That Reckless Night. Kimberly Van Meter

never asked for your help. I don’t need an organizer. And I wish you’d stop foisting your ideas onto me.”

      “Fine, Mom. I was just trying to help.”

      Her mother, slightly mollified by the muttered apology, moved on to a different subject that was equally controversial in their family. “I don’t like Talen spending so much time with that woman.”

      And by that woman, her mother was referencing Talen’s paternal grandmother, Ocalena. “You should take your own advice and stop poking your nose into business that isn’t yours. Talen loves his grandmother and she’s a good woman. You need to stop ripping on her.”

      Her mother sniffed, “Well, we all have our opinions now, don’t we? Forgive me if I am uncomfortable with my only grandson spending so much time with a loony Indian. It can’t be healthy that she fills his head with all sorts of stories about that father of his.”

      Ah, the familiar argument about Talen’s father. One of her mother’s favorite topics. “There’s no need to pound it into my head how much you hated Johnny. I am well aware of your feelings. However, Johnny was Talen’s father for better or worse. Now drop it.”

      “When it’s a subject you don’t want to talk about, you’re happy to shut me down. When it’s a subject I don’t want to talk about, you needle me into the ground. Miranda, you’ve become a raging hypocrite as you become older.”

      And you’ve become an even bigger pain in my ass than you ever were. “Was there something you needed to talk to me about?”

      “Yes, actually there was. Aside from that horrid little woman intruding on our personal space, I needed to tell you that I heard gunshots on the back forty. I want you to check it out.”

      Poaching of Alaska’s resources was a major problem for the state, and the fact that her parents lived on a very large parcel of land that backed up to the Kenai Mountains made their property a popular trespassing point. “I’ll take a look. Did you call Trace?”

      “Of course. He’s unavailable.”

      Miranda tried not to take offense. The fact that she was her parent’s second choice never felt warm and fuzzy. But she supposed that was something she ought to be used to by now.

      “Have you met your new boss yet?” her mother asked, quickly changing the subject.

      “Yes.” Miranda didn’t add details. “Why?”

      “Because I know how you’d set your heart on getting that job. However, don’t do anything that will put you out of a job. Good jobs don’t just fall out of the sky.”

      Was her mother giving her advice? Surely, that was the sign of the apocalypse. “And what, pray tell, could I possibly do that would put me out of a job?” Aside from sleep with the new boss?

      “You’re like an old bear with something caught in its paw. You know how you get when things don’t go your way. I just don’t want you to do something stupid.”

      Something stupid? Such as pick a fight with her baby sister over a sweater that ended up getting her killed and destroying the family? Miranda would try to refrain from making such an epic mistake again. “Your concern is touching, Mom. But I think I’ve got it handled. You know, would it kill you to acknowledge that I’m not the same reckless kid I used to be?”

      “Miranda, I would go to my grave with a smile on my face if I thought you could change. I pray for my grandson that he won’t be scarred by your parenting skills.”

      “Excuse me? What are you talking about?”

      “I know why you let that Indian woman take care of my grandson...because you were out trashing the Sinclair name with your loose ways. Don’t think that you’re not the topic of every whispered conversation, because you are. I can only hope that you’ve run out of men to sleep with by now.”

      “Just because I like to have a good time doesn’t make me irresponsible in every other way,” she said, hurt by her mother’s censure, though why she cared, Miranda didn’t know. “If you can’t tell how I’ve changed, then you never paid much attention in the first place.”

      “See it how you will. Doesn’t change the facts. Good girls don’t take home the first man they lay eyes on and that’s a fact. What kind of example are you setting for Talen? No father, no man around to teach him how to do all the things a boy should know...”

      “Such as?” she demanded to know. “I can hunt, shoot, trap, track... What exactly is a man going to teach my boy that I can’t?”

      “I’m not going to argue the point. I’ve said my piece and I’ll leave it at that.”

      “Well, thanks for sharing,” Miranda said. God, help me now and end this conversation. “I have to go. Was there anything else that you needed?” Like the knife stuck in my back?

      Miranda could sense her mother’s irritation at her abrupt end of the conversation. Jennelle Sinclair loved having the last word. “I see there’s no sense in talking to you when you’re going to act like that. Don’t forget to look into those poachers above the property line.”

      The line went dead and Miranda shook her head. Unbelievable woman. Weren’t people supposed to mellow out with age? Apparently, her mother hadn’t received that memo. She’d like to say they were close at one time, but that would not be true. Jennelle had reserved all of her happiness, her pride and her ambition for her youngest daughter, Simone.

      Miranda had simply been the one in Jennelle’s way. At least that was the way it’d always felt. If it hadn’t been for her dad, teaching her how to track along with her brothers, her childhood would have been depressingly bleak.

      At Miranda’s lowest point following Simone’s death, she’d often believed her mother would have been happy if Miranda had been the one found dead on that mountain rather than her beloved Simone.

      And frankly, there were times that fear remained.

      CHAPTER FIVE

      HE HAD PLANNED to wait a few days but Jeremiah ended up spending some time looking over the poaching reports that Miranda had prepared. The reports were thorough and showed a commendable attention to detail. Even if Miranda hadn’t told him that catching poachers was a passion of hers, he would’ve been able to tell by the nature of her reports. A wry smile lifted his lips. Miranda was a passionate woman, apparently in all things. He wished their relationship hadn’t been contaminated by their one-night stand. He suspected they could have become strong allies, maybe even friends. Now their relationship would forever be tainted by what they’d shared intimately.

      And about that...what he wouldn’t give to get the memories out of his head. It wasn’t that the memories weren’t enjoyable; no, quite the opposite. The memory of last night made him yearn for more. And that was absolutely not happening. Maybe, with a fresh start, it was time to start dating again. After his son had died and his wife divorced him, the usual appetites for companionship simply died. Ending his celibacy with someone like Miranda had certainly left its mark. Literally. Jeremiah shifted as the pull of Miranda’s scratch marks on his back caused him to wince.

      He rubbed the grit from his eyes and finally shut down his computer. Everyone had long since gone home but he’d stayed behind to further acclimate himself to the new surroundings. He didn’t want to seem like that guy who simply punched the clock and didn’t care about the job. Back in Wyoming, he’d been accused of being a workaholic. He couldn’t deny that charge. That’d been one of the many hatchets his ex-wife had flung at him, screaming that he hadn’t been around for their son so he shouldn’t grieve for him. That’d been a low blow. Maybe that was why he’d been so ready for a fresh start. He couldn’t stomach the memories—both good and bad—that he was leaving behind.

      He closed his eyes as one particular memory eclipsed his ability to hold it back.

      “How dare you cry for him! It’s your