but—”
Her back stiffened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.”
“It meant something.”
He let out a breath. “You’re so damn efficient. You never need anyone to help you. It gives me an inferiority complex.”
Her throat squeezed tight, and tears smarted. She couldn’t answer, not without revealing how much his words hurt.
“I worry about you, never cutting yourself any slack. Put a help wanted ad in the paper and hire someone, for heaven’s sake. And another thing…”
The tirade continued as if he hadn’t just shoved a dagger into her heart.
Am I really that self-righteous?
When he finally wound down with a few closing arguments, she gathered her composure and nodded. “I’ll hire someone. I intended to, but haven’t gotten around to interviewing applicants yet.”
He gave her a sharp look. “Then why did you let me go on and on about it? You should have said something.”
“Stopping you when you’re all worked up is about as easy as restraining a charging bull.”
A grin quirked the corners of his lips. “Point taken. Almost there.”
“Huh?”
With one arm wrapped around Jackson, he pointed with the other. “The creek is just up ahead.”
Chokecherries lined the slopes leading to the slow moving stream as it lazed between low banks. Dismounting, she handed the reins to him and took Jackson while Cole loosely tied the horses near a patch of fresh spring grass. After unfastening the picnic basket and an old quilt he’d strapped behind his saddle, he led the way down to a flat patch of grass near the creek.
“The trick will be keeping Jackson out of the water.” She plopped him down on his padded butt then sat on a nearby, sun-warmed rock.
“He’ll dry if he gets wet.”
“True.” Closing her eyes, she lifted her face to the breeze and pressed her lips together.
The lid of the picnic basket creaked open, and paper rustled against plastic. She pictured Cole’s strong hands pulling out plates and sandwiches to place on the quilt. At their backs, the wind rustled the leaves of the chokecherry bushes, while near her left elbow, Jackson sucked noisily from his sippy cup.
“No, boy, you can’t eat rocks.”
Don’t look. Let him handle it. She would show Cole she wasn’t always a control freak.
“Is something wrong?”
“Why would anything be wrong?”
“I don’t know. You’re usually not this quiet. Lunch is ready.”
She opened her eyes to find Jackson eating crackers, getting crumbs everywhere. Sandwiches, apples, grapes, chips and cookies sat in a heap on the quilt. And next to the paper plate in front of her lay a single, perfect rose. Her throat tightened as she gazed into warm, brown eyes.
“Thanks for all your help, Miranda. You saved me.”
With difficulty, she croaked, “You’re welcome.”
Picking up a ham and cheddar on rye, he pulled it from the plastic baggie, took a bite and chewed, his gaze never leaving her face. “So, what have you been doing besides working?”
She shrugged one shoulder, retrieved an apple that had rolled to the edge of the blanket and polished it on her shirt. “Not much. My social life isn’t anything to jump up and down about.”
He crunched chips and eyed her closely. “No new man in your life?”
Her cheeks grew warm. “Not your business, Cole.”
“Nope. It isn’t, but I thought I’d ask anyway.” Reaching out one long arm, he rescued a caterpillar crawling toward Jackson and set it in the grass. “I’ve seen four different women since we broke up, and none of them made it past the third date. One little spitfire told me I shouldn’t have asked her out if I was still hung up on my ex.”
Miranda choked on the apple and gasped for air, then stared at him through watering eyes. “How did she know—”
“Your name may have come up in passing a few too many times.”
“This is your idea of a friendly outing to catch up? No pressure?”
His smile let loose a kaleidoscope of butterflies
Her back stiffened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.”
“It meant something.”
He let out a breath. “You’re so damn efficient. You never need anyone to help you. It gives me an inferiority complex.”
Her throat squeezed tight, and tears smarted. She couldn’t answer, not without revealing how much his words hurt.
“I worry about you, never cutting yourself any slack. Put a help wanted ad in the paper and hire someone, for heaven’s sake. And another thing…”
The tirade continued as if he hadn’t just shoved a dagger into her heart.
Am I really that self-righteous?
When he finally wound down with a few closing arguments, she gathered her composure and nodded. “I’ll hire someone. I intended to, but haven’t gotten around to interviewing applicants yet.”
He gave her a sharp look. “Then why did you let me go on and on about it? You should have said something.”
“Stopping you when you’re all worked up is about as easy as restraining a charging bull.”
A grin quirked the corners of his lips. “Point taken. Almost there.”
“Huh?”
With one arm wrapped around Jackson, he pointed with the other. “The creek is just up ahead.”
Chokecherries lined the slopes leading to the slow moving stream as it lazed between low banks. Dismounting, she handed the reins to him and took Jackson while Cole loosely tied the horses near a patch of fresh spring grass. After unfastening the picnic basket and an old quilt he’d strapped behind his saddle, he led the way down to a flat patch of grass near the creek.
“The trick will be keeping Jackson out of the water.” She plopped him down on his padded butt then sat on a nearby, sun-warmed rock.
“He’ll dry if he gets wet.”
“True.” Closing her eyes, she lifted her face to the breeze and pressed her lips together.
The lid of the picnic basket creaked open, and paper rustled against plastic. She pictured Cole’s strong hands pulling out plates and sandwiches to place on the quilt. At their backs, the wind rustled the leaves of the chokecherry bushes, while near her left elbow, Jackson sucked noisily from his sippy cup.
“No, boy, you can’t eat rocks.”
Don’t look. Let him handle it. She would show Cole she wasn’t always a control freak.
“Is something wrong?”
“Why would anything be wrong?”
“I don’t know. You’re usually not this quiet. Lunch is ready.”
She opened her eyes to find Jackson eating crackers, getting crumbs everywhere. Sandwiches, apples, grapes, chips and cookies sat in a heap on the quilt. And next to the paper plate in front of her lay a single, perfect rose. Her throat tightened as she gazed into warm, brown eyes.
“Thanks for all your help, Miranda. You saved me.”
With difficulty, she croaked, “You’re welcome.”
Picking up a ham and cheddar on rye, he pulled it from the plastic baggie, took a bite and chewed, his gaze never leaving her face. “So, what have you been doing besides working?”
She shrugged one shoulder, retrieved an apple that had rolled to the edge of the blanket and polished it on her shirt. “Not much. My social life isn’t anything to jump up and down about.”
He crunched chips and eyed her closely. “No new man in your life?”
Her cheeks grew warm. “Not your business, Cole.”
“Nope. It isn’t, but I thought I’d ask anyway.” Reaching out one long arm, he rescued a caterpillar crawling toward Jackson and set it in the grass. “I’ve seen four different women since we broke up, and none of them made it past the third date. One little spitfire told me I shouldn’t have asked her out if I was still hung up on my ex.”
Miranda choked on the apple and gasped for air, then stared at him through watering eyes. “How did she know—”
“Your name may have come up in passing a few too many times.”
“This is your idea of a friendly outing to catch up? No pressure?”
His smile let loose a kaleidoscope of butterflies
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