Asking for Trouble Page 2

“She’ll be fine once the trauma of the initial break wears off. Just so you know, I made her promise only two phone calls per day to check up on Jackson. Make sure you only report the good stuff.” Bending, he rested his cheek on his son’s head, a flash of deep emotion clouding his eyes. “We’ll see you in ten days.”

  Cole’s heart pounded as his brother crossed the room and closed the door behind him with a firm click. A moment later, the sound of a car engine faded into the night. Taking a deep breath, he looked into Jackson’s curious brown eyes. Reaching up a chubby hand, the baby pulled his nose and laughed.

  “At least you’re happy about this.” He glanced around the room. “I suppose I should put your stuff away.” Setting the baby in the playpen Davis had set up, he toted a box of food into the kitchen. After stacking jars of carrots, peaches and disgusting looking meats beside boxes of cereal and a tower of chocolate bars in the pantry, he dumped a half dozen plastic sippy cups into a drawer filled with placemats he never used. When a scratching sound from the other room caught his attention, he stuck his head around the doorway.

  “Jesus! Where the hell did you find that?” Rushing forward, he grabbed the hoof pick out of his nephew’s clenched fist and stared in horror at the long gouge in the coffee table beside the playpen. When his knees threatened to buckle, he sank onto the couch.

  Jackson waved his hands and shouted some unintelligible baby talk.

  “No. That thing could hurt you. How about an elephant?” Lifting the floppy-eared animal from a box of toys, he offered it forward.

  The baby screwed up his face and let loose a howl the neighbors a quarter mile away could probably hear. Imagining Andee’s reaction if Child Protective Services were called to investigate, he searched for a solution.

  “All right, no elephant. Let’s try a bear.”

  Jackson tossed the bedraggled Teddy across the room with impressive strength, knocking over a lamp and shattering the bulb.

  “Well, shit!” Picking up the shrieking baby, he bounced him in his arms. “Come on, man, work with me.”

  Gulping for air, Jackson cried even louder, his face turning a shade of crimson Cole had only seen in cartoons. Surely his head would explode if he didn’t let up soon.

  Sweat broke across his brow as he jostled his nephew a little harder. “Nothing is that bad. You can’t be hungry. Andee said you just ate.” He bent to sniff the baby’s padded butt. “Nope, you smell okay, so it’s not that. Maybe some alone time?”

  Lowering him into the playpen, he took a couple of steps back. Jackson’s eyes narrowed before he pounded his forehead against the covered railing.

  “Stop that!” Picking him up again, he strode around the pile of baby equipment and headed outside, hoping fresh air would calm the tantrum.

  Tucker scrambled to his feet from his bed on the porch. The tail poised to wag drooped as the dog let out a howl. Cole clamped his free hand over one ear and winced. The clamor rose in volume as Jackson kicked and screamed, arms flailing. One swinging fist caught him in the nose, and stars exploded behind closed eyelids. Dropping onto the top porch step, he hung his head and waited for the pain to ease.

  When he was certain he wasn’t going to pass out, he juggled Jackson to the side, fished his cell phone from his pocket and scrolled through the contacts. One name jumped out, the solution to all his problems—if she didn’t hang up on him. Cole pushed the button and prayed.

  When a soft voice caressed his ear, he let out a shaky breath. “Help.”

  Chapter Two

  A faint voice spoke through the screams of a baby who was surely being tortured. The words were indistinct, but something about the tone was familiar… “Cole?”

  “Of course it’s me. Please, Miranda, you have to…”

  The shrieking increased in volume, drowning out whatever he was saying. But it didn’t take a genius to guess what he wanted—help dealing with Jackson. A smile lifted the corners of her lips. Served him right. What she should do was hang up and let him suffer. From the sound of it, though, Cole wasn’t the only miserable party. And Andee was a good friend…

  Clicking the phone shut, she shoved it in her purse. Letting him stew in agony for the length of time it would take her to drive across town was modest payback for the tears she’d shed last fall.

  After grabbing a light jacket and her keys from the hook by the door, she strolled outside. Stars filled the sky, but the evening was cool rather than cold. No point in rushing to the rescue when she could enjoy the drive.

  Cruising through the neighborhood of small homes with neatly trimmed front lawns, Miranda braked for a pair of teenage girls crossing the road. Their laughter floated on the breeze as they hurried up a driveway to a brightly lit house. Inside the modest homes lining the quiet street, kids finished their homework, women washed dinner dishes, and families gathered around the TV. At least she imagined as much. Ordinary family time. A sigh slipped through her lips. It’s what she’d fantasized sharing with Cole when their relationship turned serious, before he made it clear he wasn’t interested in pursuing the American dream of two point five children, a dog and a mini-van. Not that he had anything against dogs.

  She should have believed all his laughing comments about kids strangling the life out of a man and sapping his independence. She should have backed away before it was too late—before he’d won her heart and broken it. Falling for a man who didn’t really exist, one whose values were so different from her own, had been sheer stupidity. If ripping him out of her life had nearly killed her, she had no one to fault but herself. Still, it was far more satisfying to lay the blame squarely at Cole Matheson’s boot clad feet.

  Turning onto Main Street, her VW chugged past businesses closed for the night. Only the Rusty Nail Saloon showed signs of life with several pickups parked in the lot beside it. Making a left turn onto Piney Wood Lane, she glanced up the long drive leading to the mayor’s sprawling mansion where a bevy of yard ornaments were mere shadows in the night. On the outskirts of town, only the glow from an occasional porch light relieved the darkness. Making one final turn, her car bounced along the rutted track leading to Cole’s cabin and shook loose the suspicion she was making a huge mistake. Jackson would survive a dose of his uncle’s inept care, but her heart might not fare so well. Parking beside his battered red pickup, she killed the engine. Too late now to second guess her mission of mercy.

  After climbing from the car, she shut the door and stood for a moment to soak in the familiar surroundings. Chief whickered softly from the corral behind her, hooves thumping the packed earth. Between the stable and the cabin, starlight illuminated a life-sized moose with an impressive rack of antlers. The metal clink of dog tags alerted her to Tucker’s presence moments before the ridgeback pushed his nose against her hand. Dropping to her knees, she rubbed his silky ears.

  “How are you, boy? I’m not sure who I missed more, you or Cole.” When the dog whined in pleasure, she smiled and scratched harder. “How come you’re outside at this hour?”

  The silence erupted in a muted shriek of rage from the direction of the cabin, followed by a sharp expletive. If Jackson had been sleeping before, he wasn’t any longer.

  “Now I know why you’re out here.” She gave the dog a final pat. “I don’t blame you one bit, but I’ll do my best to restore your peace and quiet.”

  Reluctantly, Miranda rose to her feet. Time to play hero and rescue her ex from his miniature tormentor.

  The baby was in full tantrum mode by the time she reached the porch. Figuring knocking would be pointless, she opened the front door and crossed the threshold into the battle zone. Baby paraphernalia was strewn across the room, and a shattered lamp lay near the leather couch where some gooey, tan substance pooled on a cushion. Even knowing Cole as well as she did, she hadn’t expected the extent of the mayhem. Giving the door a hard slam, she smiled when two pairs of brown eyes turned in her direction.

  “Having fun?”

  “You came.”

  Wer
e those tears welling in his eyes? A closer look revealed only one watering cornea, probably the result of an encounter with a waving finger. It was almost as red and angry looking as the baby in his arms. He stepped over the fallen lamp and held out his nephew.

  Taking Jackson from his grasp, Miranda cuddled the boy and made shushing noises. The crying petered out with a few final, hiccupped sobs. Resting his tear-stained face against her breast, the baby closed his eyes.

  “How the hell did you do that?”

  Miranda stared at Cole over the top of Jackson’s head and frowned. “I’m relaxed, and he senses that. It gives him a feeling of security. You, on the other hand, are a bundle of nerves, not exactly soothing to a child.”

  “Well damn, if I’d known popping tranquilizers would shut him up, I would have gotten a prescription.” He dropped onto the couch cushion beside the gooey mess and held his head in his hands. “Ten days of this will kill me. What in the name of God was my brother thinking, leaving his kid with me?”

  “Davis mistakenly assumed you were a responsible adult.” The sweet, baby scent of Jackson teased her senses, and she breathed deep. “Watching a child for a few days isn’t exactly rocket science. Even you should be able to cope.”

  Glancing up, he gestured around the room. “You can see how well that’s going.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Since Jackson is clearly exhausted, where would you like me to put him?”

  “There’s a crib in the guest bedroom. Davis set it up before he left.” He heaved a sigh. “The kid actually fell asleep after I called you, but when I tried to lay him in the bed, he woke up.”

  Stepping around overflowing boxes, she headed toward the back of the cabin. “You probably dropped him. Come along, my helpless friend, and I’ll give you a lesson in the art of keeping sleeping babies asleep.”

  He stepped up behind her when she stopped beside the crib and rested one hand on her shoulder. The warmth of his fingers seeped through the fabric of her cotton shirt, branding her. A quiver worked its way down her spine as he chuckled softly.

  “Name calling doesn’t bother me one bit. I’ll be the first to admit I’m a complete and utter failure at child care.”

  She glanced back at him. “You don’t have to be, Cole. Maybe you could use this time to change that.”

  “I’m willing to learn a few survival skills—if you’ll teach me.”

  Her heart thumped so hard surely Jackson could feel it. But she would not get sucked in by Cole’s smooth lines and winning smiles. Not again.

  Taking a deep breath, she let it out slowly. “Start by lowering the side of the crib.” Her tone was all business. “Generally, you want to do that before you pick up the baby.”

  “It lowers?”

  “Of course it lowers. See those latches?”

  “Got it.” Releasing the fasteners, he slid the side rail down.

  Stepping closer, Miranda eased Jackson onto the mattress. His face crinkled up for a moment then smoothed into peaceful slumber. After covering him with a light blanket, she stroked his back.

  “What a sweetie.” Lifting the side of the crib, she waited for the distinct click. “Did you hear that?”

  Cole nodded.

  “Make sure it locks. You don’t want it sliding down. Jackson could climb right out—or roll onto the floor.”

  His hand hovered over the light switch. “Do we turn them off?”

  “Maybe leave a nightlight burning so you can see if you have to come in during the night.”

  His eyes widened and lips twisted in an expression of sheer horror. “You mean he might wake up?”

  She couldn’t suppress a smile. “There is that possibility. Some babies wake up after a few hours. Generally, if you stroke their backs and talk quietly or sing, they’ll go back to sleep.”

  “Sing!”

  When Jackson stirred in his bed, she scowled at Cole and lowered her voice another notch. “Yes, sing. Lullabies. Ever heard one?”

  “Probably not since I was his age.” He hitched his chin toward the crib, and then sighed. “I don’t have a nightlight.”

  “I’m sure Andee included one in his stuff. You can find it tomorrow.” Crossing the room to the full-size bed, she flipped the switch on the table lamp. “For tonight, we’ll leave this on.” Passing him on the way out of the room, she turned off the overhead light. “Mission accomplished. Crisis averted.”

  He followed her back to the main room, glanced around and shuddered. “I don’t even know where to start.”

  Crossing her arms over her chest, she narrowed her eyes. “Is that a ploy to keep me here longer just in case he wakes up?”

  His head jerked up. “You aren’t leaving, are you?”

  “I’m certainly not spending the night.”

  “Why not?”

  Her mouth opened, and she gaped like a hooked fish. “What do you mean, why not?”

  “It wouldn’t be the first time.” His tone was husky, his eyes smoldering. “And it doesn’t have to be the last.”

  Her face heated. Clenching her jaw until her teeth ached, she marched away from temptation.

  “I’m sorry!” Leaping over a box of stuffed animals, he threw himself against the door. “Please don’t go, at least until after we get this mess cleaned up.”

  “Will you stop making comments like that?”

  “If you insist.” His smile was cautious. “It’s just so good to see you, Miranda. I’ve missed you.”

  She rubbed the back of her neck, trying to ease the tension. Staying was just asking for trouble. But he looked so pathetic and out of his element… “I’ll help you clean up and then go.”

  “Thank you. I owe you—big time.”

  She bent to pick up a bear with a ripped ear and dropped it into a box of stuffed animals. “Yes you do. Go get a broom and dust pan for the broken glass. I’ll take these toys into the guest room since I’m pretty sure you’ll wake up the baby if you do it.”

  “I probably would. My mom used to say I sounded like a herd of wildebeests coming down the stairs in the morning.” Whistling a cheerful tune, he headed toward the kitchen.

  Despite her bitchy attitude, he was all smiles and sweetness. Damn him. Keeping the wall up around her heart was taking twice the effort she’d expected. Lifting a box of children’s books, she carried it into Jackson’s room and set it next to the bed. The faster she finished cleaning up the mess in the living room, the less time she’d be exposed to Cole’s brand of insidious persuasion. After tiptoeing past the crib, she raced back for the next box.

  In less than fifteen minutes, she had the clothes and toys stored in the guest room, the highchair situated next to the kitchen table and was hard at work scrubbing the food off the couch. She glanced up when Cole screwed a new light bulb into the lamp and snapped it on.

  “Too bad the coffee table won’t be so easy to fix. Did Jackson do that?”

  With an answering nod, he ran a finger along the gouge in the wood. “I suppose I can sand it.” His face lost some of its color, and he dropped onto the couch next to the wet patch. “I keep thinking about what he could have done with that hoof pick if I hadn’t taken it away when I did.”

  “Don’t.” The word echoed in the stillness of the room. She softened her tone. “It’ll only make you crazy, and nothing irreparable happened.”

  He slumped against the cushions. “I should have told Davis no. Not for my sake, but for Jackson’s.” He turned a thoughtful gaze in her direction. “Maybe you could take him. He loves you. More importantly, he responds to you. Must be because you both have red hair.”

  Her hand stilled before she carefully folded the wet rag. “Or it could just be the fact that he recognizes a dependable adult.” She hesitated and then shook her head. “I could watch him for you, but I won’t. And don’t try to make me feel guilty about it because it isn’t going to work.”

  His lips pressed together in a grim line. “I don’t suppose you have any reason to do me a favor.”
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br />   “No. I don’t, but that isn’t why I’m turning you down. Caring for Jackson will be good for you.”

  He snorted. “Diaper changing isn’t a skill I’m going to need in the future. I don’t intend to have kids. And no offense, but I’d rather shovel horse shit for a living than set up a babysitting service.”

  A pulse throbbed painfully at her temples. “I haven’t forgotten. What was your charming comment on the subject?” She snapped her fingers. “That’s right. You said having kids was like wearing neckties. With little effort, they could choke the life out of a man.”

  “I said that?”

  She dropped the wet, gooey rag on the coffee table, not caring if it took the finish off the damn thing. After shrugging on her jacket, she turned to face him. “You did.”

  “Wow, I didn’t know I was so poetic.”

  She pivoted on her heel and marched toward the door. Feet thumped behind her, and hands clamped down on her shoulders.

  “I was joking.”

  “Not funny.”

  “Maybe not.” He pulled her back against his chest, his grip tightening when she struggled to get loose. “With you, I’m not afraid to be myself and say whatever pops into my head. Maybe that’s why you walked away, but I found it relaxing, never pretending to be something I’m not.”

  For a moment, she leaned against him. “That sounds like such a compliment.”

  “It is.”

  “But it doesn’t change the facts. We want different things out of life. Our relationship would have had to end at some point. I figured sooner was better than later.”

  “I was willing to talk about long term. I’ve got nothing against marriage, and we were so good together.” His sigh stirred her hair. “You’re the one who bolted, so why did I end up feeling like the bad guy.”

  She turned to face him. Six months ago, neither one of them had been willing to expose their emotions. Maybe a few things needed to be said. Maybe hearing the words spoken aloud would excise the old feelings that continued to plague her. The same ones she feared caused her to sabotage new relationships. If she didn’t stop comparing every man she met to Cole…