1105 Yakima Street - Debbie Macomber [75]
Will smiled when he saw her. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this,” he said.
Miranda deposited her coat and purse in the back room. “Well, don’t get used to it. I’ve got more to do than be at your beck and call.”
His eyebrows shot up. “My, my, aren’t we testy.”
“I have plans this evening,” she said, without enlightening him that those plans involved Shirley Knight. She figured they’d have left by the time he returned from his appointment. Anyway, it was none of his business, although she’d rather let him think she had a date. “I had to cancel my hair appointment.”
“You could always have said no, but I’m grateful you didn’t.”
“I’m not doing this for you,” she said curtly. “It’s for Charlotte and Ben.”
“For my mother and stepfather?” he asked, crossing his arms. “Why?”
“You said something about going back to a couple of the assisted-living places,” she reminded him.
“Perhaps I did. But—”
“Yes, you most certainly did.” Miranda wasn’t pleased. “What’s going on? Why else would you drag me here on my day off?”
“Maybe I wanted the pleasure of your company.” He grinned. His sexy smile never failed to lower her guard. Unable to meet his eyes without butterflies swarming in her stomach, Miranda looked away.
“You should’ve told me about your hair appointment. Go ahead and keep it. I’ll change my plans.”
“A little late now.” She snorted. A customer walked in the door and Will gestured for her to do the talking. Matt Langley, a local attorney, wanted a birthday gift for his wife, telling Miranda that Olivia Griffin had recommended her brother’s gallery. Miranda sold him a painting, the most expensive one they currently had.
“Damn, you’re good,” Will said admiringly after Matt left.
Miranda didn’t respond. She’d already started to make arrangements to have the painting delivered to the attorney’s home Saturday afternoon.
“Can’t you take a compliment?” Will asked with a slight edge.
“Yes, of course I can. It just depends on who’s giving it.”
Will grumbled under his breath.
“Did you say something?” she asked in a sharp voice.
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I did.”
“And what was it?” she challenged.
“I wondered why you find it so difficult to simply say thank you. That’s what most people do when they receive a compliment. But not you. Oh, no, that would be far too conciliatory. Why are you constantly fighting with me, Miranda? Am I really such a terrible employer?”
“No,” she admitted with some reluctance.
“You don’t sound like you mean it. Listen, it was a mistake to call you in on your day off. Go. I’ll be fine. I can rearrange my dentist appointment and my—”
“A dentist appointment! You called me in because you have a dentist appointment?” He knew which days she had off and obviously he’d scheduled this one knowing full well she’d have to come in.
He turned his back on her and walked into his office. “It’s at three—after Olivia and I see the people at Stanford Suites.”
So he did have an appointment at the assisted-living place. Why hadn’t he just said so? she thought irritably. What kind of game was he playing?
Miranda followed him into the other room. “I’m here now. You might as well go.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll reschedule with Olivia and the dentist.”
“I said I’d stay.”
He kept his hand on the phone. “Like I said, you could’ve told me no.”
“I could have,” she agreed.
“Then why didn’t you?”
“And why do you leave everything to the last possible minute, as if I don’t have any plans or responsibilities?”
“Guilty as charged. You’re right. I should’ve asked you