Houston and her new job was her future. Bluebonnet was her past. And that past now included a very torrid week with Dane Croft.
She held up a hand in front of her face, blocking the camera. “Can I talk to you, Brenna?”
The assistant cocked her head and studied Miranda with piercing green eyes. “Sure.”
She moved to the edge of the trees, away from the others, and waited for Brenna to follow. When the assistant did, Miranda pitched her story, careful to place a hand on her lower abdomen and look pained.
Her excuse? Girl problems.
Brenna looked sympathetic, and when Miranda said she wanted to leave early, even escorted her out to her car. She had to sign some paperwork certifying that she’d finished the class, but within a few minutes of arriving back, she pulled her car out of the gravel parking lot and was turning onto the highway, her mind whirling.
Okay, so she’d just run away from her problems. Cowardly, yes. But it was for the best. A nice, clean break with Dane would be easiest.
After all, it had been a nice clean break nine years ago, hadn’t it?
Sort of?
“Here we go,” Dane said, forcing a cheerful note to his voice as he clapped George on the back. Brenna had set up the finish line again and tooted her celebratory horn as he led the older man back to the finish line. Others stood around and clapped, laughing and smiling. They looked happy. Dane was glad.
Right now, he was just tired. It had been a long week and he wanted to crawl into a shower, and then crawl into bed.
Preferably both with Miranda at his side. She’d been quiet that morning, no doubt wondering how their relationship was going to last now that the class was over. She probably thought they were just f**k buddies, and he’d seen a hint of something in her eyes last night. Something had been bothering her.
And he knew, after seeing that unease and unhappiness in her eyes, that he wanted to take care of it for her. Wanted to be there for her. And it seemed he’d never really gotten Miranda out of his system, had he? Even now, they’d spent a few hours apart and he craved seeing her, scanned the crowd for her pretty, flushed face and that long sweep of silky brown hair that made him hard as a rock when it brushed against him.
Nine years and it had felt like it was just yesterday that he was holding hands with Miranda after graduation, lusting after her.
Being with her had reset something cold and hard in his system. Something that he hadn’t liked in himself. The part of him that had withered when he’d quit hockey. It was back now. Damned inconvenient timing, but you didn’t get to choose when you felt yourself stirring back to life again.
Sometimes life just happened.
So Dane shook hands and smiled and posed for photos with his students for a time, but he didn’t see Miranda. Bathroom break? Had she run off to freshen up? He kept glancing around, looking for her, waiting to hear her sultry laugh.
A big hand clapped him on the shoulder, and he turned to see Colt grinning at him. “Good week.”
“Good enough,” said Dane evasively. “How’d it go on your end?”
“Uneventfully,” Colt said. He crossed his arms over his chest and nodded at the group milling around. “Everyone passed, though there were one or two that had no sense of direction and needed some help. Thought we were gonna starve on day two, but they figured it out after a while.” He eyed Dane. “You?”
“One fool,” he said, thinking of Pete. “Other than that, no complaints.”
“So how was Miranda?” Colt asked. “She whine the whole time about getting her hands dirty or something?”
He forced himself not to stiffen or act evasive. Why was Colt asking about Miranda specifically? “She was a real trouper,” he said. “No complaints.”
“Huh,” Colt shrugged. “I remember her being friends with Beth Ann, is all. That blonde is way high maintenance. Thought Miranda’d be a little more prissy and scared of the woods. So what made her sign up?”
“I didn’t ask,” he said. Was Colt fishing for information? What did he think he knew? Dane wanted to talk to him privately—Grant, too—but with all the clients around, now was not the time to have a discussion about the client he’d been sleeping with. He knew Grant was not going to react to the news well. They needed quiet, and a bit of time to wind down from the class before he let them know about Miranda and him. And if they didn’t like it, well, it wasn’t any of their business.
Plus, he really just wanted to find Miranda at the moment. “Listen, I thought she’d be able to find it back on her own, but I might need to go rescue her.”
“She’s already come and gone,” Colt said with a shrug.
His eyes narrowed and focused on the other man. “What?”
“Like I said, gone.” Colt turned away, done with the conversation.
Frustrated, Dane scanned the small crowd and saw Grant’s tall form in the distance. He plowed through the crowd and approached his friend, who was messing with a tripod. “Where’d Miranda Hill go?”
Grant shrugged, double-checking the settings on his camera. “Saw her chatting with Brenna and then she hightailed it out of here fast. Shame she’s gonna miss the team photo.”
Had to be a mistake. Miranda had come in his arms so sweetly last night. She’d liked him. Trusted him enough to let him tie her up. Hell, trusted him enough to f**k him like her life depended on it. Surely she wouldn’t have left without giving him her phone number. Something.
He stalked off after Brenna.
“Good to see you, too,” Grant said drily as he walked away.
Brenna was busy at her little table, filling out certificates and chatting with the clients. She gave him a cool sideways glance under her long lashes. “’Sup, Dane?”
“Where’d Miranda Hill go? I don’t see her here with the rest.”
She looked unconcerned, and returned to filling out the latest certificate. “She left already.”
Disbelief flared. “What do you mean, she left already?”
“I mean she left already,” Brenna said slowly, as if she were speaking to someone mentally incompetent. “She got in her car and left. Said she was done here anyhow.”
What the fuck? Was she cutting and running? Why? “Un-f**king-believable.”
“Oh, don’t get your panties in a bunch,” Brenna said, misunderstanding his reaction. “We can take the team picture without her. One person isn’t going to make a difference.” When he said nothing, she added, “It wasn’t because she was unhappy with the class or anything. Said she was real pleased. I think she was sick.”
Sick? He shot Brenna a look of disbelief. “She was sick and you let her go off on her own?”
Brenna gave him a look of disbelief, lifting her pen from the endless pile of paperwork. “Are you serious? What was I supposed to do? Cling to her leg as she tried to get into her car? You want me to do that to everyone that tries to leave? I hate to break it to you, Dane, but every single one of these people is going home today.”
He ran a hand down his face and sighed. “Never mind. Just give me her contact information.”
Brenna pulled one folder out from the stack on her folding table, grumbling about how she preferred it when he was out in the field. “Here,” she said finally, flipping through the waivers and handing him one.
Miranda’s curly handwriting stared up at him. He remembered it from high school, from the notes she’d passed him. Seeing it now brought back a surge of memories. Without asking, he grabbed Brenna’s sat phone off the table and dialed the number Miranda had given.
It picked up on the second ring. “Bluebonnet Library,” said a sour voice.
Okay, that was unexpected. “Miranda there?”
“Ms. Hill no longer works here.”
So why’d she give a bogus number? He murmured his thanks and hung up, then stared at the paper to make sure he hadn’t misread it. The address caught his eye.
1 Honeycomb Drive. He knew that address—it was the high school, named after the school mascot of the Bluebonnet Bees. “You don’t go into the city much, do you, Brenna?”
“Should I?” she asked, wrinkling her freckled nose. “Do I need to be familiar with the city, too?”
Dane sighed and handed her back the paper and the phone. Brenna wasn’t local. She didn’t know what anyone in Bluebonnet would have immediately picked up on. “Never mind.”
Why had Miranda given bad information at the beginning of the week? Why so secretive? It didn’t make sense. She wasn’t the type to come up with fake addresses just to be a jackass about it. She’d genuinely not wanted anyone to contact her when they were done.
Fuck that. He was heading into town as soon as they were done here, because he wanted to know what the hell was going on and why she’d run off.
He was starting to think she’d lied. Maybe she was married after all. If she was…hell. He didn’t know what he was going to do. The thought made him want to punch something.
Miranda should have headed home first. She was tired and hungry, and she needed a shower. Most of all, she needed to have a good cry and figure out her head.
Still, instead of heading home, she found herself turning down Main Street and parking in front of California Dreamin’. There were two cars already parked there, so Beth Ann was busy, but Miranda didn’t care. Grabbing her keys, she headed inside.
Beth Ann’s tiny salon had one chair in the waiting area, and it was occupied. In the waiting area, a teenager with orange-dyed hair and blue bangs flipped through a hairstyle magazine. Across the room in the barber chair, a white-haired elderly woman had her curls teased into a bouffant by Beth Ann.
Beth Ann glanced up and her eyes widened at the sight of Miranda. “You’re back,” she exclaimed, her lovely face breaking into a smile. “How’d it go?”
Miranda leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. “Not…well.”
“Hold on just a sec,” Beth Ann said, and finished brushing the last stiff curl into place in old Mrs. Porter’s hair. “There you go, Janey. All good for this week.”
The old woman put on her glasses and paid, departing in a cloud of hairspray and powdery perfume.
The teenager stood and Beth Ann turned to her. “Can I get you to reschedule, Laini?”
The girl rolled her eyes. “You serious?”
Beth Ann opened the front door and scooped up a piece of paper, holding it out. “I’ll give you a free mani if you come back tomorrow.”
“See you then,” she drawled, grinning, and snatched the ticket from Beth Ann.
Beth Ann flipped her OUT TO LUNCH sign and then shut the door, turning to Miranda with wide eyes. “Tell me everything.”
Miranda dropped into the barber chair Mrs. Porter had vacated. It still smelled of powder. “I don’t even know where to begin,” she said wearily.
Beth Ann automatically reached for her hair and then recoiled. “God, Miranda. I don’t mean to be mean, but you stink like smoke and dirt.”
“Do I?” She sniffed her shirt, but really couldn’t tell. Dane hadn’t seemed to mind her smell at all, but maybe he’d smelled the same and she’d been around it so long she couldn’t tell. The scent of campfire would always remind her of Dane after this point. She sighed. “Oh, Beth Ann, I totally messed this one up.”