by Kait Nolan
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
What's Next In Wishful
Other Books By Kait Nolan
Sneak Peek From If I Didn't Care
Know Me Well
By Kait Nolan
Know Me Well
Written and published by Kait Nolan
Copyright 2015 Kait Nolan
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: The following is a work of fiction All people, places, and events are purely products of the author’s imagination Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is entirely coincidental.
License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only The ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should purchase your own copy Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author
Cover design by Kait Nolan
For Erica,
Because you said there weren’t enough pharmacists as sheroes.
P.S. You licked it, so that makes it yours.
Love,
K
Acknowledgments
This book would not have been possible without the unwavering support of my critique partners/editors, Susan Bischoff and Jessica Fritsche; my extremely tolerant husband; or the unflagging cheerleading of my girls of The Pie Society.
I love you all!
Chapter 1
Riley Gower hadn’t planned on spending her anniversary surrounded by boxes of stock and empty shelves. From a business standpoint, the empty shelves were a good thing. It meant people were actually buying the products she carried, in addition to the medications kept behind the counter. In the year since she’d bought out her boss’s share in Wishful Discount Drugs, that had often meant the difference between keeping the lights on and having to rob Peter to pay Paul. She was in the black—barely—and that merited celebration, albeit more of a chips and queso and margaritas at Los Pantalones variety than champagne and caviar.
Instead of celebrating, she was camped out filling shelves, well after the late summer sun had faded, because Ruby Fellowes, her cashier/stocker/order-taker/general-Jill-of-all-trades, who’d worked at the pharmacy since God was a boy, had taken off all week to help prepare for her niece’s wedding. At her current rate, Riley would be lucky to eek out a half-assed celebration with the emergency bar of Toblerone in the vegetable drawer of her refrigerator before she fell into bed and passed out from sheer exhaustion.
“Happy businiversary to me,” she muttered.
The butt busting was worth it, even if owning her own business felt a little more like prison than freedom at the moment. It meant she’d succeeded on her own terms, without a handout or a hand up from some man. Her success and its consequent stresses were hers and hers alone, and she couldn’t put a price on the value of that.
As her phone rang out with the tones of “Crazy Train”, all pleasure in her accomplishment bled away. She could ignore it, let the call go to voice mail. It might be nothing.
But long experience had her instincts tightening with dread. She knew it wasn’t nothing. Bracing herself, Riley answered. “Hi Mom.”
“Hey, baby.” Sharilyn sounded tired, with that forced edge of cheer that made Riley’s stomach curdle.
“What’s wrong?”
“Wrong? Why should anything be wrong? Can’t I call my only child to say hello?” She was talking too fast, too breezy, so Riley said nothing, just waited. At length, Sharilyn hiccuped and burst into tears. “Hal left me.”
Riley repressed a curse and tried to find some sympathy. “I’m sorry, Mom.”
Sharilyn launched into a diatribe about everything that had gone wrong on the multi-month cross-country RV trip she’d taken with her most recent beau. By the time her mother finally wound down and got the tears under control, a tension headache had sunk claws deep into Riley’s scalp.
“I really am sorry.” And some part of her was. Because her mother had truly believed Hal, like all his predecessors, was The One, and she’d given herself whole-heartedly to the relationship.
“It will be all right.”
The note of determination creeping into Sharilyn’s voice made Riley wonder whether she already had some other guy in mind to save her this time. Or was it to be Riley herself in the role of knight to her mother’s damsel in distress? Riley’s own armor was pretty damned battered after all these years.
“I need a favor, sweetie.”
Wary, she asked, “What?”
“I’m out here all on my own and Hal didn’t leave me with anything.”
Don’t say it, Riley thought. Don’t you dare say it.
“I need you to loan me some money.”
She said it.
Riley pinched the bridge of her nose. Why was she even calling it a loan? It wasn’t like she’d paid back any of the other loans Riley had made her over the years when the boyfriend or husband du jour turned out to be a shit and not interested in dealing long-term with the damsel in distress routine her mom had perfected. Christ, Riley had taken over the bill management in junior high school, started paying the mortgage her freshman year of college.
“Just enough to get me home,” Sharilyn continued.
“Mom, did you forget you sold the house?”
“Of course I didn’t. But Wishful is still home.”
How could it still be home when she had nowhere to live here anymore?
“I thought I could stay with you for a while.”
Oh God. Riley could actually feel the blood vessels behind her eyes threatening to burst.
“There’s no room at my place, Mom. I don’t even have a guest room.”
“I could sleep on the couch. It’d just be for a little while. Until I get back on my feet.”
Until she found another sugar daddy with a savior complex. A thump sounded from above, pulling her attention.
“Riley?”
“Hang on a sec.” Straining, Riley listened harder, expecting scratching or other signs that squirrels or raccoons had taken up residence in the empty second floor of the building. But what she heard were clear footsteps. Person-sized footsteps.
“Mom, I need to go.”
“But what about—”
“I’ll wire you money for a bus ticket home.” Never mind that it was her last $300. She couldn’t leave her mother stranded in Timbuktu. “Text me where you are.” Riley hung up before Sharilyn could say anything else. Striding across to the light switch, she flipped it off so she could see the street outside. The empty street.
Surely anyone with legitimate business up there would be parked out front. And what legitimate business could there be? The upstairs had been vacant forever.
She dialed 911.
“911, what is your emergency?” Riley blessed the interconnected nature of small towns as she recognized the voice of the dispatcher.
“Janette, it’s Riley Gower. I’m at the pharmacy a
fter hours and there’s an intruder upstairs.”
“Are you alone?”
“Yes. I’ve been stocking.”
“Are the doors locked?”
“Yes.”
“Okay you stay put. I’m sending somebody as soon as I can, but it might take a little bit. There’s a pretty big domestic disturbance going on across town.”
Assured someone was coming, Riley hung up and called Molly Montgomery. Her old boss still owned the building, so whatever was going on up there affected her. From behind the counter, she listened to the phone ring and watched the front windows, waiting to see one of the police cruisers along Pitts Street or a shadowy figure coming out of the alley. Nobody picked up. Riley opted not to leave a message until there was something more definitive to report. No reason to worry her unless something was really wrong.
In the silence, the ticking of the wall clock sounded almost as loud as the intermittent footsteps over her head. The intruder wasn’t making any efforts to be quiet. There were no sounds of stuff being moved. Of course, there might not be any stuff to be moved.
Five minutes dragged into ten that seemed more like weeks. Still no police.
Riley was tired and edgy, and all she really wanted was to head home. But she couldn’t just go with somebody up there. Somebody who was evidently in no particular hurry to leave.
Oh, for heaven’s sake. This was Wishful, not the big city. Anybody looking for drugs would try to rob the pharmacy directly. It was probably kids, looking for…who knew what. Maybe some kind of love nest or a place to smoke. They’d be more scared of her than she was of them.
Riley swiped the counting spatula from behind the counter. It didn’t have an edge and might have had more in common with a pie server than a knife, but in the dark, it sure as hell looked like a blade and it was better than nothing. Taking a deep breath, she stepped outside and circled around to the side of the building. Slipping cautiously through the access door, she noted that no light shone in the stairwell, but a faint glow spilled out from the partially open door at the top.
Hardly daring to breathe, Riley climbed the stairs, thanking God that the treads were concrete, instead of wood or metal that could creak. At the landing she hesitated, peering inside.
In all the years she’d worked for Molly, she’d never been up here. Hadn’t ever had reason to. Like many of the buildings downtown, the second floor of the pharmacy was an apartment. Or at least it had been at some point in the distant past. In the narrow entryway, wallpaper peeled off in strips. She couldn’t see past the wall to the room beyond. Everything was silent now. No footsteps. No sound of teenagers necking.
Was there another exit? Had whoever broken in managed to get out before she came upstairs?
Ignoring the voice in the back of her mind telling her to turn back around and wait for Wishful PD, Riley clutched her counting spatula tight and eased inside.
No one was in what passed for the living room, which boasted two of the four street-facing windows. A hall branched off at the rear of the room. The only light shone out from a single open door on the wall opposite the windows. Moving as quietly as possible, Riley sneaked over to the door and looked into the room.
A hand clamped down on her shoulder.
Riley shrieked. The spatula fell to the floor as she reached across her body to grip his wrist, acting on long ago training as she tugged her assailant forward, jamming her elbow back into his ribcage, as she ducked and pivoted to twist his arm behind his back. Except that he countered, moving with her, doing something to shift the balance, until it was her arm twisting, her body crumpling.
Terror whitewashed her mind. She lashed out, no finesse, no technique, striking whatever she could reach. Her assailant let out an ooph and wrapped her in a bear hug, pinning her arms. She couldn’t suck in enough breath to scream again.
“Hey, hey! It’s okay! Riley, stop. It’s okay. It’s me! It’s Liam.”
Liam Montgomery. Her one time savior.
Because he meant safety, she let out a sob of relief.
His arms loosened, shifting her to face him, and she couldn’t fight because her legs had turned to noodles and every atom in her body wanted to turn into him and hang on.
“It’s okay. I’ve gotcha.”
Except he didn’t. He hadn’t. Not for twelve years.
She stood on her own now.
Straightening, Riley pushed at the wall of his chest. “Let me go.”
“Just take a minute to catch your breath.”
How the hell was she supposed to catch her breath when he was right there, in all of his big, badass Marine glory? Her heart renewed its frenetic thumping for entirely different, wholly unwelcome reasons. She shoved at him again before she could do something really stupid, like fist her hands in his shirt and drag his mouth to hers to put all this adrenaline to better use.
“Let me go, Liam.”
~*~
Liam could still feel Riley shaking. His instincts shouted to soothe and protect, and he was becoming very aware that the woman in his arms was a long damn way from the girl he remembered. He’d known that, objectively. But seeing with his eyes was a helluva lot different from feeling with his body. Now he knew just how well those exquisite curves of hers fit against all the hard lines of him. And damn him, he liked it.
She shoved again. Liam wasn’t sure her legs would hold her yet, but because he wasn’t positive she wouldn’t try to slug him again, he released her.
She stumbled, throwing up a hand in the universal stop gesture, even as he stepped forward, reaching out to steady her. Because, of course, she’d rather struggle than take help from him. And he’d earned that.
Liam curled his hands into fists to keep from touching her.
Riley let out a shaky breath and straightened. Whatever momentary softening had been brought on by fear was gone. “Jesus Christ, you about gave me a heart attack. What are you doing here?”
Clearly continuing to fuck things up with you.
He eyed her still clenched hands and tapped the tape clipped to his belt. “Measuring.”
“For what?”
“Mom’s decided she wants to rent out the apartment. She wanted me to look into doing some renovations up here.”
“She didn’t tell me.”
Liam found himself wanting to smooth away the furrow between her dark brows. Instead, he backed up a few paces to give them both some space and kicked back against the kitchen counter. “She only just decided at dinner. I ran out of projects at home, and I think she wants me out from underfoot. I’m making a floor plan.”
“At ten-thirty on a weeknight?” Riley demanded.
“It’s as good a time as any.”
“In the dark?”
“Most of the light bulbs are burned out. What are you still doing here? The pharmacy closed hours ago.”
“I’m working. Or I was, until you scared the bejeezus out of me.”
“Doing what?”
“Stocking.”
“What happened to Ruby?”
“Are you living under a rock? She’s out helping with Vivian Buckley’s wedding.”
Liam dimly remembered his friend Reuben Blanchard, who owned the local boxing gym, was standing up as best man in that wedding. He knelt to pick up the counting spatula Riley had dropped. “And you were planning on doing what with this?”
She scooped a hand through her dark brown hair and didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Intimidating the intruder.”
Liam lifted a brow. She scowled back at him, an expression he’d come to expect whenever he got within ten feet of her—which wasn’t often. It was a far cry from how she’d looked at him in high school.
“Good to know you still remember some of the self defense I taught you. That probably would’ve worked on somebody without combat training.” She could do with a refresher course, but now was absolutely not the time to bring that up.
Something flickered in her eyes before she held out her hand for the spatula. “Th
ankfully, I haven’t had cause to use it until tonight.”
“Glad to hear it.” He’d worried about that after he’d enlisted. Not that she’d have believed it, and not that she’d given him opportunity to say so in the last twelve years.
“I’ll go ahead and warn you, the police are on their way.”
“Sensible to have called them. Why didn’t you wait for them?”
“Good question.” This came from the open doorway.
Of course the responding officer would be Judd. Because the best friend who’d had Liam’s back since fifth grade was going to walk into this situation and know something was up. Shit.
Judd stepped inside, thumbs hooked in his utility belt. He nodded a greeting to Liam before pegging Riley with a gimlet stare. “I know Janette told you to stay put.”
“I thought it was just kids,” she protested.
“Was that before or after you called 911?”
Her shoulders stiffened. “If he had been a burglar, he could’ve trashed the place and been gone before you ever got here.”
“And you could’ve been hurt or worse,” Liam pointed out. “You know better.”
Her blue eyes narrowed to slits. “I’m not a child anymore, Liam, and you are not my keeper. Judd, I’m sorry to have wasted your time. As it’s not actually an emergency, I’m going home. It’s been an exceptionally long day. If there’s nothing further?”
“Just a warning. Next time you have to call on the police, wait for us to do our jobs instead of charging in blind. You might not be so lucky as to have one of the good guys on the other side of the door.”
Riley shot a glance at Liam that clearly questioned whether he fit into that category. “Understood. Thanks for coming. Goodnight.” She strode by him with an aloof grace worthy of any silver screen diva and slammed the door behind her.
Judd raised a brow.
Liam shook his head. “Sweet. She used to be sweet.”
“She still is—to everybody else. What’s up with that? I thought you were supposed to be charming with the ladies.”
