That Reckless Night. Kimberly Meter Van
forgoing toilet paper and started using newspaper for their bathroom business.
As if keying into her thoughts, Jeremiah asked, “How was your relationship with your former boss? Virgil was his name, right?”
“Yes. Virgil was Virgil. Good, solid guy. A little on the cranky side at times but otherwise harmless. Why?”
“Just making conversation.”
“How was your relationship with your former boss?” she asked, lobbing the question right back at him.
“My boss was a jackass.”
“Why didn’t you like him?”
“She,” he corrected, “was a power-hungry egomaniac on her best days. However, she didn’t want to bother with my department and left me to run it as long as nothing landed on her desk that would make her look bad. Thankfully, I did my job well, and thus, our paths crossed only a few times a year for the obligatory dinners, and we managed to smile civilly for appearances’ sake.”
“So why do you call her a jackass?”
“Because she was as tough as any man I’d ever known and I figured the term fit.”
She chuckled. “Something tells me you’re not going to send her a Christmas card this year.”
“Crossing her off the list was done with more than a little zeal.”
Miranda laughed a little harder, picturing Jeremiah striking a name with a big black marker and an expression of maniacal glee. Jeremiah graced her with a wry but knowing look. “You just imagined me as a crazy person in your mind, didn’t you?”
“No, of course not,” she lied, her smile remaining. “Nice to know you’re human just like the rest of us.”
He shot her an assessing glance. “Should I be flattered or concerned that I come off as inhuman?”
She faltered, realizing she may have inadvertently insulted him. “I’m sorry. I don’t know where that came from. We really shouldn’t talk about personal stuff. It’s a slippery slope given our history.”
“It’s okay,” he assured her. “I have a decent sense of humor and I hardly consider polite banter between two people as crossing a line. Our history doesn’t have to be the elephant in the room.”
“But it is the elephant in the room,” she disagreed. “Normally, I wouldn’t have a problem joking around with my superior if I found that person open to it, but I’m not entirely comfortable doing that with you because of my fear that we’re becoming noticeably too familiar. The last thing I need is people talking about my professional relationships.” She added, grumbling, “They do enough talking about me as it is.”
Jeremiah chose to let her comment slide and she was grateful because she should’ve kept that complaint to herself. Her mother was fond of saying, “It’s your bed, now lie in it,” and ordinarily, she wouldn’t have given two flips of a sea otter’s fin how others felt about her, but for some reason she cared what Jeremiah thought about her. She’d dig into those reasons later. For now, she wanted to ignore them.
“I like to get to know my team,” Jeremiah continued. “I feel it helps me to be a better leader if I know the strengths and weaknesses of the people around me. I don’t know how to get to know someone without discovering some personal details about them.”
“And how did your team back in Wyoming feel about you poking your nose into their personal business?”
“I didn’t ask intrusive questions.... I simply showed that I was interested in knowing what they cared about. And you know what, my team appreciated my interest. They said it made them feel as if I was doing more than only being their boss because it was my job.” He paused before admitting, “I prided myself on being more than a superior, but I don’t know how to do that with you.”
“I think you know me well enough,” she muttered. “The way I see it, we already know each other too well.”
Jeremiah caught her gaze briefly but it was long enough for Miranda to see the heat smoldering behind those beautiful eyes and she knew in an instant that he was thinking of all the ways they’d spent the evening worshipping each other’s bodies. Her cheeks flared and her breath hitched in her throat as words escaped her. Jeremiah saved her from further embarrassing herself by speaking first. “I’m trying to operate as I’ve always done with employees. I’m trying to forget our first encounter.”
“How’s that working out for you?” she asked, unable to help herself.
“As well as it is for you,” he retorted drily. “But I’m going to keep trying and I suggest you do the same. In the meantime, if I don’t treat you the same as I treat everyone, it will look odd. So...I will ask you about your family, your pets and your hobbies just as I would for Todd or Mary or anyone else on my team. Got it?”
“Yeah, I got it.” She didn’t like it, but Jeremiah’s statement made sense even if the idea of giving up more personal information, however superficial, made her squirm. But she had to admit, having a boss who actually cared about things wasn’t entirely bad. “You’re a good guy, Jeremiah Burke,” she decided with an irritated sigh. “Things would’ve been a lot easier if you’d been a total ass. And ugly.”
She was pleased when he simply acknowledged her grudging compliment with a slight head nod. If he’d mucked up the sentiment with more words, it would’ve ruined the good feeling she had about him. And she was glad that he hadn’t.
CHAPTER EIGHT
JEREMIAH WAS NO STRANGER to a beautiful landscape but the Alaskan wilderness took his breath away. Nearly literally.
He shrugged and shifted in his down jacket, shuddering as the cold jarred his bones, reminding him with an icy touch that he wasn’t as young as he used to be. An old skiing injury always flared up in the winter, aching and protesting when the temperature dropped, just like it was now. Miranda caught his subtle wince as they climbed the trail winding deeper into the Kenai Mountains and stopped with a frown. “You okay? If you aren’t up to this, we can turn around.”
“I’m fine,” he answered, determined to keep going. He didn’t want Miranda to see him as a weak desk monkey, though he knew it shouldn’t matter what she thought of his masculinity. He gritted his teeth and ignored the dull pain throbbing in his knee. “Show me the way. I’m right behind you.”
“If you say so, but the trail gets pretty rough up ahead,” she warned as she turned and kept trudging along the trail that was clogged with deep foliage and ruts caused by snow runoff. The bite in the air smelled sharp and clean even if it cut through his bones. He probably should’ve picked a warmer clime—like Arizona or Nevada—but if anything said “you’re old and can’t take it” faster than a move to Arizona, Jeremiah didn’t know. Besides, he hated the extreme heat even more than he hated the idea of being thought of as a soft-handed desk monkey.
They came to a ridge overlooking a meadow that bumped up against the edge of a lake, and the beauty filled him with joy. “Pretty as a postcard,” he murmured in appreciation. “This is definitely God’s country.”
“Yeah, nothing is better than Alaskan wilderness to remind us just how small we really are.” She drew a deep breath. “I’d match up the glory of Alaska to any place in the United States.”
“You love Alaska.”
“I do,” she admitted softly. “I don’t know why—by all rights, I ought to hate this place—but I can’t imagine my life anywhere but here. Guess I have Alaskan ice flowing through my veins.”
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