Can't Take My Eyes Off You

by Kait Nolan

  “Then why don’t you look pleased?”

  He scrubbed a hand over his hair. “Because Harley made bail.”

  “He what? When?”

  “Got out this morning. Since I was in court, I didn’t get the message until lunch.”

  “How did he afford fifteen grand in bail?”

  “Hell if I know. But I’ve got an officer keeping tabs on him. His public defender should have put the fear of God into him.” Though he said it casually, Miranda understood that if the attorney hadn’t managed it, Ethan would be more than happy to finish the job.

  “Well, now that our requisite tall guy is here, let’s get started suspending the lights.” Norah’s voice cut through the chatter, effectively putting an end to the discussion. “Ladies, if you want to keep working on that balloon arch?”

  As was usually the case when Norah gave an order, everybody leapt into action. As soon as Miranda came over to help with the balloon arch, Delaney handed over the end. “I’m sorry. I have to go.”

  The girl’s expression was pinched, and she was a little pale.

  “Honey, are you okay?” Miranda started to reach toward her, but Delaney simply backed away.

  “I’m fine. I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

  Frowning, Miranda watched as she went, trying to decide if she was upset or ill or if, perhaps, she’d missed her meds. She’d seemed fine just a few minutes ago. Then again, Miranda’s focus had been on Ethan. She sure hoped Delaney wasn’t getting struck down by a strep infection. They were short-handed enough at the clinic.

  After another hour and a half, Miranda was forced to concede that Norah was right. The lights were beautiful. Chinese red paper lanterns hung at intervals along the strands, adding a nice flair to the look. Matching balloons made fun arches over both entries and reminded her of the prom she’d attended with Clay all those years ago. The stage had already been set up at one end of the gym. Tables had been placed along the perimeter of the space, draped with white tablecloths and still awaiting the centerpieces, but overall, it was coming along.

  She and Ethan were among the last to leave.

  “Are you walking me to my car because you’re worried about me walking around in our bustling metropolis after dark or because you’re hoping to wrangle an invite to come over?”

  “Can’t it be both?” He brought the hand he held to his lips. “I missed you today.”

  They’d both had crazy schedules the past week. And yet somehow, no matter how busy they’d been, he’d made it a point to find his way back into her bed every night. She’d made it a point to keep him there until morning.

  It wasn’t sustainable. Miranda really needed some sleep. Tomorrow would be an early day, with appointments booked solid until early afternoon, when she was cutting out to get a much needed haircut for the Valentine’s Dance. But she knew she wouldn’t say no. She didn’t think she’d ever say no to him.

  “Well, as you’re a responsible public servant, it’s only right that you see me home. Just to make sure I get there all safe and sound.” She punctuated the statement with a flirty smile.

  “I am the epitome of responsibility.” To demonstrate, he leaned in to fasten her seatbelt himself, pausing for a lingering kiss while he was at it.

  “I do find that unwavering sense of duty incredibly sexy.”

  “Good. I’ll be right behind you.” On that, he shut her into the car.

  Blowing out a breath, Miranda fought to focus for the drive home. It wouldn’t do to be pulled over for driving under the influence of lust. Grinning at the thought, she pulled out of the parking lot.

  She’d barely made it two blocks before sirens split the night. A fire engine came around the corner, lights flashing, gaining speed. Miranda pulled her car off to the side of the road, allowing it to pass. The sight got her blood pumping the same way it did when a new case hit the ER. As it flew by, she wondered where they were headed and whether it was a fire or medical call. Either way, she sent up a quick prayer it wasn’t serious.

  The engine turned north, and she began sifting through everyone she knew on that side of town as she trailed somewhat behind.

  Not my business.

  But as the engine took yet another turn in the direction of her own neighborhood, she found herself picking up speed. Maybe she’d just do a drive by, in case it was a medical call. She could help.

  As the fire engine turned onto her street, Miranda gave up even pretending to watch the speed limit. She had several elderly neighbors. Was it Miss Betty? Mr. or Mrs. Gifford? Her brain raced through all their known medical conditions, then stalled out entirely as she made the corner and saw firemen spilling out of the vehicle, leaping into motion.

  In front of her own house.

  Miranda was already sprinting for the house when Ethan screeched to a stop. He threw open the door and raced after her, catching her before she reached the porch.

  She kicked and bucked in his grasp. “Let me go! That’s my house that’s on fire!”

  He only tightened his hold. “No. Stop and look. They’re going around back.”

  She stopped struggling and followed his gaze to where the firefighters were hauling hose into the backyard. He could smell the acrid tinge of smoke on the air, hear the shouts of the men as they coordinated. Even as they stood, more volunteer firefighters pulled up at the curb, tugging on turnout coats and pants before throwing themselves in to help.

  “Get another line going. Wet down the deck and roof so it doesn’t spread to the house!”

  “See, it’s not the house.”

  “I have to see. I have to know.” Miranda spun away from him, running around the opposite side of the house. Ethan followed, determined to keep her out of harm’s way.

  Miranda pulled up short at the corner of the house. The shed in the back corner of the yard poured smoke. Flames shot through a hole that’d been burned in the roof. But even as they watched, the water began to beat back the blaze. A second hose opened up, catching both of them in the blow back as the fire fighters doused the deck and roof.

  Ethan tugged her back. “It’s just the shed. The house is okay. C’mon. Let’s let them do their job.” He kept his tone calm and matter-of-fact, though his brain was firing a mile a minute, considering the implications, wondering if it was arson. And if it was, what the next escalation would be.

  The fire was out in a matter of minutes. One of the men broke away, tugging off his helmet as he came toward where they stood on the front lawn. Ethan recognized him from the bowhunter safety course.

  “Dr. Campbell, I’m Sean Murphy. We’ve got everything taken care of. Fire’s out. You were really lucky your neighbor saw the smoke and called it in. We were here in time to put out the fire before things got really bad. The shed is pretty much a loss, but it didn’t spread.”

  “Thank you.” She blew out a breath, obviously struggling to find some composure. “Any idea what started it?”

  “Things are still cooling, but we found a can of linseed oil tipped over on a shelf. At a guess, the top wasn’t adequately sealed and it set up a slow drip on the stuff underneath and eventually spontaneously combusted. Linseed oil is highly flammable and gets hotter as it evaporates. It’s a really common cause of fires.”

  “How long would something like that take?” Ethan asked.

  “Hard to say. Depends on how bad the can was leaking. The cold weather would’ve slowed things down some. Might have been hours. Might have been days to build up enough concentration.”

  “Could it be arson?”

  Miranda’s head whipped toward him and Sean’s gaze sharpened. “If the can was tipped over deliberately, then yes, it could be. But usually if arsonists go this route, they’ll use oily rags. We aren’t seeing evidence of that. Most fires caused by linseed oil are accidental.”

  Most, but not all. The timing of this one just seemed a little too coincidental, given everything else going on.

  Beside him, Miranda stiffened, her face going ashen. “Oh
God. Did you see any evidence of…of a cat inside?”

  A cat? She didn’t have a cat.

  “We haven’t been through everything yet, but we didn’t see anything right off,” Sean assured her.

  “What cat?” Ethan asked.

  “Percy. The neighbor’s cat. He’s always getting into the shed to go after mice. I had to shoo him out the other morning after I put the shovel away. I didn’t look to see if he’d messed anything up, just nudged him out and locked up again. He jumps on everything. He could’ve knocked the can over, and I wouldn’t have known.”

  “Sounds like your most probable fire starter,” Sean agreed.

  “The damned cat drives me nuts, but I wouldn’t want him to die like that. I just wish they’d keep him in the house and off my property.”

  “We’ll do a more thorough inspection once everything cools. If there’s anything concerning, you’ll be the first to hear about it, Chief.”

  “Thanks, Sean.”

  The cat was a logical explanation. It should have put Ethan at ease. But it didn’t. Once they got into the house, he couldn’t settle until he’d checked the whole thing from top to bottom, looking for…well, he didn’t know what he was looking for. Something out of place. Some evidence someone had been inside. He found nothing. That didn’t make him feel any better either.

  Miranda found him in the living room. “I just got off the phone with Mrs. Gifford. Percy is safe and sound at home, and he’ll be staying that way. She was horrified her little angel caused all that damage.”

  “If he caused it.”

  Her mouth pulled into a frown. “Of course he caused it. I saw him in there days ago. You heard Sean. It makes the most logical sense.”

  It did. Based on Occam’s Razor, the cat was at fault. But Ethan’s gut was still clanging. He had to credit that for the crazy that spewed out of his mouth. “I’m moving in.”

  She stared at him. “You’re what now?”

  He hadn’t thought it through, but the idea was out there now. “If you don’t want me in your bed, I’ll sleep in the guest room. Or you can move into my place. But I don’t want you alone until I figure out who’s behind all this.”

  “I don’t need a bodyguard because of some vandalism. And certainly not because of a shed fire caused by a stupid cat. You are totally jumping into this ridiculous hyper-protective mode over nothing.”

  Her breezy acceptance that the cat was at fault made him want to punch something. It wasn’t nothing. He’d seen too much as a Marshal, spent too much time on protection details, where things turned to shit on a dime. That leap from opportunistic harassment to premeditated violence was completely unpredictable. It could come at any time, and he didn’t even know which direction to look. The lack of progress on finding the person targeting Miranda had him on edge, trying to anticipate what was coming. He’d fallen into bodyguard mode as easily as he’d fallen into her bed.

  He could tell her all of it, share the hair-raising tales of the shit he’d been through to very clearly show her how situations exactly like this could blow up. But would it work? If he told her this stuff, just to prove his point, he ran the risk of alienating her. With her rose-colored glasses view of Wishful, she might continue to cling to her perceptions. She had that nostalgic need for it to be safe. A small town retreat from the big city life she’d left behind. He also ran the risk that she would believe him. Did he really want to be responsible for permanently ruining that optimistic outlook that helped balance his cynicism?

  Ethan needed more evidence than just his gut before he went down that path. Struggling to shove down his frustration, he crossed over. “I’d rather worry about nothing than risk you getting hurt.” He combed her hair back with his fingers. “This isn’t just me being a cop and going the extra mile. You matter.” It was a dim expression for what he was coming to feel for her.

  When she only continued to stare at him in stunned silence, Ethan’s gut sank. Here he was pushing too far, too fast. Again. Hadn’t he promised himself he wouldn’t do this? That he’d take it slow and easy? And here he was again, getting ahead of things. Maybe he could’ve stuck to the plan if she hadn’t been in danger. But that wasn’t the reality they faced. He wondered what he could do or say to salvage this situation. Honesty won.

  “I know this is another big step away from that Fun and Simple Plan we were on. But I think we already established that got shot all to hell. This thing between us isn’t casual.”

  Miranda dropped her gaze as she reached out to curl her fingers around his waist, sucking in a slow breath and letting it out again in a sigh that had Ethan all but vibrating with dread. “No, it isn’t.” She looked up again. “Tell me something. You’ve been here every night for the past week. Was that because you felt the need to play bodyguard or because you wanted to be with me?”

  His answer mattered. If he said the wrong thing, he had no doubt she’d kick him out and send him on his merry way. But he didn’t want to lie to her.

  “I came because I couldn’t stay away. Because I think of you all the time. And because I can’t imagine a better way to end the day than being next to you.”

  Her eyes softened, and she brought her hands up to frame his face. “Then I think you should pack your stuff.”

  Her acquiescence had him blinking. “Really?”

  “You matter to me, too. I think about you all the time, and I can’t think of any better way to start the day than waking up next to you. So yeah. Really. I think we should give this whole living together thing a trial run.”

  Having his words reflected back left him feeling more than relieved. It felt right. And as she tipped her face up to his, he vowed he’d do whatever it took to keep deserving this. Deserving her.

  Chapter 16

  Miranda stepped out of the shower and reached for a towel. She’d shaved, rubbed, buffed, and moisturized every inch for tonight. She, who claimed to eschew romance, was positively giddy at the prospect of this dance. It was ridiculous. She hadn’t been this excited in high school. God help her if Norah got wind of it—she’d never let Miranda hear the end of it. There might even be chanting along the lines of “Miranda and Ethan sittin’ in a tree...”

  From the bedroom, she could hear him on the phone. He needed to get his own shower if they were going to make the dance on time. Wrapping the towel around her body, she strode out of the bathroom to tell him so.

  His eyes zeroed in on her and heated, though his tone didn’t waver. “I want extra patrols out at Monarch House.”

  Miranda sobered, shooting Ethan a questioning glance. He just shook his head in a nothing-to-worry-about gesture.

  “No, Cleveland. I am officially not on duty and not on call tonight. I do not want to hear from you for anything short of alien invasion or the zombie apocalypse.” He paused to listen as he trailed a finger along her still damp shoulder. “No, not for that either. The Sheriff’s Department is on notice to help out with anything that Darius and Rowan can’t handle on their own.”

  Almost faster than she could blink, Ethan’s hand shot out and yanked away the towel, spinning her naked body against him. Miranda stifled a giggle and fought to give him a stern look.

  “Mmmhmm. That’s right.” His hand skimmed down her back, over her butt, and squeezed.

  Two could play at this game. Miranda pulled his shirt free and efficiently unzipped his pants, sliding her hands into his boxer briefs to cup his very fine backside.

  “That should cover it. I gotta go. I better not be talking to you later.” Ethan clicked off the phone without a goodbye and tossed it on the dresser. “You smell amazing.” He buried his nose against her throat and continued exploring down to her legs. “Mmm, very nice.”

  “What was all that about?”

  “I was doing whatever I could to ensure we aren’t interrupted tonight.”

  “A nice idea. What about the extra patrols out at the women’s shelter?”

  “Lily Mae called earlier today and said one of her ladi
es thought she saw a prowler the other night. Might be nothing or might be something. There are any number of lowlifes who could be sneaking around out there to cause trouble for those women. I’m not taking any chances with them. But for tonight, all that is someone else’s problem. I gave orders.”

  “Think it’ll work?”

  “Hell if I know. But I’ve given everything to the job since I started in November. It’s time for you to come first. In more ways than one.”

  When his hand headed up the inside of her thigh, Miranda shoved away. “As appealing an idea as it is to take you up on that right now, we don’t have time. You need to shower, and I’ve got to finish my hair and makeup before I get dressed.”

  “You could come join me in the shower.” His voice dropped to that gravelly range that had her knees going weak.

  “I am wise to your ways, Ethan Greer. If you get me in that shower, you will spend half the night making me scream, and we’ll never make it to the dance.”

  His lips curved in a self-satisfied smirk. “You like it when I make you scream.”

  “So much.” No sense in denying what he’d been proving on a regular basis. “But screaming can wait until later. Go get cleaned up, Cowboy.”

  Ethan huffed out a sigh. “Fine. But I’m just gonna be devising more ways to torture you when we get home.”

  Miranda moved over to her underwear drawer. “Promises, promises.”

  Laughing, he headed for the shower. When it cut on a few moments later, she shot a glance at the bathroom door and gave in to the urge to heave a girly sigh.

  He’d called this home. Maybe it had been just a slip of the tongue. She kept waiting for the idea of it to freak her out. She’d never cohabitated with a boyfriend before. She hadn’t even had a roommate since Norah. But the panic never came.

  Ethan had slid so seamlessly into her life here. First into her bed, then into her house. Over the past couple of days, she’d made space in her closet, emptied some drawers. His razor and toothbrush sat on the bathroom counter, very clear reminders that she had someone occupying her space. And they looked right, somehow. Just as the boots that sat neatly by the chair looked right, as if they’d always belonged in that spot. The sight of them made her unreasonably happy. And that was just stupid.