Asking for Trouble by Jannine Gallant Page A

His voice came out deep and low.
    Plucking a blade of grass, she shredded it. “Food. Drink. Companionship. Conversation.” She lifted one shoulder. “He’s a nice man.”
    “I suppose, but conversation is a stretch. The guy isn’t exactly chatty.”
    “Not that it’s any of your business, but we talked about art.”
    His brows shot up beneath the brim of his hat. “You expect me to believe that?”
    When Jackson started to fuss, Cole dug through the diaper bag, came up with a sippy cup, and rose to hand it to his nephew. Holding it in both hands, the baby drank before dropping it in the grass.
    “I don’t care if you believe it or not.” She stabbed a finger in his direction as he sat back down. “How do you think I felt, discovering you dated my new employee?” Her voice rose. “I suppose we can always compare notes about your technique in bed.”
    His hands flew up, palms out. “I didn’t sleep with her. Honest to God. We went out three times last December. I’m not going to lie and tell you I didn’t think about it, though.”
    Tears threatened, and a burning lump of emotion lodged in her throat. “What stopped you? Did Stephanie turn you down?”
    “No.” He dropped his hat on the grass and rubbed his hand through his hair. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you. It’s the reason I didn’t call her back. It’s the reason I’ve been living like a freaking monk since last fall.”
    Her jaw sagged. “You haven’t…”
    “No, not once since you walked away.”
    Her fingers shook as she pushed a curl behind her ear. “Neither have I.”
    He picked up her hand and held it in both of his, tightening his grip so she couldn’t pull out of his grasp. “About Gabe…”
    She stared at their clasped hands, unwilling to meet his gaze, afraid of what she’d do if she saw the desire that was sure to be reflected there. “He won’t be back.”
    He slumped against the steps. “No?”
    “No.”
    “I guess I shouldn’t push my luck by asking why.”
    “Wise decision.”
    His thumb stroked the inside of her wrist, sending shivers through her. She took a moment to get her emotions under control.
    At the feeder, two blue jays squawked as they jockeyed for position. Jezebel’s tail switched, but the cat didn’t move from her position curled next to Jackson on the grass. Thick, red lashes fanned rosy cheeks, his mouth slack in sleep.
    Cole nodded toward his slumbering nephew. “I took him for a ride on Chief earlier, and he missed his nap.”
    “The sun is on his face. We should take him inside.”
    Rising to his feet, Cole tugged her up beside him. His gaze drifted downward, then rose again to meet hers. The raw need she’d expected was missing. In its place was an emotion so deep, so full of pain and hope, her knees shook. Finally, he released her hand and turned away.
    Lifting Jackson in his arms, he carried him to the house and paused in the center of the living room. “Where should I put him?”
    “The spare room.”
    Leading the way into the cluttered space, she cleared a stack of quilting squares off the guest bed and dumped them on a table next to the sewing machine. Cole rested his cheek on the baby’s head and smiled before laying him on the bed.
    “Will he be okay there?”
    “He’ll be fine.”
    Miranda stared into his concerned eyes and pressed a hand to her chest. Maybe he’s changing. Maybe…
    She surrounded Jackson with decorator pillows so he wouldn’t roll off, and then slipped silently from the room behind Cole.
    Without a word, he walked over to stand in front of the sliding glass doors leading to the deck, his hands fisted on his hips. Unable to help herself, she stepped up behind him. The squeak of her bare foot against the hardwood floor must have betrayed her approach for he swung around to face her, but didn’t speak.
    A day’s growth of beard darkened his cheeks, and his hair stuck out at odd angles. Coupled with the determined gleam in his eyes, the man looked