That Reckless Night. Kimberly Meter Van
to give him your smothered halibut and rice recipe,” Mary suggested. “If you weren’t a fan of fish before moving to Homer, you will be soon enough. We have more ways to cook a fish than you can shake a stick at. You’ll learn to love it.”
“I didn’t realize that Homer was such a big halibut outlet. As far as loving fish, I’ll just have to take that on faith because I’m probably the only guy in Wyoming who didn’t enjoy the sport.”
Miranda appeared stymied as he made small talk in the hopes of putting everyone at ease. He was relieved when she was appropriately cordial, even a little on the stiff side. “Welcome to Homer,” she said, meeting his gaze for the briefest of moments before quickly moving on.
The statement was appropriate to the situation but he couldn’t help but wonder if she was referencing his short little note that had been meant to be witty and tongue-in-cheek, which frankly made him want to clap his hand over his face for leaving a note in the first place.
“Miranda is the best tracker in the state,” Mary offered with pride, but Miranda seemed uncomfortable with the compliment and actually murmured something to the contrary to which the woman immediately disagreed. “Now, don’t let her tell you that she’s not. She’s going to tell you that her brother Trace is the best tracker, and don’t get me wrong, he is good, better than good. But Miranda has a gift and if I were lost in those mountains I’d want her looking for me.”
He lifted his brow at the praise and the way Miranda seemed discomfited by it and wondered what had happened in this woman’s life to make her the way she was. It was a mystery that he didn’t want to figure out but it pulled at him just the same. He pushed on. “Your previous director shared his admiration for Miranda’s skill. I’m pleased to have someone with such talent on my team.” And he left it at that. The previous director had also shared that Miranda was hardheaded, at times difficult, and downright ornery. One thing the previous director hadn’t mentioned was how mind-jarringly gorgeous she was. Stop going there. Was this going to be a problem? He refocused again. “I promise I’ll do my best to lead this team as well as your previous director. I know I have big shoes to fill. Or should I say snowshoes.” Gahhh...now he was just disintegrating into bad comedy because his brain had turned to mush. The polite chuckles that followed made him want to assure them that he wouldn’t be that guy who was always cracking jokes and trying to be the office card. But Miranda saved him by interjecting.
“Are we finished with the introductions...?” she asked. She was clearly impatient to get on with her day and he didn’t blame her. There was plenty of work to be done that had nothing to do with the awkwardness between them.
“Miranda, don’t be rude,” murmured her friend with a mildly worried tone. “There’s nothing wrong with getting to know our new director.”
Miranda’s face blanched and Jeremiah thought she might actually say something that would reveal their inappropriate encounter, but she recovered well and simply shrugged as if to say this is me—take it or leave it. He had to respect the way she was handling things and was happy to take his cue from her.
“No, she’s right. We all have plenty of work to do and I’m keeping you from it to blather on about my past when what’s really important is the future. I’ll trust you to get to your regular schedules and I will work to catch up. So for now I’m going to lock myself in my new office to try and get my bearings. We can reconvene at lunch. Sound like a plan?” There were murmurs of assent as everyone began to disperse, and Miranda wasted no time in disappearing. The fact that his stare wanted to follow wherever she went was troubling but he had bigger issues to deal with and that included establishing himself as the new director of the Homer Department of Fish and Game, above and apart from his personal dilemma. Work had always had the power of distracting him from whatever was happening in his life. This new complication would be no different.
* * *
MIRANDA WANTED TO PUKE. She’d never been so wretchedly embarrassed by an encounter with a one-night stand and that included the unfortunate nuisance of Luke Prather trailing her like a lovesick hound after their one night together. If her mother had been counting on karma to bite her in the ass for all of her past bad behavior it was coming to pass right at this moment. Miranda couldn’t disappear into her office fast enough but, of course, locking herself away to wallow in her misery wasn’t on the agenda. Mary, the office mate who had been singing her praises so embarrassingly to Jeremiah, was quick to follow.
“Girl, you are running like the devil is on your heels. What’s gotten into you?”
Miranda wiped the dot of sweat that beaded her brow as her adrenaline raced through her veins and wished she could get a do-over for the past twenty-four hours. She should’ve listened to Russ when he’d said to stop drinking. She should have chosen to stay home instead of dropping Talen off at his grandmother’s so she could drink herself stupid. She should have read a book, watched a movie, dug a ditch—anything that would have kept her from bedding her boss. But it wasn’t as if she could tell Mary that. It wasn’t as if she could tell anyone. In fact, the one person she could talk to about this was the one person she didn’t want to talk to about it. “I’m just not excited about meeting the person who took my job.” Well, that was half-true. She’d thought for sure the director position had been hers and it’d been a nasty surprise when she’d learned that she had, in fact, not been selected. “What do you think of him?”
Mary, a middle-aged woman who liked to consider herself hip and cool because she tweeted on her phone every five seconds like the teenagers did even though half the time she did it wrong, considered the question for a minute then nodded decisively. “I like him.”
“Why?” The question popped from Miranda’s mouth before she could stop it and Mary graced her with a quizzical expression for her sour reaction. Miranda tried to do some damage control. “I mean, how do you know that he’s good for the job? I can’t imagine anyone would do a better job than me. I know this place like the back of my hand, and that’s saying a lot considering how big Alaska is.” She was babbling, throwing out excuses for her odd behavior, but Mary didn’t seem to notice, which didn’t say much for her usual behavior. “I’m just saying, just because he’s nice on the eyes doesn’t mean he’s the right man for the job. You know what I mean?”
Mary frowned. “I think you should give him a chance. I know you’re disappointed that you didn’t get the job, and you would have been a great director, but the fact of the matter is, unless you want to start job hunting, you’d better start getting on board. You’re not going to make any points by cheesing off the new boss.”
Miranda fought to keep her expression from revealing the turmoil churning her brain but she felt off-kilter, which was something that rarely happened to her. If only Mary knew how many points she may have made between the sheets last night, not that those points could help her now. Crap. What a mess. Why couldn’t the new boss have been a troll? Someone more like their old boss. Virgil Eckhart had been a short, squat, balding man with a barrel chest and a fondness for cheap cigars that he only got the opportunity to smoke when he was ice fishing because his wife hated the smell. There was no way in hell Miranda would’ve ever wanted to sleep with him. Not even if it had meant a promotion. But then, Virgil had become something of a father figure when her own father simply checked out emotionally. She slowly refocused when she realized Mary was waiting for a response. “Don’t worry,” she said, trying to put Mary at ease. “I’ll make nice with the new boss.” Cringe. “I have no interest in job hunting anytime soon.”
Mary’s relief was evident in her wide smile. “Thank God. I was worried that you were going to be a bit of a pill with the new boss. I should have known you’d be mature about it. I’m sorry for not giving you the credit you deserve. Honestly, I don’t know what I was worried about now that I think about it. You’re not the hotheaded kid you used to be. You’re a mother, for crying out loud. Sheesh. Sometimes I embarrass myself. Jim is always telling me to stop being so dramatic.”
Miranda laughed, the sound hollow to her ears, yet Mary remained oblivious to her distress, thank heaven. “You worry too much, Mary. Now, don’t you have work to do?” she