You didn’t want it, though, did you? she reminded herself. You wanted to be a corporate big shot, and now you are.
Right. She shelved the last book and resisted the urge to dust and straighten. That was someone else’s job now. She turned the corner and nearly ran into a student.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Miranda said with a smile, recognizing Trisha Ellis. “I didn’t see you there.”
The girl’s face widened into a smile, and for a moment, Miranda thought she was going to hug her. “Ms. Hill—I am so glad to see you. I can’t find the teen books!”
Inwardly, Miranda groaned. Not again. “Did you check in our normal hiding place under the nine hundreds?”
“They’re not there, and the fake slipcovers you made are gone,” she said, her expression crushed. “I think they took them off the shelves again.”
It had been an ongoing battle with the city council, who thought the books that teenagers were reading were trash. They didn’t seem to understand how wonderful it was that they were reading at all, so Miranda had purchased her own small library of popular teen novels and shelved them with fake jackets that a few of the students had helped her create. They were the most popular section in the library.
“I’ll check with Mrs. Murellen,” Miranda said, heading toward the counter. Trisha trotted on her heels close behind.
There was no one at the counter, books stacked everywhere, the return bin overflowing. Trisha immediately started to pick through the return bin, looking for missed favorites. Miranda slipped behind the counter and went to the back office, knocking softly. No response. She opened the door.
Mrs. Murellen sat behind her desk, chin propped on a hand, snoring.
“Mrs. Murellen,” Miranda said, her voice sharp. “Wake up.”
The older woman snorted awake, and peered at Miranda. “Oh my goodness. Did you come back for your job?”
“No—”
Mrs. Murellen looked sad. “Oh.”
“Someone here is looking for the teen reading books. Where did you move them to?”
“I took them off the shelves,” Mrs. Murellen said, adjusting her glasses as she stood up. “Did you know that they were about vampires? Sexy vampires? Terrible stuff.”
“They’re perfectly fine,” Miranda explained, going through the shelf of books in the tiny office. Sure enough, it was crammed full of P. C. Cast, Richelle Mead, and Stephenie Meyer, as well as anything that had a teenager on the cover. She sighed and grabbed several of them off the shelf.
“Those are going to be removed from circulation—”
“No they’re not,” Miranda said firmly, and handed them to an excitedly waiting Trisha. “I think we should talk.”
Miranda spent the next hour straightening up at the library, doing her best not to lecture Mrs. Murellen, and reshelving the teen literature. She couldn’t be mad—it was obvious Mrs. Murellen didn’t want to be Bluebonnet’s only librarian; she’d offered Miranda her job back three times in a half hour. When that didn’t work, she tried to get Miranda’s advice on what to spend Dane’s donation on—she had no idea what books to buy, and didn’t know where to start.
Miranda came up with a list of bestsellers that she’d had her eye on and wrote Mrs. Murellen a lengthy shopping detail, as well as a to-do list of chores that she was neglecting. Miranda shouldn’t have come back. Her mind was now filled with treacherous ideas. Ideas of returning and running things with a firmer hand. Ideas of how to spend the money Dane had donated.
Ideas of driving over to the Daughtry Ranch and throwing Dane down on the floor, apologizing, and then making love to him until the sun came up.
But she’d burned that bridge.
Across town, Beth Ann picked up her phone and dialed. “Wilderness Survival Expeditions,” a gruff voice said.
Great, she’d gotten Colt. “This is Beth Ann. Let me talk to Dane.”
“He’s out.” Short, abrupt. Why was she not surprised? The man acted like it was a crime to string more than two words together.
“Why is he out?” she persisted.
“Class.”
“Yeah, well, you’d better go get him,” she said irritably. The man crawled under her skin way too fast. “Because you’ll never guess who just drove back into town. And I think he’ll want to see her.”
Colt found Dane surrounded by a group of students. They crouched in a clearing, Dane at the center of the group. Ignoring their surprised looks and Dane’s puzzled one, he quickly told Dane the details of Beth Ann’s phone call.
“She’s here?” Dane stared at Colt, disbelieving. He dropped the fire-making implements in his hands. “You’re sure?”
“No, I lied.” Colt turned around to leave.
Dane lurched forward over the group and grabbed Colt by the shoulders. He turned and looked his buddy in the eyes. “Miranda’s back?”
“That’s what Beth Ann said,” Colt drawled. “And that’s why my ass is out here and not playing Xbox.”
Dane ran a hand down his face and then looked over at Colt. He glanced at the waiting students, then back at Colt. “I’m gonna need your help.”
“All ears, buddy.” He couldn’t resist the grin that crossed his face at Dane’s hopeful expression.
He began to pace. Colt crossed his arms and leaned on a nearby tree, watching him.
“I need a way to say that I’m sorry.”
“Didn’t do anything wrong,” Colt pointed out.
“No, I know. I’m not apologizing for me. I’m apologizing for the situation.” He paused, put his hands on his h*ps and stared up at the sky, thoughtfully. “Needs to be a big gesture.”
“She won’t care if it’s big or not,” Colt felt he had to point out.
“Yeah, but I care,” Dane said. He paced for a moment, then snapped his fingers and dashed off into the woods.
Colt looked back at the confused students, then at his retreating friend. “Class dismissed. Brenna will be out here in a bit to lead you guys home,” he said, then dashed off after Dane with a grin. Whatever he had in mind, it ought to be interesting.
EIGHTEEN
Miranda walked into her mother’s store, and for the second time since returning to Bluebonnet that day, she got that weird feeling of déjà vu. It was like she’d left and returned to a town that was the same…and yet not. Her mother’s cluttered store, exactly the same for all twenty-seven years of Miranda’s life, was different. Not much, but enough that it bothered her as she looked around. Miranda stared at the overflowing shelves and tried to figure out what it was. After a moment, it hit her.
None of the heavy shelves were leaning anymore. They had all been repaired, the warped wood of each slat replaced, the contents dusted. She glanced outside and sure enough, the crooked sign she’d been so used to seeing had been repaired as well.
Her mother finished ringing up some customers, and when they left, Miranda stepped forward.
Tanya Hill gasped with delight at her daughter and flung her arms open, and they hugged for a long, long minute.
“How’s it going, Mom?” she asked with a smile. Her mother looked happy—healthy. Smiling. God, that was so good to see. She’d been so worried that her mother was going to have another one of her depressive episodes while Miranda was gone, and then she’d have to return to town.
A little sad part of her twinged at that. Surely it wasn’t disappointment? That was so wrong of her. She immediately shut down the thought. Her mother didn’t need her here, babysitting her in town, and she was finally free. Miranda should have been thrilled, and she’d hated that the first thing that came to mind was hurt. Didn’t her mother miss her?
“I’m good, I’m good,” her mother gushed. “I went to an estate sale and picked up all kinds of things for cheap, Miranda. You wouldn’t believe the deals I got!” As her mother went on about the sale, showing her new items in the store, Miranda couldn’t help but make a mental note of all the small changes.
“Did you hire a carpenter, Mama? I saw the sign was fixed.”
Her mother beamed. “No. That nice Dane Croft came by and fixed it for me.”
The world spun. She never thought she’d hear her mother say nice and Dane in the same sentence. “What?” she said weakly. “You hate him.”
“I did hate him,” her mother said proudly. “But that was before he got that horrible Chad Mickleson to take down those pictures of you.”
“What?”
“Yes,” her mother said solemnly. “He punched Chad right in the face in front of everyone, and then made him go home and take down those pictures while he watched.”
“But…I thought…” She felt weak, and collapsed onto an antique wooden stool nearby. Beth Ann had told her that the pictures were down, but she hadn’t realized that it was because Dane had threatened someone else and forced them to take it down. She thought he’d finally had a change of heart. “I thought Dane put those pictures up.”
“So did I,” her mother said with a sniff. “All this time it was that horrible Chad. You know I never liked him. Shifty eyes. Anyway, after Dane had the pictures taken down, he came over here and apologized to me. Said he’d been unfair when we’d talked on the phone all those years ago, and he wanted to make it up to me. And he offered to fix my sign.”
Her head wouldn’t stop spinning. Miranda pressed a hand to her forehead, unable to comprehend. “I’m sorry, what? What calls are you talking about?”
“Back when he left for the NHL,” her mother said patiently. “He kept calling for you and I wouldn’t let him talk to you. We got into a nasty argument. That was when I had my nervous breakdown.”
“Dane called for me back then?” she said weakly, surprised. She’d never known. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Why, darling, I didn’t want to upset you. He was an awful boy back then, but he’s turned into a nice man now.”
Oh God. Not only had Dane been innocent of the picture-taking, but he’d called and asked for her after he’d left for the NHL? He wasn’t the bastard she’d made him out to be? Miranda remembered his confusion that evening a month ago, as he’d stared up at her, handcuffed to her bed. Totally betrayed. He hadn’t understood why she’d been so upset.
Because he’d truly had no idea.
God, she was going to throw up. She clutched her stomach, horrified.
Dane…hadn’t been the one all those years? Her revenge? Her burning hatred? Directed at the wrong person?
And…oh God. Dane had really liked her?
Oh my God. And she’d ruined it. Acted like a crazy woman, screaming and crying at him. Handcuffed him to the bed and left him there. Taken nak*d pictures of him. Taken what they’d had and stomped it into the ground.
“Mom,” she said softly.
“Are you all right, honey?”
“I think I’m going to be sick.” She was going to pass out. She really was. She bent over and put her head between her knees, breathing hard. Horror swirled in her stomach, a hard knot that threatened to make her puke.