Katherine Garbera - Miranda's Outlaw

Though the old man had died fifteen years ago, Luke had never reconciled with him and felt his father’s presence as keenly as he felt the absence of the land he should have inherited. He felt it fitting that his father still tried to control his life from beyond the grave. Fitting because he’d had the chance make peace with his father but chose instead to stay silent. A father should believe in his son always.

“Yes, but I’ll get you to your cabin.”

She nodded, sliding her feet into worn deck shoes. Her feet were long and slender with high arches and a delicate peach tint on her toenails. The color only a shade lighter than her lips.

Get busy, he ordered himself. He grabbed a canvas laun dry sack from his days on the road with the rodeo, tossing her wet clothes into it. “Do you need anything else from the car for tonight?”

“Yes,” she said, slinging the strap of the overnight bag over her shoulder. “I’ll go to the car with you.”

He realized she didn’t have a raincoat. The next time he saw Edgar Jennings he was going to kick his old, gnarled butt down the mountain. Why couldn’t he rent his cabin to someone who knew how to pack for this kind of weather? Someone who didn’t show up in the middle of the rainy season in a car without four-wheel drive. Someone who looked like Edgar and was about as friendly as a hungry alligator.

But the poncho leaked and the rain showed no sign of letting up. He shrugged out of his slicker and handed it to her. He had a duster upstairs in a box somewhere.

“Use this. I’ll be back in a minute.”

He climbed the stairs with a carefully measured stride and paused at the top. She stood in the middle of the room staring up at him from those brilliant crystal eyes. “If you go outside, take the flashlight from under the sink.”

Luke refused to acknowledge the small tightening as anything other than anger. He grabbed the duster from the bottom of the old cardboard box and ignored the items that spilled onto the floor. He stalked back down the stairs. Picking up her overnight bag and the laundry sack, he went outside.

Miranda stood by her car with a large bag slung over her shoulder and her grocery bag. “This is all I’ll need for now.”

The spring rain made the roads impossible even for the Suburban. The mountain was treacherous and malevolent toward the foolish and the stupid. Something Luke had learned the hard way. He took the grocery sack from her.

“Thanks.”

“Let’s go,” he said between clenched teeth. The path between his place and Miranda’s was difficult in full daylight, at night it was downright dangerous, but not impassable.

Luke cursed under his breath as a wet tree branch smacked against his shoulder. The rain had slowed but the water hung suspended in the leaves, showering them with a cold blast whenever the wind blew.

He shifted the overnight bag to his left hand where he held the flashlight. He reached back to help Miranda over a fallen log. She glanced at his hand, then at his face before placing her hand in his.

She would be happy to be rid of him. But he couldn’t leave her to fend for herself. He’d take care of her, whether she wanted him to or not. The thought of her lost out here haunted him like the memory of past mistakes.

A quarter of an hour later the ramshackle old hunting cabin came into view. The lack of light made the small wood structure look like a fright house at the fair. Luke knew from experience that it didn’t look much better during the day. But it was fairly sturdy.

He played the light over the front porch, checking for rodents. He glanced at Miranda wondering if she’d change her mind now. If she’d agree to go back to his place and then let him escort her off the mountain in the morning. He expected to see some sign of disappointment or revulsion.

“At last,” she said. “Just dump that bag inside the door.”

Luke was sure that the fatigue from the long day must have caught up with her. She’d brought a sack of junk food and had only two bags of possessions with her. She stared at that damned eyesore as though it was...home.

He didn’t think the run-down cabin was much of anything, but if his alternative housing was a small convertible he guessed he’d be more excited about the shack in front of him.

“Let me check inside,” he said gruffly. He didn’t want to like her, but he admired her grit. It was the one city trait he could relate to. He figured it was a kickback to Neanderthal times when humans had been forced to carve a place for themselves in the world—only the trappings had changed and the corporate world demanded as much from its challengers as Mother Nature did.

“That’s okay. I’ll take care of it. I’m sure you want to be on your way.”

“This place has been empty since last June. There could be all kinds of critters inside.”

“I’ll take my chances,” she said firmly.

He gritted his teeth. Luke had the feeling he’d just been dismissed. God save him from bossy women, he thought.

“Fine,” he said, but hesitated.

“What are you waiting for?” she asked.

Common sense to kick in, he thought wryly. “You to go inside.”

She frowned at him—an intimidating expression that made him want to grin. If he’d learned one thing about Miranda, it was that the woman liked things to be her way. He waited, living on the mountain had taught him patience.

“Very well. Thank you again for your help, Mr. Romero.”

“No problem, darlin’.”

He waited until she disappeared inside through the front door and he saw her light come on. He walked away knowing that it was the sensible thing to do.

A stubborn woman as a neighbor and raging hormones he’d thought he’d finally mastered. He wanted her and he damned himself for it.

Three

Luke’s cabin was deserted when Miranda arrived three days later. She left a basket of chocolate chip cookies on the front porch. She’d scraped all of the black burnt stuff off the bottoms and they looked pretty good. Her mother had been so excited when she’d called to get the recipe from her. She’d baked eight dozen cookies, but had only been able to rescue a few.

Determined to tackle nature and take control of her surroundings, she stepped off his porch and retrieved her fishing gear from the ground. She planned on catching dinner today. The thought of eating another peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich made her cringe. She’d eaten so much junk food in the past two days that she’d had trouble sleeping. Focusing on the disturbing images of those chocolate brown eyes or that twinkling stud earring hadn’t helped.

She picked her way across the meadow. The mountain that seemed so malevolent toward her that first night, now apologized with a beautiful spring day. The air still had a chill to it, but the sun promised warmth. She spread her arms and lifted her head, drinking in the beauty that surrounded her.

The tow-truck driver who had dropped her car off this morning had talked endlessly about the weather, the tourist season and the wildflowers blooming in the meadow. Friendly chitchat that had no point. She’d been at a loss as to what to say. Miranda wanted to ask questions about Luke but knew in a small community such as this one the gossip would flow steadily out of control. So instead she’d held her tongue, leaving her imagination free to create whatever images it wanted to.

The detailed tattoo danced through her mind. The tanned skin underneath the hawk made her fingers long to caress him. She wanted to test the resilience of the padded muscles on his back.

Enough, she thought. Her laptop computer and modem would be installed tomorrow afternoon. She wanted something to occupy her time. The mountain, though pretty, still wasn’t an environment she felt comfortable in. Her adjustment time was taking longer than she’d expected, but the only obstacle she’d been unable to conquer was her own body’s weakness. She knew in a few weeks she’d find the balance she was seeking and she’d have something familiar to concentrate on instead of Luke Romero and his disturbing sensuality.