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‘I didn’t beat anyone up.’ His voice was weary. ‘He said some things I didn’t like. Things he shouldn’t have said. He’s a bully, Miranda. A sleazy, nasty bully.’
‘You hit him.’
Jake ran a hand through his hair. ‘He attacked me, Miranda,’ he said quietly. ‘Accused me of taking away his business.’
Self-defence? She relaxed slightly and the pounding of her heart slowed. ‘He hit you? I’m sorry.’ Her voice was little more than a whisper. ‘It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have let you go in there.’
‘Better me than you. Next time choose your landlord with more care.’ Without waiting for a response from her, he opened the car door and walked towards the house.
She caught up with him in the kitchen. Looking at his stiff, icy profile, Miranda felt frustration and something else that she couldn’t quite identify. A tiny part of her felt warm and cosseted. No man had ever defended her before. Maybe it shouldn’t have felt good but it did.
He was only trying to help and she’d been rude and churlish. He’d been injured, standing up for her, and all she’d done had been to yell at him.
Suddenly ashamed of herself, she wrapped her arms around her waist and took a deep breath. ‘I’m sorry,’ she began, and he muttered something under his breath, before turning to her with a smile.
‘No, I’m the one who should be sorry. I’m used to women who like to be pampered. You’re the most independent person I’ve ever met. I thought I was doing you a favour.’
‘You were doing me a favour. I hate that man—he makes my flesh crawl. It’s just that I don’t want you to feel sorry for me.’
‘I don’t.’ His voice was soft. ‘But you’re a friend and it’s natural to want to help a friend, isn’t it?’
Miranda bit her lip. ‘I don’t know. I suppose if I’m honest, I’ve never really had a close friend before.’
‘Are you joking?’ He reached into the fridge for a beer. ‘Women always have close friends.’
‘Do they?’ Miranda pushed away thoughts of her childhood and sat down at the kitchen table. ‘I suppose I’ve always found it hard to be close to people.’
He studied her face for a moment and then smiled. ‘Any chance of some first aid for my knuckles?’
She rummaged in his freezer for an icepack and fussed over his hands. ‘Does it hurt badly?’
‘If I say yes, will you kiss it better?’
She shot him a warning look. ‘Be careful or I might damage your other hand.’
As the days passed Miranda felt nothing but pleased that she’d agreed to move in with Jake. In the warmth and comfort of his house, she slept better. In fact, there were several occasions when Jake had to wake her in the mornings.
She knew that, at some point, she was going to have to find somewhere to live once the baby was born, but she was so busy at work that all she wanted to do when she arrived home was collapse in a heap and sleep until her next shift.
And Jake made it easy for her to do that.
He was easy to live with, she discovered, and after that first night he’d kept the conversation friendly but impersonal.
Which was a good thing, she told herself firmly as she slid out of bed on a Saturday morning a month or so after she’d first moved in. She didn’t want anything else.
Anticipating a slow, lazy day, she dressed in comfortable clothes and went downstairs to the kitchen to find Jake frying bacon.
‘It’s a lovely day.’ He glanced towards her. ‘Fancy a walk?’
After her first, disastrous foray into the mountains, he’d taken her to the mountain rescue base and shown her all the equipment they used in rescues and talked to her about safety. She realised again how fortunate she was that he’d been the one to find her on Christmas Day. Since then he’d found walking gear that fitted her and had insisted on taking her on some gentle hikes.
She slid a hand over her rounded abdomen. ‘You fancy delivering a baby in the wild, Mr Blackwell?’
‘You know me.’ He gave her a wicked grin as he slid crispy bacon onto a plate. ‘I love a challenge.’
She stared at the bacon. ‘Is that for me? Because I can cook my own breakfast and you don’t have to—’
‘I don’t have to wait on you.’ His tone was patient. ‘I know that, Miranda, and I’m not waiting on you. I was making breakfast for myself so adding a few extra rashers of bacon seemed like common sense.’
