way out, I’m not that kind of man. We need to talk about what happened between us. We both acknowledge that we made a mistake. And we need to be adult about it and move on. And I agree—the information should not leave this room.”
“Permission to speak freely?”
“Of course.”
“Listen, you’re new here and so you don’t know everyone’s back stories, their personal little tragedies or idiosyncrasies, so I’m going to do you a solid and let you in on mine. I’m not a girl who snuggles. I’m not looking for a man to save or protect me. I take my fun where I can find it and I don’t apologize for it. You came along at the right time and fulfilled a need. I’m sorry if that sounds crass or unladylike or vulgar, but the bottom line is I had an itch and you were there to scratch it. I do my job well and, contrary to what the admins thought, I would’ve been a hell of a director. So, what I came in here to say is what I would’ve said regardless. This is my town and I care about the people who live here. I will hold you to a higher standard and just because you’re the boss doesn’t mean that I won’t tell you exactly how I feel about any given topic regarding my people.”
Jeremiah absorbed her statement. On one hand, he could appreciate her stark honesty. On the other hand, he could tell why she hadn’t been selected as the director. The administrator didn’t have the luxury of saying whatever he or she felt or believed at any given moment. Tact, patience, knowing when to keep your mouth shut were valuable assets that Miranda apparently didn’t value. “I’ve read your file. I know you’re a damn fine tracker. I know you come from this town. Though what I don’t know is why you have a reckless streak and a dangerous problem with authority.”
Miranda’s mouth tightened, clearly irritated by the information that’d been shared with him. “Who said I was reckless?”
Jeremiah shook his head, not interested in playing a “he said, she said” game. “Not important. What is important is the intel. The fact that you grabbed a stranger off the street to have sex, without knowing a thing about me, proves the information valid.”
“Are you judging me?” Miranda’s eyes flashed, revealing a hot temper. “What kind of man goes home with the first woman he lays eyes on in a strange town?”
“A man ending a long self-imposed celibacy with a beautiful woman who openly propositioned him.” He shifted, mildly irritated at being drawn into a fight. His point was rapidly becoming lost. “Miranda, if you don’t want to tell me your reasons, then don’t. But I would advise you not to pick a fight with your superior on the first day.”
His advice seemed to hit home. Miranda looked away, and he could tell she was mentally biting her tongue. Perhaps something she wasn’t used to doing. “Duly noted.” She drew a deep breath and retrained her focus. “In addition to being the best tracker in the area, aside from my brother Trace, I’m in charge of keeping on top of the poachers in the area. If you’d like I can send you a couple of the files I’ve been working on.”
“That would be appreciated.” His mind should’ve been on business, but there was something about her that made it difficult to stay focused. He wanted to know what compelled her to pick up strange men. He wanted to know how many men there had been before him. All manner of questions that he had no business thinking or wondering. “Poachers are everywhere. Same scum, different day. You say you’ve been keeping track of a few? Anyone else on this?”
“No, it’s sort of my baby. My passion, if you will.”
“Send me some of your files and I’ll give them a read. I can’t promise I’ll get to them today but I will definitely try to look over the data by the end of the week.”
She accepted his answer. “Good. I look forward to your thoughts. Welcome to the team.”
Miranda didn’t waste any time with chitchat or idle conversation. She blew out as quickly as she blew in. Jeremiah wondered just how complicated his relationship was going to be with the woman. He’d give anything to forget that last night had ever happened. But he’d long given up wishing that he could change the past. His intimate connection with Miranda Sinclair was just one more thing he would learn to deal with.
* * *
MIRANDA SAT HEAVILY in her chair and realized her hands were shaking. Damn, why couldn’t she just push him from her mind like every other man? She talked a good game, but everything was too fresh, the memories too vivid to simply move on as if it’d simply been another encounter. As if the sex had been mediocre. That probably would have made things a lot easier. A crappy one-and-done certainly didn’t compel a girl to chase after another round.
But that wasn’t the case. He’d certainly known his way around a woman’s body. He had skill. Which, of course, begged the question, why was he single? Not that she cared. But she was naturally curious. She sensed a bigger back story behind those soulful eyes. Don’t dig. She shouldn’t care what his story was.
She placed her fingers behind her head and leaned back in her chair. Maybe she needed some target practice. The familiar weight of a gun in her hand always seemed to soothe the ragged nerves. She liked to imagine she was putting that laser sight right between the eyes of the bastard who’d killed her sister. Of course, she didn’t know who that person was because Simone’s killer had never been found. So in her imagination there was always a blank face staring back at her.
The phone rang, interrupting her dark thoughts, and she picked up the receiver almost gratefully. That was until she heard her mother’s voice on the other end.
“What is wrong with you?”
“That’s a loaded question, don’t you think?” Miranda answered with just enough sarcasm to really piss her mom off. “What’s the problem?”
“Don’t play innocent with me. I know it was you who called that lady. Now I’ve got these strangers in my business.”
Miranda withheld the sigh. The organizer must have paid her mother a visit. “Mom, you need help. I thought Paula could help you get things started.” She took a deep breath, fighting the urge to slam the receiver down in her mother’s ears. “No reason to get all pissy about it.”
“Watch your mouth. And I don’t appreciate you sending nosy people into my house to tell me how I should live. And your father isn’t happy about it, either,” her mother added for emphasis. “You’re scaring away business.”
Miranda felt a flare of familiar anger bubble up in her chest. “What business? Are you talking about the nonexistent business he makes from his carvings? Or his thriving pot business?”
“You know damn well your father only uses marijuana for medicinal purposes. Stop making him sound like a criminal.”
“Mom, you know he sells his pot for money. That is illegal. And I’m not having this conversation with you. Particularly while I’m at work. In case you’ve forgotten I work for a federal agency.”
“I never asked for your help. I don’t need an organizer. And I wish you’d stop foisting your ideas onto me.”
“Fine, Mom. I was just trying to help.”
Her mother, slightly mollified by the muttered apology, moved on to a different subject that was equally controversial in their family. “I don’t like Talen spending so much time with that woman.”
And by that woman, her mother was referencing Talen’s paternal grandmother, Ocalena. “You should take your own advice and stop poking your nose into business that isn’t yours. Talen loves his grandmother and she’s a good woman. You need to stop ripping on her.”
Her mother sniffed, “Well, we all have our opinions now, don’t we? Forgive me if I am uncomfortable with my only grandson spending so much time with a loony Indian. It can’t be healthy that she fills his head with all sorts of stories about that father of his.”
Ah, the familiar argument about Talen’s father. One of her mother’s favorite topics. “There’s no need to pound it into