You Were Meant For Me

by Kait Nolan

  “Hey fella.”

  Ryan tripped from sleep to wakefulness in an instant, his hand reaching for the combat knife he wasn’t actually wearing at the moment.

  The mechanic stood a good three paces away, hands lifted in the universal sign for no threat. “Army?”

  “Yes, sir.” Ryan forced his muscles to relax. Damn, he must’ve been more exhausted than he thought if he hadn’t heard the other man enter the room.

  “Navy,” the mechanic said. “Thirty years ago, now. You have the look aboutcha. Ready to go pick up that truck?”

  The two of them loaded into the tow truck and Ryan directed the mechanic—who was, in fact, Lou himself—to where he’d left the Chevy on the little two-lane highway. Quick and efficient, Lou had the truck hooked up and towed back to the garage in less than an hour. Then he went the extra mile and dropped Ryan off at Percy’s on his way home. Apparently Elf Girl wasn’t the only person in town willing to go out of their way to help a stranger.

  Shouldering his bag, Ryan strode up the walk toward the house. The porch was dark, but a light shone from somewhere in the back. He pressed the bell, listening to the tones of it ring and fade before a faint voice hollered, “I’m coming. I’m coming!”

  Ryan waited, wondering exactly what to say since he hadn’t called ahead. Before he could decide, a loud crash sounded from inside.

  “Percy?” Ryan shouted. He banged on the door, tested the knob. Locked. He checked the immediate vicinity for a key. Finding none and given the reports his mom had passed along about the state of Percy’s health, he dropped his bag, took a step back, and kicked in the front door.

  The lock gave way with a snap, the door flying back to hit the interior wall. Ryan charged through with all the speed and efficiency of his Delta Force training, clearing rooms until he found the old man on his knees, one hand braced on the arm of a sofa as he struggled to rise. A lamp lay on the floor, the cattywampus shade casting crazy shadows on the wall.

  A quick flash of fear crossed the old man’s face before he firmed his expression. “Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my house?”

  Ryan picked up the lamp and righted it before offering a hand. “Good to see you too, Uncle Percy.”

  Get yours today!

  Sneak Peek Can’t Take My Eyes Off You

  Book #3 Wishing For A Hero

  Exhausted by the futility of her efforts against the city’s endemic problems and the revolving door of violence in her Chicago emergency room, Dr. Miranda Campbell came home to Wishful, where she knew she could make a real difference in people's lives. Between her clinic, a rotation in the hospital's ER, volunteer work at the new women's shelter, and time spent with family and friends, her life is full. But it's not too full to notice a sexy lawman when she sees one.

  * * *

  Former US Marshal Ethan Greer is still settling into the job as Wishful's new Chief of Police, but he's starting to realize it may be years before he'll ever be considered one of the locals. Fair enough. He's the first to admit that making the shift to small town policing is a big adjustment. After losing his marriage and almost his life in line of duty, the slow pace of Wishful is a change he's happy to make.

  * * *

  While Miranda's and Ethan interest in each other is mutual, he's not sure about taking on a serious relationship. That's just fine with her. But when Miranda is targeted in an escalating chain of threatening events, Ethan's Marshal instincts go on overdrive. Miranda's rose-colored view of Wishful is putting her in danger. She's become more than a casual fling or a job responsibility. With Ethan's training screaming at him to put her in protective custody, can he find out who's behind the threats before he pushes Miranda away?

  Chapter One

  “Hey, hey married lady.” Miranda Campbell grinned as her best friend slid into the opposite side of the booth.

  “Someday that will probably get old, but it is not this day,” Norah declared. “Sorry I’m late. Meeting ran over.”

  Miranda noted her faintly mussed hair and rosy cheeks and smirked. “And did your meeting come to a satisfactory conclusion? Judging from your glow, I’m gonna guess it did.”

  Norah cast a frantic look around, her just-had-a-quickie-with-my-new-hubby glow being replaced by a ferocious blush. “Keep your voice down!” she hissed.

  “Hey, at least one of us is being kept satisfied. I just try not to think too hard about the fact that it’s my cousin putting that look on your face. Did you and Cam at least remember to lock the door this time?”

  “That was one time.”

  Miranda just arched a brow.

  “Okay, maybe two.” Norah dropped her voice. “He has a thing about desks.”

  Lifting a hand Miranda shook her head. “Stop right there. I don’t need to know this.” At Norah’s chagrinned expression, she added, “But it’s awesome to still see you blissfully happy. You’re practically radioactive with contentment.”

  Norah unwound her scarf and shed the red wool coat, running her hands through her dark brown hair to neaten it. “I’m going to credit the happy for making me susceptible to crazy proposals.”

  “Is that a euphemism for something?”

  Norah laughed. “No. But somehow I find myself chairing the committee organizing the Valentine’s Dance this year. Because I have so much spare time, right?”

  And then it all came suddenly clear. Bracing both hands on the table, Miranda stared her down. “You invited me to lunch to talk me onto that committee didn’t you?”

  “It’ll be fun!”

  Unamused, Miranda just continued to stare.

  “What’s that face, Dr. Campbell?” Mama Pearl, the much-beloved heart and soul of Dinner Belles Diner, slid their customary sweet teas onto the table.

  Miranda gestured across the table. “Norah here has been whacked upside the head with the love stick and thinks she’s gonna talk me onto the Valentine’s Dance committee.”

  “If I had to judge by the smile she was wearin’ when she walked in here, I’d say there was definitely a love stick involved.”

  Norah’s mouth fell open. “Mama Pearl, hush your mouth!”

  Miranda snickered and a grin creased the older woman’s dark face.

  “Usual?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” they chorused.

  As soon as she shuffled off, Norah resumed her campaign. “Anyway, it’ll be the social event of the season.”

  That wasn’t saying much. With a population just edging toward six thousand people, Wishful wasn’t exactly a hopping, happening place. Social gatherings down here tended more toward church potlucks, football parties, and chilling out at The Mudcat Tavern. Miranda was totally okay with that. Transforming the community center into something out of a John Hughes movie prom set for a town-wide dance was not her idea of a good time. Or maybe that was just a little sour grapes because she wouldn’t have anyone to go with.

  “I already made my contribution to the Wishful social calendar for the year with my annual New Year’s Eve bash. Literally last week.”

  “And that bash was awesome,” Norah conceded. “But come on. It’ll be like the old days back in college, when we were planning sorority mixers.”

  “I do not have the enticement of half a dozen cute Sigma Chis doing set up for this.”

  “So if I can load the setup crew with hot single men for you to ogle, you’ll do it?”

  Miranda knew she’d make it happen. She also knew Norah would just keep pushing until she got what she wanted. “It is my busiest season at the clinic. Flu is horrific this year, and I’m trying to control an outbreak of strep. I cannot commit to committee meetings. But I’m available for brainstorming, and I promise to clear the decks as much as I can for actual setup. Final offer.”

  “Deal.”

  “Hey, y’all.”

  Miranda looked up to find her administrative assistant hovering at the edge of the table. She braced herself. “Please tell me Shelby didn’t send you to fetch me for an emergency at the
clinic.” She desperately needed this hour to check out with her best gal pal and breathe something that wasn’t disinfectant fumes and illness.

  Delaney laughed. “Nope. Here to pick up takeout for me and Keisha. Did I hear y’all talking about the Valentine’s Dance?”

  “Oh girl, you have made a grave error,” Miranda told her. “Run, run now, before you get sucked in.”

  Norah beamed a bright smile Delaney’s way. “You sure did. Are you interested in joining the committee?

  “Um, I don’t know. What would it entail?”

  Miranda just shook her head as Norah cheerfully and skillfully herded Delaney right where she wanted her. Which was what Norah Burke Crawford did. Nobody ever saw it coming. At her high-powered marketing firm in Chicago, that talent had earned her the moniker The Closer. It was a skill Miranda both abhorred and admired. Since Norah used it to the benefit of the town these days, Miranda was hardly in a position to complain. At least until Norah turned those skills on her. Thankfully, long familiarity gave her some measure of immunity.

  Amused, she watched Norah go in for the kill.

  “It’s a great way to give back to the community.”

  Delaney grinned. “Sounds great. Sign me up.”

  “Wonderful! We’ll see you on Tuesday for our first meeting.”

  “Okay then. Bye, Miranda.”

  “See you back at the clinic.”

  She and Norah both watched as the younger woman headed for the counter to pick up her order.

  “Never even saw what hit her.”

  “How’s she working out for you?” Norah asked. “You’ve had her—what?—three months now?”

  “Really well. We had a few hiccups that first week, but she’s a quick learner and a hard worker. Shelby’s ecstatic to have help running the office. Especially somebody to take over the onerous management of the computer system. You know how Shelby hates that thing.”

  “—just can’t believe she has the nerve to walk around with her head held high after what she did.”

  Miranda didn’t even have to scan the busy diner for the speaker. Clarice Hopper Morris was a bitch on wheels and had been since elementary school. If there was something cruel to be said about someone, she or her sister had no compunction in saying it. At the counter, Delaney’s shoulders tensed and rounded, as if she could make herself a smaller target. Miranda’s temper bubbled and snapped on the girl’s behalf as Clarice and her companion just kept right on talking.

  “I’m surprised they didn’t run her out of town on a rail after it happened.”

  “Didn’t she get arrested or somethin’?”

  “Well, you know she did. It was all over the paper. Don’t know what she’s doing back in Wishful.”

  Miranda’s fists clenched as Delaney paid for her lunch, took the takeout bag, and all but ran out of the diner.

  Mama Pearl shook her head as she slid two plates onto the table and looked after Delaney. She shot a fulminating look at the gossipers and announced in a voice they couldn’t fail to hear, “Anybody can change.”

  Clarice didn’t pay any attention to Mama Pearl. “I can’t imagine what she’s doing for work. I mean, who on earth would hire her after everything she did?”

  Temper bubbling, Miranda shoved out of the booth and marched across the diner. “That would be me, and I’ll thank you to stop spreading malicious gossip about my employee.”

  Clarice and her companion, Karen Alberson, looked up in shock.

  “Why Miranda Campbell. I didn’t realize your charity work ran to your employees, too. How…magnanimous of you.”

  Steam was most certainly coming out of her ears. Miranda itched to plow her bunched fist into Clarice’s face. “I suppose you would think it magnanimous to recognize that sometimes people make mistakes and deserve a second chance. The fact of the matter is, she’s a smart girl and a hard worker, and she deserves better than to be maligned by the likes of you.”

  “It’s a free country. There’s no law against talking.”

  “Sadly, no, there’s no law against being hateful. If there were, you and your sister would both have rap sheets taller than either of you.” Disgusted, Miranda shook her head. “Are your lives so bad, you feel the need to talk down about everybody around? Tearing down good people and perpetuating rumors and half-truths about the mistakes they may have made to make yourselves feel better?”

  “I hardly think our topics of conversation are any of your business.”

  “I think you know you’re making it everyone’s business by talking loud enough for the whole diner to hear you, just to get attention. Grow up, Clarice. And maybe you could find a scrap of humanity while you’re at it.” Miranda swung around to go back to the booth for the lunch she no longer wanted and plowed straight into a brick wall.

  The wall gripped her elbows and drawled, “Steady there.”

  Startled, she looked up…and up, into the clearest gray eyes she’d ever seen.

  Chief of Police Ethan Greer had dealt with a lot of angry people in his lifetime. It wasn’t generally an attractive state, often involving red faces and flying spittle—or fists. But Miranda Campbell, in full temper, facing off with a couple of women he’d already learned were bitchy gossips even in his short three months on the job, was one of the most unaccountably sexy things he’d ever beheld. Ethan had no idea who she was defending, but those changeable hazel eyes still flashed with a righteous indignation as she looked up at him. Stunning.

  As they stood there, the indignation faded and something else pulsed between them. It had been so damned long, Ethan barely recognized it for what it was. Mutual attraction. And wasn’t that interesting?

  “Excuse me, Chief.”

  “Doc.”

  Her eyes widened slightly at that. Yeah, he knew who she was, even if they hadn’t actually spoken before. At 5’10”, with a fall of thick, honey blonde hair a man could lose his hands in, she was a hard woman not to notice.

  Ethan released her, edging back so she could get by him. He shifted his attention to the gossips, leveling them with the flat cop stare that tended to make hardened criminals break. The sidekick’s cheeks reddened, and she looked down at the table. The ash blonde with the pinched face, who’d been doing most of the talking, just lifted a brow. Supercilious bitch. He knew the type. For the sake of whoever she’d been maligning, he wished he did have something he could arrest her for. She needed to be knocked down a few pegs.

  “Hey Chief. Are you meeting somebody or sitting at the counter today?”

  He found a smile for the fresh-faced waitress, who’d arrived in Wishful not long after he had. “Mornin’, Hannah. I’m meetin’ Clay.”

  “There’s a booth right over here.” She led him to the opposite side of the diner from Miranda. “I’ll just get your tea.”

  As he sat, studying the menu, conversation started up again. That whole confrontation was gonna be all over town by dinner. Probably faster. He’d learned that viral social media had nothing on the gossip network in Wishful. Especially when it started here, at Mama Pearl’s place. If you wanted to know anything, Dinner Belles was the first place you started.

  Clay wandered in and worked his way toward the table, pausing in time-honored, small-town tradition to greet everyone he knew. Given Wishful was his hometown, that was most of them. The delay was fine with Ethan. It gave him a chance to surreptitiously watch the good doctor as she conversed with City Planner Norah Crawford.

  Clay slid into the other side of the booth. “See somethin’ you like?”

  Or maybe not so surreptitiously. “Hello to you, too.”

  Hannah came back with his tea. “Hey Clay.”

  “Miss Hannah Wheeler. And how are you this fine day?”

  Ethan wondered if there was a woman between twelve and eighty in this town that his best friend didn’t know by name.

  “Doing fine. Caught your show last weekend. Nice to know the rumors are true. You’re good.”

  He grinned. “Glad you enjoyed
it. You know, I used to be a part of a duo.”

  Her brown eyes brightened with interest. “Yeah? What happened?”

  Clay turned a bland stare on Ethan. “My partner went off and joined law enforcement.”

  “And you became a high school math teacher,” Ethan shot back.

  Hannah stared. “You, Chief? Really?”

  Shifting in the booth, Ethan shrugged. “It was a long time ago.”

  “Well, that is a thing I’d like to see.” She lifted her order pad. “What can I get you?”

  “What can you do about a bacon cheeseburger?” Clay shot her the twenty-four carat smile that girls had been fawning over since he was a cocky nineteen-year-old. It hadn’t lost its potency.

  Hannah blushed and batted her eyes in his direction. “I’ll get Omar right on that. You want onion straws on it like your usual?”

  “That’d be great. And a Coke.”

  She made a note on her order pad. “How ’bout you, Chief?”

  Mentally adding an extra mile to tomorrow’s morning run, Ethan stuck the menu back between the napkin dispenser and the ketchup. “I’ll have the same.”

  “You got it.”

  As soon as she’d wandered away, Clay started in. “So when am I gonna get you back up on stage?”

  Here we go again.

  “I’ve been trying to get settled into this new job, establishing myself in the community. I need people to see me as Chief of Police before they see me on stage.”

  “It’s been three months, man. You’re in it, you’re settled, and I promise you everybody knows exactly who you are.”

  “Yeah, the new guy.” The new guy who was still in a probationary period for another nine months. Despite the fact that his transition had gone pretty smoothly, Ethan was sure the jury was still out for a lot of people. He was an outsider here.