1105 Yakima Street (Cedar Cove #11)

1105 Yakima Street (Cedar Cove #11) Page 25

“Oh, all right,” Miranda said, capitulating far too easily. She could phone the salon and reschedule for later in the week.

“That’s great.” He leaped at her offer without any hesitation. “Can you be here around two?”

“I’ll be there.”

“Thanks, Miranda. I really appreciate it.”

“Bye.” She called the salon to cancel her appointment, then shut her cell and put it back inside her oversize purse. So much for shopping, hair and fun. She quickly revised her plans.

First things first. She ran errands, going to Safeway for the candy she needed. In addition, she bought an extra bag of miniature chocolate bars and a plastic pumpkin for the gallery. Then she picked up her dry cleaning. Shirley met her for an early lunch, and when they’d finished, she dropped off some books at the library. From there Miranda got to the art gallery with fifteen minutes to spare.

Will was with a customer when she arrived. He raised his hand briefly but otherwise didn’t acknowledge her. Miranda hung her coat in the back room and stashed her purse in a safe place. Then she opened the candy, dumped the small chocolate bars in the pumpkin and set it on the counter near the cash register for customers to help themselves.

Will was at the door saying goodbye to his customer when she returned.

“What’s that?” he asked, nodding toward the plastic pumpkin.

“What does it look like?”

“You brought candy in here?”

“Yes.” The answer should be obvious.

“You don’t need it and neither do I. Whenever possible I avoid sweets.”

“Then don’t indulge. I thought you were the one with willpower,” she said sarcastically. When he started to respond, she said, “It isn’t for you, anyway.” Was he so self-absorbed that he assumed she’d purchased the bag for him?

“Then who’s it for?”

“Customers,” she said irritably. “Is that a problem?” She’d done him a favor and Will acted as if she’d brought poison into his precious gallery.

“We don’t get that many children—”

“Isn’t it time you met your sister?” she asked, interrupting him.

Will gave her a startled look. “Right. I shouldn’t be longer than a couple of hours. Three at the most.”

“If you aren’t back by five, I’ll close for the night and head home.”

“I’ll be back by then.”

“So he says,” Miranda muttered under her breath. If Will heard her, he pretended he didn’t.

The rest of the afternoon was busy, much busier than she would’ve expected. She sold another Beverly Chandler painting, a sculpture and a quilt. Will should be pleased, but knowing him, he’d invent reasons to find fault. She just hoped he realized that if she hadn’t given up most of her afternoon, they wouldn’t have made three rather large sales. If he’d placed a closed sign on the door, he might never have known what he’d missed. After all, there was no guarantee those customers would’ve come back.

A little after five, as she was putting the cash from the till into the bank deposit bag, Will walked into the gallery, looking completely worn out.

“We had a great afternoon,” she said, eager to share her news.

He nodded absently. “Olivia and I are shocked. You wouldn’t believe the monthly fees these adult residences charge.”

“I sold the quilt,” Miranda bragged. It’d been in the gallery for three months and she’d almost lost hope that it would sell.

Will still wasn’t listening. “Of course, when you take into account that the fees include meals and utilities, I don’t suppose it’s so bad.”

“Another Beverly Chandler painting, too.” If nothing else, this should get his attention.

“They have a lot of programs for the elderly,” he continued. “They do everything they can to keep the residents physically fit. The social activities sound great. Both Olivia and I think this mental stimulation is exactly what Mom needs. Ben, too.” He shook his head. “Still, we’ll have to talk to Ben’s son—and I don’t mean David—”

“Have you heard a single word I said?” Miranda asked.

Will glanced up. “What?”

“Never mind.” She tossed the deposit bag on the counter and went into the back room for her coat and purse.

He followed her. “Why are you in such a state?”

“Because of you.”

“That figures. Apparently everything I do annoys you.”

“You have no idea how true that is. And you seem to be just as annoyed by me. I’m not even sure why you keep me on.”

“I’m wondering that myself,” he murmured. “Furthermore I doubt you heard a single word I said.”

“Yes, of course I did.” She marched into the outer room and grabbed the plastic pumpkin.

“Where are you going with that?”

“Home. You don’t appreciate it, so I’m taking it with me.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t appreciate it. Anyway, I didn’t have a chance to pick up any treats, so I was going to use it tonight in case any of the neighborhood kids stop by.”

“That’s unlikely.”

“Okay, fine. Whatever.” He glared at her.

Miranda glared back.

“Why are you like this?” he demanded.

“Like what?”

“So…so moody. You jump all over me every chance you get. I don’t understand what your problem is.”

Miranda took offense at that. “I am the most even-tempered woman you’re likely to meet. Ask anyone.”

“You fly off the handle over nothing.”

“That is not true.”

He gestured toward her. “Just listen to how defensive you are. Can’t we have a civil conversation without you making all kinds of false assumptions?”

“I…I—” Perhaps she was being defensive. Okay, true, she was, but she had no choice. It was either that or own up to how attractive she found him… .

“What are you thinking?” he asked, frowning slightly. He didn’t seem to know how he should react when she didn’t have an immediate comeback.

“I…I—” she started again, and then, without considering her actions, she stepped forward and kissed him.

For an instant they were both too shocked to do anything but stare at each other. Then Will reached out and caught her by the shoulders as if to shove her away. Instead, he brought her close, kissing her deeply, passionately.

They both seemed to realize what was happening at the same time. Breaking apart, they retreated, gazing at each other in shock.

Miranda could feel her face heating up with acute embarrassment. In all her life, she’d never been the one to take the initiative and kiss a man. Well, not the first time they kissed, at any rate. This was completely out of character.

“What was that about?” Will asked, frowning.

Miranda could play this one of two ways, she decided. She could be nonchalant about the whole thing and dismiss it as unimportant. Irrelevant. Or she could simply say he’d made her so angry that it was either kiss him or slap him across the face. And that being the case, she’d opted for the lesser of two evils.

Before she could choose which approach to take, Will raised one hand to his face and narrowed his eyes. “You just kissed me.”

“No one’s ever kissed you before?” she asked flippantly.

“Not like that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Not answering, he turned away and then abruptly turned back. “Do you do that often?”

“Do what?” she said, playing stupid. Because that was how she felt. Stupid.

“Walk up to a man and kiss him,” he said. His voice seemed to echo around the gallery. Thankfully they were closed; otherwise, some unsuspecting customer might breeze in. But maybe that wouldn’t be so bad because she’d be able to escape.

“No, I don’t usually go around kissing men,” she admitted. “It seems to me you enjoyed it, though.”

“I most certainly did not.”

“Oh, please!” She laughed outright.

“What’s so funny?”

“You. Come on, Will. I don’t understand why you’re so thrown by a little kiss.”

“Why’d you do it?”

There wasn’t going to be an easy way to extricate herself from this awkward situation. She could confess that she was strongly attracted to him. No, that would be totally the wrong move. It would give him the upper hand, always dangerous with a man like Will. Acting defensive and ill-tempered protected her, although she’d rather burn at the stake than admit it.

“Explain,” he insisted.

“Ah…” She’d really done it this time. “It was a mistake.”

“Yes, it was a mistake. A big one.”

“Whatever.”

“As your employer, I’m finding this all rather…amusing.”

“You would find it amusing.” Leave it to Will to use this to embarrass her even further—although a moment ago, his reaction had been quite different.

“I prefer to kiss rather than be kissed.”

“Oh, you have rules for such things,” she murmured, not pointing out that he’d done his share of the kissing. This entire conversation was ridiculous. She yanked her raincoat from its hook and thrust her arms into the sleeves.

“Everyone has rules about kissing,” he said.

“Like I told you, it was a mistake. An accident…”

“An accident,” he repeated. “You’re joking. That kiss was probably the most deliberate action you’ve taken since the moment I hired you.”

“I moved the first Chandler painting,” she was quick to remind him, “the one that sold a month ago.”

He ignored that. “When I kiss a woman, I prefer she not be a big-boned, opinionated windbag.”

So now he was going to insult her. Miranda didn’t need to hang around for that. Grabbing her purse, she stomped out of the gallery.

“Where are you going?” he asked, following her.

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t. I’m just…curious.”

She was at the door, which stubbornly refused to open. She twisted the handle several times, but couldn’t budge it. So much for making a grand exit.

Will reached over and flipped the lock so that when she tried again she stumbled backward and almost fell into his arms. He clutched at her shoulders to steady her. It didn’t take much effort to shake herself free.

As soon as the door opened, she hurried around to the rear of the building where she’d parked. Again, Will followed her.

“What are you doing?” she asked sharply.

He didn’t answer, and it occurred to her that he was as bemused as she’d been. He didn’t know what he was doing or why. That was comforting—at least a little.

Before she could open the car door, Will planted his hand on the side window and turned, leaning against the vehicle so she couldn’t leave.