“I like oatmeal raisin cookies best. Not too fond of chocolate chip,” he said as he backed through the door of the bakery.
“How many raisins should there be in oatmeal raisin cookies, then?” Miranda asked over her shoulder as she bent into the cookie case and he headed for the door. “You’re the sheriff around here. Closest thing we have to a judge. You should be the one to decide,” she said as his hand reached the latch of the door.
“I am not the sheriff, but I am Switzerland, Miranda,” he replied. As he opened the door and hustled through it, he added, “Especially about cookies. Any kind.”
“That worked for your grandma, but it’s not going to work for you,” Miranda said with a wink at him as he closed the door.
He headed down the boardwalk, grateful he wasn’t actually a judge. The aroma of coffee seeped from the door of the Saloon—actually Sadie’s ice cream and coffee parlor—and he hesitated for a moment. Her pumpkin spice smelled delicious, and if it hadn’t been for the Thermos of hot chocolate, he’d have gone in and gotten one—and as he turned away, his eye caught a flash of light inside as the sun glinted off Sadie’s coffee machine.
He pushed his hat back up on his forehead and peered through the window, surveying the group of tourists and employees. His gaze rested on the customer at the front—a woman he’d seen a few times around the ranch—and for some reason she looked vaguely familiar. Her blonde hair flashed in the light and he could imagine what it would look like out in the sun—streaks of blonde and a darker blonde. She waited patiently, her brown pants tucked into red cowboy boots and a plaid flannel shirt peeking out from beneath her coat. He couldn’t quite place her, and wondered if she was a guest or where, in fact, he’d seen her before. She smiled a brilliant smile at Sadie, and he thought that if he hadn’t already met her, he’d sure like to.
His radio crackled and he unclipped it from his belt, checking his watch and realizing it was time to work. He wouldn’t have time to drop the package off at Heidi’s until later. Duty called.
Chapter 3
The gravel beneath Mira’s feet crunched in time to her hurried footsteps, her hands wrapped around the cup of Sadie’s coffee. Her frosty breath billowed around her as she rushed from the Old West town over to the housekeeping office and she took a quick glance at her watch. Just ten minutes to spare.
She stopped in her spot—just beyond the main house at River’s End Ranch and between some of the bungalows—as she had every morning since she’d arrived at this serene, heavenly ranch. It was her ritual, taking in the silence, the quiet, the calm as she looked out over the lake and the towering mountains beyond. It had taken everything she had to change her life, and every day she said a prayer of gratitude that when she’d gotten in her car and headed north, she’d landed here.
Her hands clutched the paper cup—she’d never lived anywhere but southern California before and as Thanksgiving approached and the weather changed, she still forgot to grab her gloves and the snow flurries always surprised her. Maybe if she kept them in her coat pocket she might not be caught off guard.
Her coffee had been too hot to even sip yet and Sadie’s special blends were always worth the wait, but she’d watched the colors change on the mountains a little too long and was cutting it a little close, so she lifted the cup to her lips.
“You all right, ma’am?” a voice said from behind her as the liquid burned her tongue and she hopped from one foot to the other, fighting back the urge to spit it out in the dirt to the side of the field.
She swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand and looked through tears of pain as she turned around. “Yes,” she sputtered, and she looked up into the deepest, darkest brown eyes she’d ever seen—the sheriff she’d noticed earlier. She’d been on the ranch for a few months, but she’d tried to keep her head down, stay to herself, so she hadn’t met many people.
“Hard to resist, isn’t it?” He held out a bottle of water toward her and she gratefully accepted, the coolness in her palm promising relief for her tongue.
He held her cup of coffee for her as she drank deeply, the pain subsiding. As she took a final gulp, she glanced quickly up at him. His eyes danced and it seemed he was holding back a full-fledged laugh. His dark brown hair peeked out from under his cowboy hat—she’d never seen a security guard in LA with a hat like that, but there were lots of things in Idaho she’d never seen before—and she smiled up at him, grateful for the save.
“Gets me almost every time,” she said as he handed her the cup of coffee. She eyed it suspiciously before she took it, vowing to wait longer next time for her first sip—a vow she broke almost every day.
“Tony,” he said. He hadn’t pulled back his hand after she’d taken her coffee and she looked at it and back up into his eyes while her brain spun. Sheriff, in uniform, had a gun, likely hired by Wade. Her brain landed on “don’t say much,” and she brushed her palm on her jeans before she reached out and shook his hand.
“Mira,” she said as she looked down at the gravel beneath her feet.
“Nice to meet you, Mira.” He tipped his cowboy hat in her direction and looked back toward the Old West town.
She took a quick glance at her watch and glanced toward the housekeeping office. “Same here. I don’t want to be late for work. Thanks for the rescue,” she said as she shoved her free hand in her pocket, wishing once more she’d brought gloves.
“Have a great day,” he said. Before she could get as far away from this man as fast as she possibly could, he tipped his hat one more time and smiled, big and wide and there was no way in the world she could have missed his twinkling eyes and dimples. Dimples.
Oh, goodness, not dimples.
“Thanks,” she said and spun on her heel, crossing the ground to her safe and solitary job as quickly as she could.
Dina hopped from one foot to the other as she entered the housekeeping office, and was nibbling at a fingernail.
“Thank goodness you’re back,” she said as she rushed over to Mira. “They just moved the meeting up and Wade’s waiting for us.”
“Oh,” Mira said as she set her coffee on the table. “I could have hurried if I’d known.”
“Don’t worry about it. Natasha asked Pastor Kevin to cover the desk so you’re actually off the hook. But the Murphy’s just left to go on a ride with Wyatt and asked me if I’d clean their room now so it would be ready when the boys got back later and I was hoping...”
“Sure,” Mira said quickly. The Murphys’ two small boys were—well, busy, she would call it—and the family was in a section of the bunkhouse that was Dina’s assignment.
“Thanks,” Dina said as she squeezed Mira’s hand. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise,” she said as she grabbed her coat and gloves and scooted out the door.
“How bad could it be?” Mira said quietly as she hung up her coat and reached for her cart, grabbing a couple of extra towels, just in case.
She headed down the hall and arrived at the room Dina had mentioned, knocking before she reached for her key. Met with silence, she opened the door and pushed the cart inside—and stopped in her tracks.
Every surface in the room—the table and the dresser, even the nightstands—had a plastic container on it with some leaves or grass or something in each. She closed her eyes, remembering her brother’s bedroom when they were growing up. He’d had similar things, even an ant farm, and she’d done her level best to stay far, far away from them.
She reached for her feather duster and gingerly took a swipe at the tops of each of them, shuddering and looking away if anything inside of the clear containers moved. She squeezed her eyes shut on the last one and looked away when she thought she saw a tail move—maybe a lizard.
Her heart pounded in her chest as she made the beds as quickly as she could. She looked up at the painting over the beds and concentrated on it—the summer scene focused on the river, the blues and greens of a quiet spot that meandered over some rocks. She remembered visiting there in the
summer, and her pulse quieted as she kept her eyes trained on the calm water.
She took in a deep breath and steeled her nerves. All that remained was for her to get past the jungle of containers to the bathroom, clean it and get out. She pulled on her gloves and reached into her cart for her cleaning supplies, leaning against it for a moment before she turned and headed into the bathroom.
She sighed deeply as she reached for the dirty towels and tossed them into the cart. The bathroom wasn’t too bad, actually, for having two small boys, and she tidied up the counter and set everything to rights. She placed fresh towels on the shelf and new shampoo and soap on the vanity. She emptied the trash of the empty small shampoo bottles.
She remembered Dina mentioning that she usually left some extra, as the boys went through quite a few. She looked around and nodded as the bathroom now was clean and tidy. All that was left was to swish out the bathtub and she’d be clear.
Pulling aside the shower curtain as she reached behind her for her scrub brush in the cart, she pushed it up against the back wall and knelt by the drain. A couple of inches of water remained in the tub and she frowned as she pulled out the plug. As she watched the water spin down the drain, she froze and pulled back her hand.
Her breath caught in her throat as she turned slowly toward the back of the tub, four sets of bulging eyes staring at her. She stood slowly and wrapped her arms around herself as she willed her unmoving feet to do something—anything—to get her out of there.
Just as she was about to make a run for it two of the big slimy frogs hopped from the bathtub onto the bathroom floor and her heart skipped a beat. The frogs were between her and the door, and she only had seconds to beat them to it.
“Oh, somebody help me,” she whispered as she inched toward the door. She wasn’t fast enough, and the other two frogs followed their friends, right out the bathroom door and into the room—right as she let out a scream.
Chapter 4
Tony stiffened as the scream reached him. He’d just finished his rounds at the Main House and was heading toward the stables to talk to Wyatt when he’d heard it.
He rushed toward the bunkhouse and let himself in from the side door. The safety of the ranch’s guests was always utmost on his mind, but even as the ranch was growing quickly, he’d never had anything downright terrible happen—a few medical emergencies that Dani or the nurse handled—but never anything huge.
As he approached the middle section of the bunkhouses, his heart sped up.
“Help,” he heard from an open door about midway down the hall, and he broke into a run at the sound, his mind racing with possible scenarios. He’d been trained for these occasions, and as he neared the door, he slowed, his hand on his gun.
“Security,” he said as he pushed the door open a little further, searching for the woman who had screamed for help.
“Oh, thank goodness, you’re here,” she said, her voice pinched and tight.
“Are you alone, ma’am?” he asked, remembering his training. He needed to know what he was getting into before he set foot in the room.
“Yes. No. Well, sort of,” the voice said.
Tony frowned and peered into the guest room. It must be the Murphys’ room, he surmised, as he scanned the containers of leaves and likely lizards that he’d been watching the young boys collect all week.
“Mrs. Murphy?” he asked as he stepped fully into the room and headed toward the open bathroom door.
“No. It’s Mira,” he heard as he pushed aside the housekeeping cart. A frog jumped out from under it and scurried under the bed, and he closed the door to the room while he assessed the situation.
“Are you all right?” he asked. He peeked into the bathroom took off his hat, tossing it on the bed.
Mira, the woman he’d met a little earlier, stood flush against the wall, her face drained of color and her eyes wide. He’d only seen her for a moment earlier, but the color of her eyes had given him pause even then. Now, they searched his, and she was clearly terrified.
“I—I think so. But I can’t move.”
“Are you hurt?” he asked as he moved toward her, looking her up and down for any signs of injury. She stood almost a head shorter than him, her blue-green eyes locked on his. Her black hair was pulled back in a pony-tail, but a few strands had fallen around her face, and she looked vulnerable—and scared.
“No, no, I just can’t move.”
“Hm,” he said as he reached for her hand. She looked at it for a moment, then up into his eyes. She reached for him tentatively after she pointed in the direction of the room. He waited, his heart calming as he realized he wouldn’t be needing back-up—or an ambulance.
“F-F-Frogs,” she finally said as she looked from him to the room and squeezed her eyes shut.
“Yeah, one jumped out from under the cart when I came in,” he replied as he smiled. “Fast little guy, too.”
She pulled her hand back and hugged herself, hopping from foot to foot.
He waited, and it took him a moment to realize that the frogs were what had her paralyzed. He almost laughed, but the look in her eyes stopped him. Just because he’d grown up catching frogs didn’t mean everybody had.
“Want me to catch them?” He leaned back and looked out into the room.
“Y-yes, please,” she said as she looked away.
He tugged her hand and pulled her from the wall, reaching for a towel and setting it on the side of the bathtub. He nudged her to sit and knelt down in front of her, pulling up her chin and meeting her eyes.
“Don’t be afraid, Mira. They won’t hurt you. They’re more afraid of you than you are of them.”
She gave him a weak smile. “That’s what my brother always said, even when he’d put them in my bed at night. Ever since, I don’t particularly care for jumping things.”
“Ah. Frog trauma,” he said as he smiled at her. He’d done the same thing to Dani and Kelsi once or twice along with one of the Weston boys. He hadn’t really thought it might scare them for life and it apparently hadn’t, since Kelsi hadn’t tried to poison him at the café, and he and Dani were pretty close.
“You—you can catch them?” she asked, her eyes pleading even as she seemed to calm down a little.
“Sure. I’m a pro. Been doing it all my life.” He took off his coat and threw it on the bed, searching the room for something to put the frogs into when he’d caught them. “Got anything I can put them in when they’ve been lassoed?”
“You’re going to catch them with a rope?” she asked, her eyes widening.
He laughed and shook his head. “No, it’s just an expression. I’ll need to just be faster than they are, I’m afraid, and use my bare hands.”
She recoiled and covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh, goodness,” she said and she pointed to the cart.
He reached inside, grabbing an empty box that usually had the shampoo products and held it up for her to see, smiling. “This’ll be perfect.”
She nodded slowly and wrapped her arms around her knees, rocking forward and backward while he hit the floor, lifting the bedspread up and searching underneath it.
“How many are there?” he asked after he’d rounded up three of them—pretty big ones, too.
“Four. I think four,” Mira said. “They were in the bathtub when I pulled back the curtain, and I—I just panicked.”
He sat up for a minute and smiled at her. “I can imagine that was a bit of a surprise. In the room, and all.”
“I was a bit on edge anyway because of all the lizards. I’ve had a few of them put in my bed, too, and I don’t like them much.”
Tony looked up at the dresser and the clear containers. “These Murphy boys do this every year. Wade told them it was okay as long as they let them all go back out by the lake before they left.”
“He did?” she asked.
“Sure. We grew up catching frogs and lizards around here, and he doesn’t mind if the guests have the same experience.” He glanced over his should
er at Mira, glad the color was returning to her face. “As long as nobody got hurt.”
“Hm,” she said as she stood and walked to the bathroom door—but stopped right at the threshold.
“So, where you from?” he asked as he crawled on the floor, looking for the final escapee. He thought it better to keep her talking—might calm her down a little bit now that most of the monsters were cooling their heels in a closed box. Just one more to go.
“I’m from Calif—I mean, New York,” she said as she hugged herself again and her wide eyes followed his every movement. “Sounds like you grew up here.”
“I did. My grandma was the original housekeeper here at the ranch way back when, and we’ve lived on the ranch ever since I can remember.”
“Eek,” she squeaked as he stood with the final offending amphibian clutched in his hands.
He glanced at her and asked her to lift the lid of the box so he could drop it in to join its friends.
“Won’t they jump out at me?”
“If they do, I’ll put them back in,” he said as calmly as he could, biting back a laugh.
She turned away and reached behind her to lift the lid of the box without looking. He chuckled as he dropped the final frog in, took the lid from her hand, placed it squarely on top of the box and patted it. He reached for a clean towel from the cart and wiped his hands, then clapped them together.
“See? All done. Strange, though. There shouldn’t even be frogs out at this time of year. They hibernate.”
His eyebrows rose as she turned and rushed toward him, throwing her arms around his neck and squeezing tightly, choking back a sob.
Mischievous Maid (River's End Ranch Book 15) Page 2