Page 83 of Not Another Yesterday
I consider him for a moment, then nod. I guess I owe him that much.
Part II
Friday, March 31st
Ronan
“Wanna just keep driving and get shit-faced by the creek?” Miranda asks.
The cabin of my truck is dark, but the moon does a good enough job illuminating the interior that I immediately notice the smirk on her face. I grin back at her; this aspect of my life, at least, has remained the same. Miranda still doesn’t give a single fuck about anything, including the fact that we’re both expected to be up and at ’em in only a few hours.
“Dude, I’ve been back on the ranch for exactly four hours and you’re already trying to get me in trouble.”
I arrived back in Montana this afternoon and the moment I stepped foot on my grandparents’ ranch the ache on my heart eased a little. It still throbs with the reality of my breakup from Cat, but still, being here has the same effect it had a year ago—all the heaviness is just a little less so.
I slow the truck in front of Miranda’s cabin. She’s already in the process of opening her passenger door.No patience.“And I will once again remind you that I’ve never cared about the rules,” she says, and hops out of the cabin the second I throw the truck in park. She waves at me to follow suit. “Come on, Rony, you gotta walk me inside to make sure some mountain lion isn’t going to eat me in the next five seconds.”
I chuckle. My grandma insisted I drive Miranda to her cabin after dinner this evening because they’ve had an unusual amount of mountain lion activity on the ranch. The cattle are always at risk of falling prey to Montana’s natural predators, like grizzlies, coyotes, andmountain lions—that’s just life out here—but my grandpa told us that they spotted a mountain lion roaming awfully close to the barn about fifty yards from the house only two nights ago.
“Maybe you need to get a little bigger so the mountain lions see you as a threat rather than their evening snack.”
She giggles, bouncing along ahead of me, her light brown braid swaying. “I could eat all the food in the world and I’d still be a damnsnack, Rony.”
Walked right into that one. I laugh while Miranda blows me an air-kiss over her shoulder, her eyebrows wiggling. “So, about getting shit-faced.” She steps through her unlocked front door and waits for me to enter behind her before locking it.
I raise my eyebrows. “Am I your hostage now?”
She raises her hand to pat my shoulder. “Pretty sure you know how to unlock a door, Rony. Stop ignoring my question.”
I shuck off my jacket. “Fine. What do you got?”
She scoffs at my question. “Whiskey and soda water.” She tosses her jacket onto her couch, then meanders the ten feet to her small kitchen.
I fall back onto her sofa. “Perfect.”
Miranda joins me on the couch a minute later, handing me a glass half-filled with deep amber liquid. I cock an eyebrow. “Did you forget the soda water, or are you trying to get me drunk?”
She shrugs and raises her glass to her lips, which does nothing to hide her grin. I shouldn’t be surprised—after all, she did suggest we get shit-faced tonight.
I take a small sip, the familiar burn of the whiskey heating my throat as I work it down.
“So, I never thought I’d say this, but your dad holding both your baby brothers after dinner tonight? Panty-drenching.” Miranda fans herself with her free hand.
The frown on my face is instantaneous.
“I mean, sheesh. Your dad’s like… aDaddy,” she says. “Made my ovaries—”
“Fuck, Randi!”
She snorts. “I’m serious. Your dad’s always been hot, but there’s something about seeing a mountain of a man holding a baby. It’s sexy. Big and strong, yet soft and gentle.” She pauses, deep in thought. “You know, your dad’s not all that much older than me…” Her eyebrows begin to dance mischievously.
I sink my teeth into my bottom lip with a deep growl. “Don’t fucking go there, Randi. That’s an image I’ll never be able to get out of my head.” My imagination has always been too vivid. Already my face contorts.
“Oh no? You don’t want the girl you used to fuck fucking your daddy? Or better yet, you and your dad both? At the same time? A Soult sandwich, so to speak. Wait, Stevie is getting here tomorrow, right? You know, Idohave three holes to stu—”
Holy shit. I throw my arms up. “Nope.” I get up off the sofa, ready to walk out on her.
She grabs at my sleeve, pulling me back down with a laugh.
