Page 8 of Hers to Call
“I’m fine, Becca, thank you,” Simon smiled at his self-appointed housekeeper.
She was very protective of him. But then, she had been there when his wife decided she didn’t like country or clan life and left him, taking the majority of their savings and cleaning out their checking account. Thank God he hadn’t had access to the clan’s funds at the time. She probably would have run off with that as well. He’d had to console himself with the thought that at least it would go to some grassroots organization. Miranda had never had use for money outside of that.
“I came to apologize, Simon.” Miranda lowered her voice and lounged in the chair in what he was sure she thought was an enticing pose.
“Not needed, you can leave.” Simon stood and gathered his plate.
He placed it gently in the sink, wrestling his temper. He leaned back against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. Now that the smell of roast beef wasn’t in front of him, Miranda’s scent floated to him, astringent and sharp. He wrinkled his nose,what was she wearing?Even as a hybrid, Miranda’s sense of smell should’ve prevented her from wearing whatever perfume she’d put on.
“Look, Simon, I know the way everything ended—”
“Don’t, Miranda.” Simon clenched his jaw. “Make sure you’re not here when I return.”
He left the kitchen, careful not to slam the door on his way out. The last thing he wanted to do was show Miranda that she could still get under his skin. Five years later and she still had the power to anger him. He stomped from the house, determined to put her out of his head.
“I just need a few minutes of your time, Simon,” Miranda called from behind him.
He suppressed a growl and turned back to face his ex-wife.
They had only been married for two years when his father became ill, two rocky years. The marriage hadn’t survived their move to rural Georgia, nor the responsibilities Simon had put on his shoulders. Caring for his father and taking over a failing horse farm and a clan in disarray from an ailing alpha had been time consuming. Time Miranda hadn’t wanted to spare.
“What could you possibly have to say to me after all this time?” Simon bit out.
“You know how the life is. I need a place to lay low.” She stared into his eyes defiantly, before the compulsion to lower them overrode her obstinacy.
Revolution was the life she spoke of, and he knew it well.
He’d left home at eighteen and joined the fight for shifter liberation. Protesting had not been for him, he’d not been interested in a peaceful resolution. His father had been content with the scrap of land the government had given them to live on. Joseph had led their clan as best he could with the stingy resources they’d been allotted. Simon had refused to stay on the sanctuary and eke out a living the way his family had for decades.
He felt he could help better on the front lines. It was where he’d met Miranda. Every time Simon had thought of coming back home to the bear Sanctuary, anger had gripped him, no doubt fed by his militant wife. She’d fought for shifter freedom as strongly as he had.
“You come here, to the people you gave your ass to kiss and ask for a place to hide?” Hands on his hips, he could only stare at the audacity of Miranda.
When he’d gotten the call about his ailing father, Simon had given no thought to packing up the life he and Miranda had made in Atlanta and moving back to Bear Ridge. Miranda, on the other hand, had kicked and screamed the whole way. She didn’t want to cater to the needs of a chaotic clan and she certainly didn’t want the responsibilities that came with being an alpha female. Once Miranda realized the clan had no interest in her revolution, she’d turned her attention elsewhere.
“I’m not built for the life you wanted.” She waved her arms at the expanse of his farm.
“You mean you didn’t want to work for it. Now you come here for what…refuge?” Simon closed the distance between them, anger burning through him.
She growled, the light of her bear brightening her eyes. “I don’t know why I ever try to talk to you. You never listen.”
Simon sucked in a sharp breath, aggravated and frustrated at Miranda’s usual refrain. “What do you expect from me? You sent divorce papers the same day I buried my father.” He hissed.
She gasped and stepped back, her face blanching. “That’s not…it was never my intention to hurt you like that.”
He raked a hand through his hair disgusted that he’d fallen into old habits with her. Arguing with his ex-wife was not how he wanted to spend his morning.
“I can’t have you here, Miranda. I have a mate now.”
“I’m not asking to live here, for Christ’s sake, I just need to lay low for a while.” She snapped. “She would never even notice me on a ranch this size.”
Simon shrugged, his stance unmoved. Besides the fact that he didn’t want Miranda on his land, he wouldn’t risk even a hint of disrespect towards Calita.
“You hate me this much?” She tilted her head and studied him, likely looking for weaknesses.
She would find none. He hadn’t loved her enough to hate her. It dawned on him that there had been nothing between him and Miranda but lust and the fervor of a joined cause. Simon had married her against both his father’s and his bear’s wishes, scoffing at even the hint of destiny and soul mates. Looking back, he couldn’t believe how wrong he’d been.
“I don’t hate you.” Simon’s voice was firm.
