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
