“Miranda is also hungry.” He swings his gaze to her with the focus of a child who has just found a powerful ally. “Aren’t you, Miranda?”
She glances at the stain on her dress. “I guess.”
“You guess?” I shoot her a look. “You didn’t eat anything. How do you feel about burgers? There’s a small joint a twenty-minute drive from here.”
“I would much rather go home,” she begins, but my son looks horrified at the idea.
“No! You have to come with us!”
“She is coming with us, Ethan,” I assure him before watching Miranda glance distractedly at the dress again. “That stain will come out. Just get the dress dry cleaned.”
She looks at me, a rueful expression on her face. “No it won’t. The material is very delicate. My friend loaned me this dress. It’s a very good copy of a designer one. She’s going to be devastated.” She sighs.
“What brand?”
“Meson Luxe.” Miranda touches the dress. I file the name away.
I pull off the main street and head toward the burger place near the arena. Small, tucked away, no patio facing the street. The kind of place I can get through a meal without anyone deciding they recognize me.
But when I ease the car up alongside it, the line is visible from twenty feet away. Packed out the door, people spilling onto the curb, a group of teenagers taking photos by the entrance. On a Friday night, it won’t shift for an hour.
I pull back into the road and try the Thai place two streets over. Same story. The patio chairs are full, and there’s a line at the hostess stand I can see through the glass. Too many people. Too much attention.
Ethan lets out a sound of pure grief.
“We could just go home,” he says. Then, after a beat, with the tone of a man arriving at a sensible solution, he adds, “And get the food delivered.”
I look at Miranda.
“That would work,” she says slowly. “But you could drop me home first…”
“Yeah, no.” I turn the car in the direction of my house and keep driving. A twenty-minute drive turns into an hour by the time we get there. Miranda is quiet when we pull into the driveway. She steps out of the car and looks up at the front of the house.
“This is where you live?” She’s gaping at the mansion and then turns around to see the lawn that goes to the tree line.
“I bought the land. It’s a few acres, but it’s all fenced. I like the open.”
She’s smiling, and I don’t think she knows it. “This is amazing. You’ve got so much space here. You could set up a vegetable garden somewhere.”
“Ideally I could.” I tuck my hands in my pockets, feeling ridiculously pleased at that awed look in her eyes.
She approves.
I don’t understand why that matters to my wolf or why it is rumbling so happily.
“Come on, Miranda!” Ethan is already at the door, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “I’ll show you my room. I did a painting.”
“What did you paint?” Miranda catches up to him, and his hand reaches out to grab hers. They walk in together, and I just watch, the image feeling far too comfortable within me.
“A bear.” He pushes the door open. “It’s brown. Come and see.”
She follows him inside.
“Give her a tour of the house first, Ethan,” I call out as I head to the kitchen to grab some menus. As I place the order, I hear him say, “That’s the back yard. There’s a pool there. But I can’t swim in it by myself.”
He gives her the tour at full speed. His room, the hallway, my room for some reason, and each and every guest room. Miranda follows along patiently as he opens every door and tells her to look. I hear her tell him to wash his hands at some point, and she wanders into the kitchen as I am setting the table. She takes in the space slowly, runs one hand along the countertop, and looks out the back window.
“You’ve got a nice place. It’s open and airy.”
