15
MIRANDA
Lachlan pulled into the driveway and turned to me with a questioning frown.
“You called out Britney’s name. Most of the time, it sounds like you’re having a nightmare.”
“That makes sense. Britney is giving me nightmares, which would explain her creeping into my subconscious.”
“Have I crept into your subconscious?” I asked.
“Oh yeah. Especially after I saw you in that ripped T-shirt, the night I stumbled into the apartment drunk.”
I smacked his big bicep. “Then I’ve snuck into your dick.”
He smiled. “Mm… And how.” He took me into his arms. “I’m crazy about you, Miranda. That’s all you need to know.”
I took a deep breath and nodded with a smile that matched the bright sunshine.
He jumped out of the car and, as always, ran over to my door to open it for me.
“That cute little gesture goes with the car,” I said, stepping out.
“How so?” His eyes sparkled in the sunlight.
“It’s from the same era,” I said, tapping the car’s hood.
“This car is from the late sixties. That was the burn-your-bra era. I can’t imagine too many young women approving,” he said as we sauntered along the cobbled path to the house.
“They would’ve appreciated it,” I said. “They just wouldn’t have admitted it.” I chuckled. “It’s nice having a strong man do the heavy lifting.”
He stopped walking. “And it’s nice to have a pretty little woman at home, cooking the evening roast.”
The slowly forming curl of his lips made the tirade that I was about to hit him with stall. “I’m a shit cook.”
“That’s why chefs were invented.” He tilted his head so adorably that I wanted to slap him for being so gorgeous.
His smile faded. “I’ve got your back, Miranda. Remember that.”
I wrapped my arms around him and kissed him. “And I’ve got yours too.”
We walked hand in hand through to the pool area.
“I’ve never seen this part of the house before. The garden is exquisite.” I bent down to smell a carnation in a terra-cotta pot.
Butterflies and insects buzzed about, and the fertile sprawling grounds boasted a celebration of color and textures.
“I love this place,” he said with a wistful half smile. “That’s why I sold my grandfather’s collection.”
Just as I was about to respond, Britney appeared.
Lachlan’s face darkened. “What are you doing here? It’s Saturday.”
“I had some work to do. And my apartment’s being painted, so I thought I might crash here for the weekend.”
He rubbed his jaw, something he often did when challenged. “That’s what we were planning.” He took my hand.
She cast me one of her blood-freezing stares. “It’s a big house. I’ll stay away. I’ll be out for the night, anyway.” She was about to move off when she added, “You do realize Tammy’s here.”