank face staring back at her.

The phone rang, interrupting her dark thoughts, and she picked up the receiver almost gratefully. That was until she heard her mother’s voice on the other end.

“What is wrong with you?”

“That’s a loaded question, don’t you think?” Miranda answered with just enough sarcasm to really piss her mom off. “What’s the problem?”

“Don’t play innocent with me. I know it was you who called that lady. Now I’ve got these strangers in my business.”

Miranda withheld the sigh. The organizer must have paid her mother a visit. “Mom, you need help. I thought Paula could help you get things started.” She took a deep breath, fighting the urge to slam the receiver down in her mother’s ears. “No reason to get all pissy about it.”

“Watch your mouth. And I don’t appreciate you sending nosy people into my house to tell me how I should live. And your father isn’t happy about it, either,” her mother added for emphasis. “You’re scaring away business.”

Miranda felt a flare of familiar anger bubble up in her chest. “What business? Are you talking about the nonexistent business he makes from his carvings? Or his thriving pot business?”

“You know damn well your father only uses marijuana for medicinal purposes. Stop making him sound like a criminal.”

“Mom, you know he sells his pot for money. That is illegal. And I’m not having this conversation with you. Particularly while I’m at work. In case you’ve forgotten I work for a federal agency.”

“I never asked for your help. I don’t need an organizer. And I wish you’d stop foisting your ideas onto me.”

“Fine, Mom. I was just trying to help.”

Her mother, slightly mollified by the muttered apology, moved on to a different subject that was equally controversial in their family. “I don’t like Talen spending so much time with that woman.”

And by that woman, her mother was referencing Talen’s paternal grandmother, Ocalena. “You should take your own advice and stop poking your nose into business that isn’t yours. Talen loves his grandmother and she’s a good woman. You need to stop ripping on her.”

Her mother sniffed, “Well, we all have our opinions now, don’t we? Forgive me if I am uncomfortable with my only grandson spending so much time with a loony Indian. It can’t be healthy that she fills his head with all sorts of stories about that father of his.”

Ah, the familiar argument about Talen’s father. One of her mother’s favorite topics. “There’s no need to pound it into my head how much you hated Johnny. I am well aware of your feelings. However, Johnny was Talen’s father for better or worse. Now drop it.”

“When it’s a subject you don’t want to talk about, you’re happy to shut me down. When it’s a subject I don’t want to talk about, you needle me into the ground. Miranda, you’ve become a raging hypocrite as you become older.”

And you’ve become an even bigger pain in my ass than you ever were. “Was there something you needed to talk to me about?”

“Yes, actually there was. Aside from that horrid little woman intruding on our personal space, I needed to tell you that I heard gunshots on the back forty. I want you to check it out.”

Poaching of Alaska’s resources was a major problem for the state, and the fact that her parents lived on a very large parcel of land that backed up to the Kenai Mountains made their property a popular trespassing point. “I’ll take a look. Did you call Trace?”

“Of course. He’s unavailable.”

Miranda tried not to take offense. The fact that she was her parent’s second choice never felt warm and fuzzy. But she supposed that was something she ought to be used to by now.

“Have you met your new boss yet?” her mother asked, quickly changing the subject.

“Yes.” Miranda didn’t add details. “Why?”

“Because I know how you’d set your heart on getting that job. However, don’t do anything that will put you out of a job. Good jobs don’t just fall out of the sky.”

Was her mother giving her advice? Surely, that was the sign of the apocalypse. “And what, pray tell, could I possibly do that would put me out of a job?” Aside from sleep with the new boss?

“You’re like an old bear with something caught in its paw. You know how you get when things don’t go your way. I just don’t want you to do something stupid.”

Something stupid? Such as pick a fight with her baby sister over a sweater that ended up getting her killed and destroying the family? Miranda would try to refrain from making such an epic mistake again. “Your concern is touching, Mom. But I think I’ve got it handled. You know, would it kill you to acknowledge that I’m not the same reckless kid I used to be?”

“Miranda, I would go to my grave with a smile on my face if I thought you could change. I pray for my grandson that he won’t be scarred by your parenting skills.”

“Excuse me? What are you talking about?”

“I know why you let that Indian woman take care of my grandson...because you were out trashing the Sinclair name with your loose ways. Don’t think that you’re not the topic of every whispered conversation, because you are. I can only hope that you’ve run out of men to sleep with by now.”

“Just because I like to have a good time doesn’t make me irresponsible in every other way,” she said, hurt by her mother’s censure, though why she cared, Miranda didn’t know. “If you can’t tell how I’ve changed, then you never paid much attention in the first place.”

“See it how you will. Doesn’t change the facts. Good girls don’t take home the first man they lay eyes on and that’s a fact. What kind of example are you setting for Talen? No father, no man around to teach him how to do all the things a boy should know...”

“Such as?” she demanded to know. “I can hunt, shoot, trap, track... What exactly is a man going to teach my boy that I can’t?”

“I’m not going to argue the point. I’ve said my piece and I’ll leave it at that.”

“Well, thanks for sharing,” Miranda said. God, help me now and end this conversation. “I have to go. Was there anything else that you needed?” Like the knife stuck in my back?

Miranda could sense her mother’s irritation at her abrupt end of the conversation. Jennelle Sinclair loved having the last word. “I see there’s no sense in talking to you when you’re going to act like that. Don’t forget to look into those poachers above the property line.”

The line went dead and Miranda shook her head. Unbelievable woman. Weren’t people supposed to mellow out with age? Apparently, her mother hadn’t received that memo. She’d like to say they were close at one time, but that would not be true. Jennelle had reserved all of her happiness, her pride and her ambition for her youngest daughter, Simone.

Miranda had simply been the one in Jennelle’s way. At least that was the way it’d always felt. If it hadn’t been for her dad, teaching her how to track along with her brothers, her childhood would have been depressingly bleak.

At Miranda’s lowest point following Simone’s death, she’d often believed her mother would have been happy if Miranda had been the one found dead on that mountain rather than her beloved Simone.

And frankly, there were times that fear remained.

CHAPTER FIVE

HE HAD PLANNED to wait a few days but Jeremiah ended up spending some time looking over the poaching reports that Miranda had prepared. The reports were thorough and showed a commendable attention to detail. Even if Miranda hadn’t told him that catching poachers was a passion of hers, he would’ve been able to tell by the nature of her reports. A wry smile lifted his lips. Miranda was a passionate woman, apparently in all things. He wished their relationship hadn’t been contaminated by their one-night stand. He suspected they could have become strong allies, maybe even friends. Now their relationship would forever be tainted by what they’d shared intimately.

And about that...what he wouldn’t give to get the memories out of his head. It wasn’t that the memories weren’t enjoyable; no, quite the opposite. The memory of last night made him yearn for more. And that was absolutely not happening. Maybe, with a fresh start, it was time to start dating again. After his son had died and his wife divorced him, the usual appetites for companionship simply died. Ending his celibacy with someone like Miranda had certainly left its mark. Literally. Jeremiah shifted as the pull of Miranda’s scratch marks on his back caused him to wince.

He rubbed the grit from his eyes and finally shut down his computer. Everyone had long since gone home but he’d stayed behind to further acclimate himself to the new surroundings. He didn’t want to seem like that guy who simply punched the clock and didn’t care about the job. Back in Wyoming, he’d been accused of being a workaholic. He couldn’t deny that charge. That’d been one of the many hatchets his ex-wife had flung at him, screaming that he hadn’t been around for their son so he shouldn’t grieve for him. That’d been a low blow. Maybe that was why he’d been so ready for a fresh start. He couldn’t stomach the memories—both good and bad—that he was leaving behind.

He closed his eyes as one particular memory eclipsed his ability to hold it back.

“How dare you cry for him! It’s your fault he’s dead.” His ex-wife, Josie, stared at him with red-rimmed eyes brimming with hatred. “I told you he was too young for an ATV. But you went out and got him one anyway.”

“That’s a new low, even for you, Josie. For you to insinuate that it was my fault...you’re lucky you’re a woman. If a man had dared to say that to me I’d knock his teeth down his throat.”

But Josie was wild in her grief and in her belief that Jeremiah had caused the death of their son. “There’s nothing that you could do to me that would rival the pain I’m suffering right now. Go ahead and do your worst. He was only eleven, Jeremiah! What kind of idiot allows an eleven-year-old to drive an ATV? It’s not even legal!”

“I made a mistake,” he admitted, feeling sick in his gut. But Tyler had pleaded with him, using the excuse that nearly all his friends had been riding around on ATVs since they were nine. It had seemed a small thing to allow since he’d only be using the ATV on their property and most of their land was fairly gentle terrainwise. But he should’ve stuck to his guns and turned the boy down. “I’d do anything to take it back. You know that, right?”

But Josie simply stared, as if it were possible that he’d deliberately made a choice that he knew was going to hurt their son. That was worse than ludicrous; it was downright repugnant.

“What does it matter? He’s dead,” she retorted dully, refusing to look at him, as if the very sight of him made her want to retch. Well-meaning folks had warned them that the death of a child could rip apart a marriage and they’d need to support one another to get through the crisis. Jeremiah was fairly certain Josie wouldn’t throw a glass of water on him if he were on fire. So much for supporting one another through the storm.

Jeremiah stared at the woman he had thought was the love of his life, the mother of his children, and wondered why he’d never noticed the cruel streak that ran through her like a river. “I think we need a break,” Jeremiah said, attempting to slow the runaway train of their marriage. “I can get a hotel room for a few days.”

Josie sniffed and wiped the remnants of her tears from her cheeks. “Don’t bother,” she said, her voice hardening. “I’m leaving you.”

On some level Jeremiah must have known things might’ve been heading that way but when Josie actually voiced the words he couldn’t help feeling sucker punched. “That’s what you really want?”

Josie didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

“Don’t you think we should work on it?” Jeremiah wasn’t a quitter even if he could see the writing on the wall. “Do you want to see a counselor?” He was really grasping at straws. Although he didn’t know why. Their marriage was over.

“I never want to see your face again.”

His jaw tensed. There was nothing left to say. “Then get the hell out.”

“Gladly.” Josie shouldered her purse. “I hate you. I hope you never sleep again. I don’t care how you justify your actions—the fact remains if you hadn’t bought that ATV our son would still be alive.”

Jeremiah’s eyes burned with the pain of his grieving heart and in that moment he desperately wanted to take out his pain on the woman standing before him. By the grace of God, somehow he managed to turn away, but he’d been a heartbeat away from killing her.