It's In His Smile (A Red River Valley Novel Book 3) (5 page)

She blinked at him.

“You’ve been inside Bea’s house, right?” He knew for certain she had.

Two more blinks.

He raised both eyebrows at her and angled his head to prompt her to speak.

“You’re half-naked,” she blurted, keeping her eyes steadily on his. The sheer willpower she exerted to
not
look at him from the neck down showed in her stiff expression.

A muscle next to her eye ticked.

He fought off a chuckle. “Come on, Miranda. I’m not naked. I had a hard time changing because of my shoulder.” He paused. A tiny pang of guilt gathered in his chest for wanting to tease her. But hell no, he couldn’t resist. “Besides, we’ve seen each other naked before.”

Like Miranda could ever forget being skin to skin with Talmadge Oaks. Especially since it had been her first and her only time to ever be skin to skin with . . . anyone.

She narrowed her eyes at him and tried to ignore his perfectly sculpted abs.

She really did try.

But then he adjusted the bag against his hip and the hard muscles of his chest rippled and jumped.

Her mouth turned to chalk dust.

“I can’t come in.” Surely that croaking sound wasn’t her voice? “I’ll just leave it here on the porch.” Yes, she definitely sounded like a frog. Time to go before she leaped all over him or her tongue shot out to lick him or something even more embarrassing. Hadn’t she just blurted something about deviled eggs? The very ones that that were laced with her pesky pheromones.

Holy Jeez
. She started to set the bag down.

“My shoulder’s acting up, Miranda. Can you help me out?” He shrugged. “Since you’re here and all.”

She really shouldn’t. She hadn’t always exercised good judgment around Talmadge, especially on the rare occasions she’d found herself alone with him. Besides, the way people in this town idolized him because of his notoriety, even jumped when he snapped his fingers, irritated her.

“Please.” His voice and his look were a little helpless and a whole lotta cute.

Her insides turned to mush.

Without a word she took a step toward him, and he angled his body so she could cross the threshold. When she brushed past him, the rich scent of his soap sent her pulse racing. He kicked the door closed with a bare foot and headed toward the kitchen.

“In here.” He tossed his head in the general direction of the kitchen. With long strides, he walked ahead of her, his shirttails flapping to each side, Levi’s draping perfectly over a firm butt and muscled thighs.

Miranda squeezed her eyes shut for a second and nearly bumped into the wall.

Talmadge stopped and frowned over his shoulder. “You okay?”

“Um, yeah. Just tired from putting on the wake.”

As soon as he turned to stroll into the kitchen, Miranda mouthed a curse and followed him She set the bag on the counter and stared at the bowls on the floor.

“He’ll never eat out of that.”

Talmadge’s brows pulled together.

She took the bag from his arm and set it on the counter. Digging inside, she produced a small can of expensive gourmet dog food and held it up for him to see. Then she dug into the bag again and pulled out two of Bea’s bowls. “He’ll only eat this brand of dog food, which isn’t available in Red River.” Miranda set the can on the blue kitchen counter. “And he’ll only eat out of these bowls.” She separated the two pieces of fine china and popped the lid off the can.

“That’s Bea’s good china,” Talmadge murmured.

“Yep.” Miranda pulled open Bea’s flatware drawer and grabbed a spoon. “He’s spoiled.”

She spooned the mushy dog food into the bowl and called Lloyd’s name. She placed the bowl on the floor next to the other two. He pranced into the kitchen and buried his thin snout in the food, lapping it up like it was his first meal of the day.

“That’s amazing.” Talmadge watched Lloyd eat. “Bea never let me use those dishes, because she didn’t want any pieces to get broken.”

“What did you need help with?” Miranda wiped her hands on a dishtowel.

He turned those silvery eyes on her and stared at her for a second like he was still trying to wrap his head around a dog eating out of his grandmother’s coveted china. “Oh,” he finally said. “Can you help me wrap up my shoulder? I can’t do it one-handed, and it needs to be iced several times a day.”

Simple enough. She could do that.

He tugged one sleeve down over his arm, and that side of his dress shirt fell away, exposing more of his chest.

Miranda’s vision went all fuzzy for a second.

“I’ll show you how to do it,” he said.

Those words made his ripped torso snap back into perfect focus. Once—seven years, three months, and twelve days ago—he’d shown her how to do other things. Very nice things. Things she missed right about now.

“Miranda?” He fished the ice packs out of the sink.

She shook her head to clear her muddled brain. “
Yes
.” She nearly yelled. “Sure thing.”

“Can you grab one of the bandages?” He nodded to the two long strips of rolled elastic bandages and set the bags of ice on the counter. “I’m going to hold one bag in the front and the other in the back so they overlap just a little.”

She scurried over and snatched up the bandage. Then she sidestepped around him to work from behind. No way was she going to stand face-to-face with him so close that his breath would wash over her cheeks, down her neck, and prickle her skin all the way to her—

“Wrap the bandage over my shoulder.”

She jumped. Then reached up to follow his instructions.

The heat of his skin and the cold ice mingled together as her fingers brushed across his chest to stretch the bandage into place, and a shiver ricocheted through her. She swallowed.
Okay. Done
. God, he smelled good.

“Okay, circle it under my arm and back up over the shoulder again.”

What?
She breathed him in.
Oh. Yeah.
She followed his instructions, her hand skimming along the sleek angles of his torso.

“Now diagonal across my back.” His tone turned husky.

She smoothed the bandage across his back, and the muscles rippled under her touch.

Good God.

“Then all the way around my chest . . .” His voice cracked on the last word and trailed off.

What was that annoying ringing in her ears?

She reached around his torso with the bandage and had to wrap both arms around his middle to catch the bandage roll with the other hand. And oh, sweet baby Jesus, he was so warm and hard. Her breasts pressed against his back, and she really wanted to kiss the bare skin between his shoulder blades, because it was right there just an inch from her lips.

His breath hitched, and she hesitated. Her arms were still wrapped around him like a sensual embrace. He released the ice packs, secured now by the bandage, and placed his hand over hers.

“Miranda?” He said her name, soft and gentle, and this time his tone held a question that entailed far more than just helping wrap his shoulder.

“What?” she snapped, peeved at herself much more than at him. Because, really, how could she let herself react like . . . like one of his hotel-owning groupies? “I just couldn’t reach it.” She switched the bandage to the other hand and put a few inches between them while she wrapped it over his shoulder again.

His big hand fell away from hers. “I was just going to ask where Bea gets the dog food.” His voice went hard, just like his body.

“Oh.” She wrapped and diagonaled and circled and wrapped. And tried to shake off the zing of heat pulsing through her veins straight to the spot between her thighs. The spot that only Talmadge had been able to bring to a boil. “She had to drive into Taos for it.” She tried to smooth the damned croak in her voice. “I’ve picked it up for her the past few months because she didn’t feel like making the trip.”

Finished with the bandage, she secured the end by tucking it into the web she’d woven around him.

He turned to face her. Stared down at her from under shuttered lashes. “Thank you for helping Bea. And thank you for the wake.”

Oh. Well. She cleared her throat, and the ringing in her ears got a little louder.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” She nearly swallowed her tongue. “I mean do you need help with anything else?”

The corners of his strong mouth lifted into that half-smile. And for a moment, she wanted to step into his arms and soothe whatever troubles he’d been carrying inside as long as she’d known him. The sorrow that showed in that almost-smile. The one she’d dreamed about. Owned by the guy she’d wanted since before he went and got all famous and had beautiful, rich women stuck to him like Velcro. The only man on earth who could rip her heart right out of her chest and grind it to a pulp if she let him.

She wasn’t going to let him.

She took a step back. “I’m leaving.”

His gaze dropped to her mouth. “You don’t have to.” It was an invitation. “But you probably should.”

And
that
was a warning. His lust-laden voice and smoky eyes clouded her senses, circled around her heart and threatened to break it in half. At least he was honest. Always had been. So Miranda gathered what little willpower she had left and walked out. Because the truth was, Talmadge was the one leaving and Miranda never would.

C
hapter
F
ive

Giving the door to the inn’s owner’s suite a frustrated slam, Miranda tossed her keys and purse onto the dinette table. She needed a shower. A hot one. Or maybe a cold one would work better after rubbing against Talmadge’s bare, muscled back, because she needed something to douse the flames still making parts of her body quiver that had absolutely no business doing so. At least not when anyone else was in the room.

A wavy, black head of messy hair peeked around the corner from the kitchen. Her younger brother, Jamie, waved and pointed to the phone at his ear. His thin build and five feet eight frame made him look more like a high school kid rather than a college sophomore.

“Mom,” he mouthed.

Miranda grimaced.

“I’ve got classes and homework tomorrow, Mom. I can’t help your new boyfriend move in.” Jamie rolled his eyes at Miranda.

Her grimace turned to a groan. Not another one. The last one was supposedly “for real this time” and was going to marry her mother and take care of her if she’d just let him move in and recover from a back injury. Yeah, he’d lasted about as long as her mother’s meager paycheck. Then he borrowed her car to go to the liquor store and never came back.

Jamie shot Miranda an evil grin. “Hold on, Mom. Miranda wants to talk to you.” He walked over and shoved the phone at her.

“I hate you.” She took the phone, and Jamie laughed.

She flicked on the floor lamp that sat in the corner of the den, and sank onto Bea’s old plaid sofa. Talmadge’s grandparents had only used the owner’s suite to rest during the day when they ran the inn, so the furnishings were sparse. Miranda lived there, and someday she’d redecorate and make it a homey little place all of her own. Right after she figured out how to pay for it. In the meantime, Bea’s old sofa was Jamie’s bed. It was a whole lot cheaper than a dorm at Highlands University.

With an exhausted breath, Miranda put the phone to her ear. “Hi, Mom.”

“How’s my little girl?” Her mother’s voice, raspy from years of inhaling smoke from menthol cigarettes and seedy biker bars, scratched at her ears like claws against a chalkboard.

Right. Miranda hadn’t been a little girl since she was two. She’d been a grown-up practically since birth, trying to fill in the gaps of responsibility in her family just to survive. Once Jamie arrived, Miranda had gone from adult to mother figure. All by the age of six and a half. While Miranda was making sure Jamie was bathed regularly and teaching him to read, her mother’s biggest concern was finding another man with a Harley.

“I’m just fine. You?” Why did she even ask?

“You sound tired, sugar.”

Oh no.
Sugar
usually meant her mother wanted something. And that something was usually money.

“What is it, Mom?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Her mother was already defensive.

Definitely wanted something.

Miranda exhaled. “Nothing. I’m just tired. Bea’s funeral was today, and I had the wake at the inn.”

Her mother sighed. Loudly. “You’re a good soul, Mira. Taking care of someone who wasn’t even family.” She emphasized the last three words.

“Bea did a lot for me. I owed her.” For the way Bea had taken an interest in Miranda’s life, given her the credit no one else had for raising Jamie when her mother was off doing Lord knew what with God knew whom, sometimes not coming home for days at a time, Miranda owed her a lot more than a wake.

Her heart suddenly squeezed. Her friend was never coming back.

“Listen, sugar.”

Here it came.

“Ted is moving in.”

Oh, this one’s name was Ted.

“Can we borrow your Jeep? All he has is a Harley.”

Big surprise.

Well, she wasn’t going to chance another one of her mother’s boyfriends running off with the only vehicle Miranda owned.

She’d been supporting herself and Jamie since she was eighteen, even moving them into the apartment over Lorenda’s garage. Miranda loved her mother, she really did. Who knew why her mother had turned out the way she had? She wouldn’t talk about her childhood, but Miranda had figured out a long time ago that it must’ve been hard and very, very painful. Still, she wasn’t going to keep enabling her. “Can’t, Mom. I need it to haul supplies for the renovations.”

“Maybe the inn was a bad investment, Mira.”

Miranda rubbed her eyes with a thumb and index finger. Was it too much to ask that her mother show some support? A little encouragement? Just once? “Look, Mom, I have to go.”

Jamie came out of the kitchen, munching on barbecue chips. He picked up one of his textbooks off the table and waved it at Miranda.

“Jamie needs help with his homework.”

Thank you,
she mouthed to her little brother and hung up.

“Okay, I don’t hate you quite as much.” She kicked off her shoes.

“Good. So . . . I’m getting a job.” He shoved another chip into his mouth and chomped.

“What? No, you’re not.” No he wasn’t.

The drive back and forth to college because she couldn’t afford a dorm chewed up a lot of his time. Besides, she wasn’t about to let Jamie waste precious study time at a dead-end job. Not with his brains. She’d been deprived of a college education even though she’d finished first in her senior class and scored a thirty-one on the ACTs, but she’d see to it that Jamie got one if it bankrupted her.

Which it just might, because her funds were running dangerously low. If she had to choose between paying for Jamie’s tuition and paying the mortgage on the inn, she’d have to default on the note and lose her dream of becoming a business owner.

“I want you to focus on school.”

“I am focused on school,” he argued around a mouthful of chips.

She gave her head an authoritative shake, switching into mother hen mode. “I don’t want a nothing job to distract you from studying.”

Her phone rang. Good, because she was not having this conversation. She worked too hard to make sure Jamie had a better life. She didn’t want him to lose focus now that he was half finished with his degree.

“Hello.” She answered the call without even looking at the number.

“Hey, girlfriend,” said Lorenda, her BFF since high school.

“Hey yourself. Whatcha doing?”

“I’m packing to jet off to Paris for a romantic weekend with my new rich lover,” Lorenda said, all seriousness.

“Okay. Whatcha
really
doing?”

Lorenda laughed. She’d been mostly a single mom since her two kids were born, because her husband hadn’t come home from Afghanistan alive. Both boys were still in elementary school, so trips to Paris and romantic weekends weren’t on Lorenda’s list of priorities. “I’m cleaning the boys’ bathroom. They had the stomach flu the last two days.”

“Oh dear.” Miranda wrinkled her nose.

“Yeah, I’m living the dream.” Her tone softened. “Sorry, I missed Bea’s funeral.”

“Bea would’ve understood.”

“My mom and dad said you did a nice job with the wake. How’d it go?”

The way Miranda saw it, she had two choices. She could tell her best friend the truth about how Talmadge had so thoroughly explored her mouth with his and how he’d done an exceptional job fondling her ass with his big, warm hand. Or she could lie.

“Oh, you know. Just an average wake, I guess.” Average wake her ass. Literally.

“Need me to come by tomorrow and help clean up?” Lorenda offered.

“Already done. Besides, it sounds like you’ve got plenty more to clean than I do.”

Lorenda laughed. “Hey, my mom just called. Did you know there was a town meeting tonight?”

“Nope.” Between losing Bea and organizing the wake, Miranda hadn’t kept up with the weekly events in Red River. “Why?”

Lorenda hesitated.

Never a good sign. “What?”

Jamie wandered into the kitchen and stuck his head in the refrigerator to look for more food.

“You were kind of elected to chair the Hot Rides and Cool Nights Festival this year.”

Miranda sat up. “Elected? I didn’t put my name in.”

“Um, Mom said Clydelle and Francine put it in because no one else volunteered.”

“But Mrs. Wilkinson usually chairs it.” A flutter settled in the pit of Miranda’s stomach, because Mrs. Wilkinson hated Miranda. With a passion. Because Miranda’s mother had caught the eye of
Mr. 
Wilkinson many moons ago, and that didn’t go over so hot at their church since he was a deacon and Mrs. Wilkinson taught Sunday school. Of course, they painted her mother as the aggressor, and Mr. Wilkinson swore nothing physical had happened between them.

To this day, Mrs. Wilkinson’s head spun full circle when she saw anyone with the last name of Cruz. That woman had already made Miranda’s life uncomfortable by lifting her nose in the air like Miranda was dirt every time they ran into each other. Which was often in a town the size of Red River. “Why didn’t she volunteer this year?”

“Apparently, she was late to the meeting. Not a lot of people were there because of Bea’s funeral today. Clydelle made a motion to vote on it tonight, Francine seconded the motion. Right before Mrs. Wilkinson walked in claiming someone had sliced one of her tires. Mom said Old Lady Wilkinson didn’t exactly take the news with grace. So watch out for her. She’s scary.”

The woman was way beyond scary. She was one hundred and fifty percent shouldn’t-be-allowed-to-operate-heavy-equipment-or-own-a-gun crazy.

And just like that, Miranda was back in the Wilkinsons’ crosshairs.

“Your ass went viral.” Jamie shouted at Miranda over the buzzing of the electric sander in her hands. He sat on a barstool behind the inn’s kitchen counter while she tried to keep some forward momentum going with the renovations. She’d lost valuable work time because of hosting the wake yesterday . . . and because her contractor was still AWOL.

“
What?
” She shouted back at him without looking away from the wood beam that ran across the dining room ceiling. Because surely she’d just heard him wrong. He did not just say—

“Your ass,” he yelled, “went viral!”

When Miranda jerked her head around to look at him, the old rickety ladder she stood on shook. She went still, regained her balance, and flipped the power switch to off. The handheld sander whirred to a stop, and she glared at her brother through orange safety goggles.

With a toss of his head, Jamie pushed his long, black bangs to one side and turned his laptop so she could see the YouTube video of her on all fours. The recording appeared a little off-color from behind goggles, but it was indeed her ass. Bared for all the world to see on YouTube, except for the thin silk layer of her sheer panties.

She clamped her eyes shut.

“Guess how many views you’ve gotten just since the wake yesterday?” Little brother sounded way too happy about her butt cheeks showing up on social media.

“I was trying to help Lloyd!”

“No really. Guess.”

“Shouldn’t you be defending my honor? Hunting down the delinquents who caused my humiliation?”

He smiled. When he leaned forward so he could see the screen, too, his bangs fell across one eye. “I’d rather give them a high five. This is sick stuff. You know how many years I’ve tried to find something this good to hold over your head?” He answered his own question. “Ever since you practiced cutting my hair because you were thinking of applying to beauty school.”

“It didn’t turn out that bad.” Sort of.

“You had to take me to the barber and have it shaved to the scalp.”

True. But on the upside, she’d realized becoming a hairstylist wasn’t her thing.

She rubbed her forehead. “Can’t you take the YouTube video down?”

Jamie shrugged. “Once it’s out there, it’s
out
there.” He didn’t look away from the screen. “Oh, wait. This is the good part.” He held up a finger for a second, eyes intent on the screen, then burst into fits of laughter.

“Don’t you have college classes to attend? Or do you just like wasting my money?”

He flipped his laptop around again. “Online class today.” He pointed to the screen and grabbed a cookie from the bin.