Chapter 34
MIRANDA
Miranda didn’t know what had come over her. She’d never done something that bold. Kissing Jim on the dance floor. It was just all so romantic—the farm, the dinner, the fading purple light, the music. The music. He had asked the band to play her favorite Harry Connick Jr. song.
It was like a script. How could she not kiss him? The moment was too perfect, too magical to pass up. He had returned the kiss. She could have sworn she’d even heard him whisper her name, but maybe that was wishful thinking.
This wasn’t like her. She wasn’t quite sure what had possessed her to kiss Jim right here under the shimmery pools of moonlight in front of everyone.
She didn’t want a spotlight shining on her or the entire town gossiping.
And yet, she’d done it, and she didn’t even regret it. She was seriously tempted to kiss him again, but the song ended, and dessert was being served. Jim wrapped a sturdy arm around her and guided her back to the table.
That’s when she caught Pete’s eye. He was seated on the opposite side of the table, directly across from her.
Lacy was practically in his lap. She had both arms wrapped around him and was massaging his shoulder seductively.
For the briefest flash, Miranda thought maybe she and her son had found unexpected love tonight, but Pete held her gaze, glaring at her with such an intensity that Miranda’s heart dropped into her stomach.
He must have seen the kiss.
Was he upset? Furious, even?
Why?
Miranda shook her head, trying to explain with her facial expressions. She probably looked like she was having a stroke. If only she knew sign language.
Pete wasn’t buying it.
She tried to backpedal, pointing to herself and then Jim.
Pete shook his head, continuing to scowl.
Miranda felt terrible, but she also felt slightly injured.
Why would Pete be angry with her? She was a full-grown adult after all.
She’d dedicated her life to making his childhood special.
She’d put him through college, ensured he had housing and a stake in the business. He was upset that she’d kissed someone.
It didn’t make sense.
This wasn’t like Pete.
Was it because he saw something in Jim that she was missing?
Did he not trust Jim?
Or was he mortified because she was making a fool of herself, and this time not in a good “meme” way?
Miranda laced her fingers together and blew out a slow breath, trying to maintain her composure. Having Pete angry with her was the worst feeling in the world.
She barely tasted the dessert trio—a pumpkin trifle with spiced cake and boozy whipping cream, an apple tart with caramel and rum sauce, and a ginger-glazed lemon Bundt.
“Are you enjoying dessert?” Jim asked, his arm still wrapped casually around the back of her chair.
“Mm-hmm,” Miranda said through a mouthful of the trifle, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from her son.
Pete looked wildly uncomfortable. She recognized his rigid body language and the way he kept squeezing his thumb and fingertips together.
When he was little, if they were somewhere he didn’t want to be, he would do the same thing—go stiff as a board like he was auditioning to be a member of the queen’s royal guard.
If she saw the tips of his fingers turn white, that was always her cue that whatever activity they were doing wasn’t a fit.
There weren’t many, but she’d signed him up for football camp one summer with a group of friends.
Fortunately, she’d stuck around for the first hour to watch tryouts and quickly realized that tackle sports weren’t for him.
The same was true when another friend had suggested he join the swim team.
Pete loved to swim, but he hated the racing blocks and the sound of the gun.
Her son had many talents, but disguising his emotions wasn’t one of them. Was it because of her, or something else?
“You haven’t finished your dessert,” Jim noted as servers began clearing plates and delivering gift baskets for the guests to take home. The baskets were filled with fresh produce from the farm, jams, sauces, and recipe cards for every dish from tonight’s menu.
“I’m so full.” Miranda rested her hand on her stomach.
That was true, but she also couldn’t eat knowing that Pete was upset with her.
She needed to fix this and figure out why he was furious about the kiss.
Or was that it at all? Was it something else?
She wasn’t sure, but she knew her son, and she could tell without a shred of doubt that something was wrong.
“In that case, is it movie time?” Jim thanked the server for the gift.
“Um, I don’t know. I’m feeling tired. It’s been a long day.” Miranda wanted nothing more than to head home and curl up on the couch with Jim, but Pete took priority. He always had. He always would.
Jim’s face fell. “Oh, okay. I mean, I understand. Rain check, maybe tomorrow night?”
“Maybe. We’ll see how the day goes. It sounds like Shelby has a full itinerary for us.” Miranda was noncommittal.
“Let me at least drive you home,” Jim offered.
Miranda stood and gathered her things. “That’s okay. I’ll grab a ride with Elise and Pete. Your hotel is on the other side of town. I don’t want to trouble you to go out of your way.”
“It’s no trouble. The other side of town is all of a few blocks, anyway,” Jim said, sounding confused. “Have I done something wrong?”
“No. Not at all. It’s me. I’ve just hit a wall.
” Miranda yawned and stretched. She was tired, but she would have gladly stayed awake to spend more time with him.
“I’ll see you in the morning. Thanks for a lovely night.
” She leaned in to give him a parting kiss on the cheek.
Why did he have to smell like ginger and cedar?
She gulped down a swell of regret and headed toward Pete and Elise.
Her shot at romance had ended as quickly as it had begun.