by Kait Nolan
Ethan living here was temporary. A trial run. Softer emotions aside, it was meant as a protective measure until he caught whoever was behind the vandalism. A necessary—to his mind—step for her safety. Was he enjoying the side benefits of that? She’d made sure he was. But that didn’t mean it was the legitimate next step in their relationship. She understood him well enough to recognize that he couldn’t separate her as a case from her as a woman. Oh, she absolutely believed he cared for her. But she couldn’t help wondering if they’d be here now if he didn’t think she was in danger.
Miranda didn’t like second guessing herself. It wasn’t like her not to just straight up ask where they stood. But she’d passed the point where the answer to that didn’t have the power to hurt her. She’d passed a whole helluva lot of points with Ethan, rushing headlong into l—no, she wasn’t in love with him. Was she?
You practically have cartoon hearts and little chirping birdies circling your head over the sight of his boots in your floor.
Oh God. She clutched the matching bra and panty set to her chest as her heart began to pound.
The shower switched off.
She shimmied into her underwear, willing her hands not to shake. This was only a disaster if he didn’t feel the same way. But what if he didn’t? What if this was all really just his protective instincts and they dissipated when he finally figured out who was harassing her and put a stop to it?
He came out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his hips. “Is that what’s going underneath your dress? Damn, that’s gonna have me hot all night.”
Miranda forced her lips into a flirty smile. “That was the idea.” She could do this. Realizing she was in love with him didn’t change how they interacted. She’d just hang on to that piece of information until such a time as it made sense to tell him. When she was more certain of his feelings.
Ethan frowned at her. “Something wrong, Legs?”
“Not a thing. I was just thinking I should call the answering service and make sure they direct any calls to the hospital tonight.” Look at her thinking on her feet.
Actually, she should totally make that call. He’d gone the extra mile to try and block off tonight. To put her first. He’d told her about the problems he’d had in his marriage because he’d always put the job first. She understood the realities of that and accepted them, just as he accepted the same about her. But still, he made the effort. That had to mean something, didn’t it? Or was it just that their relationship was new and he was still in that best-foot-forward phase? God, she hated being so uncertain.
“Good plan. Because once I get you back out of that dress, I may have to shoot anybody who dares interrupt us.”
“I do love your commitment.” With a wink, she sailed past him, back into the bathroom to finish getting ready.
“I had a meeting with a focus group at the senior center earlier this week. They’re pumped at the idea of the teens with seniors program,” Norah announced. “Of course, the Casserole Patrol wants the option to select their teens—which in their world means some hot young athletes to ogle.”
“Does anybody else feel dirty?” Cam asked. “I feel dirty.”
Ethan made a non-committal noise of agreement. His focus was on Miranda, who stood nearby, in conversation with Delaney. She smiled and laughed and otherwise behaved normally, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off with her. Was she feeling the pinch of having him invade her space? He hadn’t exactly given her a choice in the matter. She’d seemed fine about it, and the transition had gone remarkably smoothly, considering. Maybe that little honeymoon period was over.
“Earth to Ethan.”
Realizing he hadn’t heard the last couple minutes of conversation, he dragged his attention back to the Crawfords. “Sorry. You were saying something about the Casserole Patrol?”
Norah looked amused. “We’d moved on a bit from that. I was asking how things were going with you and Miranda.”
“It has not gone unnoticed that you’ve been staying nights.” Cam interrupted.
Ah, so Cam was going to step into the role of protector in Mitch’s absence. Ethan had wondered when he’d hear something from her family. He wanted to tell them it was just as a safety precaution, but that’d be lying. It was a safety measure, but it certainly wasn’t only that. Was Miranda doubting that? Was that what that little funk was about?
“That a problem?”
“Seems kinda fast.”
Norah popped her husband on the arm. “Oh, stop being such a fuddy duddy, Cam. I think it’s wonderful.”
Cam’s flat stare said he was reserving judgment about that. That was fine. Ethan wasn’t concerned with proving anything to him. The only one he needed to prove anything to was Miranda herself. At the sound of her laughter, Ethan looked back in her direction. Her honey blonde hair flowed in waves down her shoulders, glowing a bit beneath the canopy of cafe lights above. Her cheeks were flushed and her smile was conspiratorial as she shared some private joke with Delaney.
She was beautiful, smart, compassionate. How the hell did he get so lucky?
Norah rolled right on without input from either him or Cam. “When it’s right, it’s right, and I don’t see the point in pussy footing around about it.”
“You know what? You’re absolutely right.” He shot a quick smile at Norah. “I’ll be right back.”
Stepping up to Miranda, he pressed a hand to the small of her back, pleased when she automatically leaned into his touch. “Sorry to interrupt, ladies.” He bent his head to Miranda’s ear. “This should say what needs saying.”
She frowned in confusion. “What?”
Ethan pressed a quick kiss to her cheek and cut through the crowd toward the stage, where Clay was coming up on the end of the first set. His buddy caught sight of him as he wrapped the Tim McGraw cover. With a series of quick hand gestures, Ethan made his request and had his answer.
“I’m about to step down for a quick break here, folks, but don’t you leave the floor because our very own Chief of Police Ethan Greer is about to take the mic.”
Ethan hopped up on the stage, accepting the guitar from Clay with a nod.
“Go get her, buddy,” Clay murmured.
Ethan slid the strap over his neck, feeling the familiar weight settle around his shoulders. He felt the performer persona slide into place just as easily. “Evening, Wishful. How’re y’all doing tonight?”
There were a few hoots and hollers.
“Come on now. Y’all have been listening to Clay Turner. Let’s give him a warm round of applause for keeping you in the arms of your sweetheart for the last forty-five minutes.”
That got a reaction. The whole room began to clap, with a few enthusiastic whistles thrown in for good measure.
“That’s more like it.” Ethan strummed a few fingers over the strings, absently adjusting the tuning. “You know, I’ve never been a fan of Valentine’s Day before. The chocolate, the flowers, the cards always seem more about commercialization and profit than an actual expression of your feelings. So I thought I’d do something a little different tonight for my girl.” He sought her out in the crowd, finding her still back by the refreshment table with Delaney, Cam, and Norah. Oh, he had her attention now. “Miranda, this is for you.”
The lights, the crowd, it all faded away as he began to sing. When he’d done this at the bonfire, it had been about proving something and showing off. But this was for no other reason than to reassure Miranda of his feelings—the ones he hadn’t actually said aloud because he had some kind of timeline in his head for when the right time would be. And that was just stupid. He felt what he felt—and life should’ve taught him by now not to take such things for granted. He could be killed tomorrow, and he didn’t want her uncertain of where they stood.
In his periphery, Ethan saw Delaney’s face twist in something that might’ve been pain and she slipped back, melting into the crowd. He filed it away but didn’t tear his gaze from Miranda. Nothing wa
s going to interrupt tonight. The dancing couples parted for her as she made her way toward the stage. Ethan barely heard the wild applause when he finished.
He didn’t even glance at Clay as he handed back the guitar. His eyes stayed on Miranda alone as she stepped onto the stage, plucked his Stetson off his head, and pressed her mouth to his—a feat more easily accomplished in her sky high red heels. Ethan scooped her up and spun her in a circle. Whistles and whoops split the air.
Miranda laughed. “That is never, ever going to get old.”
“Guess I felt the need to make a public statement.”
“That, my dear Cowboy, is what we call a spectacle, and this one will have people talking for a while.”
“That worry you, having your name linked to mine?”
“Not a bit.” She settled his hat back in place and curled her fingers through his. “Come dance with me.”
As Clay took the stage again, they found an empty space on the dance floor and lost themselves in each other. He loved holding her like this, feeling the subtle give of her body as she followed his lead. He hoped he’d be able to do this for years to come.
“You feel better?”
Miranda lifted her head from his shoulder. “About what?”
“Us. You seemed a little off when we left the house. Like—I don’t know—you’d been too much in your own head and were overthinking things.”
“I suppose I was. I was worried we were suffering from The Speed Effect.”
“From the what now?”
“You remember that old Keanu Reeves movie, Speed? The take away lesson is that relationships that develop under extreme circumstances don’t last.”
Ethan tried to remember anything about that movie, but all he could bring up was something about a bus that had to be maintained at a certain speed or a bomb would detonate. “There was a romance in that movie?”
“Exactly.” She nodded, as if that explained everything.
“Legs, I’ve been crazy about you pretty much from the moment you plowed into me at Dinner Belles. That’s got nothing to do with my wanting to protect you from whatever trouble’s got you in its sights.”
He felt the subtle relaxation of her body. “It’s nice to have that confirmed.”
“So we’re okay?”
“Cowboy, we’re way better than okay.”
Smiling, Ethan bent to kiss her again.
“I’m so sorry to interrupt, Miranda, but your phone was ringing.” Norah handed over Miranda’s little purse.
Miranda winced as she dug out the phone to check the readout. “I’m sorry. The answering service isn’t supposed to call me tonight. I gave them explicit—”
The frown had Ethan going on alert. “What?”
“It’s the alarm company I use for the clinic.”
Ethan led the way, weaving through the crowd until they passed beneath the balloon arch and out into the hallway, away from the worst of the noise.
Miranda hit redial. “Yes, this is Miranda Campbell. I had a missed call.”
Ethan listened as she confirmed her information and knew their fun night was over before she’d even hung up the phone.
“Something set off the alarm at my clinic.”
“Let’s go.”
Chapter 17
Two police cruisers sat in her parking lot, lights reflecting off the building like a garish red and blue disco ball. Darius Greeley and Rowan Beale stood in front of the open door. None of the interior lights were on, so it was just a gaping, dark hole. What would she find inside? The grim set to the officers’ faces extinguished any lingering hope that it had been a false alarm. Miranda closed her eyes for just a second and prayed it wouldn’t be too bad.
Ethan squeezed her hand. “Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it.”
She could only nod. When he pulled a gun from a lockbox and armed himself before sliding out of the truck, Miranda said nothing. They walked over to join his officers.
“Doctor Campbell, I’m real sorry about this,” Darius said.
“Have you already cleared the building?” Ethan asked.
Rowan nodded. “Yes, sir. Whoever did this is long gone.”
“Are there cameras?”
Miranda tore her attention from the open door. “No.” It hadn’t seemed necessary. This was Wishful. But she thought about the robbery at the pharmacy as she followed him inside. Using a pen, he flipped on the lights.
The waiting room was largely undisturbed, though the potted plants Shelby babied had been upended all over the floor. She was going to have a hissy fit. Together, she and Ethan moved through the door to the back, turning on more lights as they went. Miranda hissed in a breath as she saw patient files ripped and scattered all over the floors. It seemed all of them had been yanked from their shelves behind Shelby’s desk. The front desk computer monitor had been smashed and the tower lay cracked open on the floor. The phone was tipped over, the handset dangling by the cord. The automated voice of the operator echoed in the otherwise quiet space. “We’re sorry. You must first dial a one or—”
One by one, they checked the patient rooms. With each and every one, Miranda felt herself closer to absolutely losing it. Rolls of paper had been yanked from the exam tables. Glass jars of supplies were shattered on the floor. Exam instruments were scattered everywhere. Each would need to be examined for damage and resterilized. The x-ray room was blessedly locked, so at least the most expensive piece of equipment was probably safe, but everywhere she looked, Miranda saw dollar signs adding up and flowing out of the accounts that were already taxed by the weight of her student loans and the cost of her business loan on the practice. Even with insurance, this was going to be a huge blow.
“Where do you keep the drugs?”
“In the lab.”
“Show me.”
Miranda led Ethan to the back, clinging to her control by a thread. A lot of good the lock had done. The vandal had simply smashed open the glass case. The contents of the case were scattered across the floor, along with the bottles and boxes of other medications and testing supplies. More money, down the drain.
Keep it together. Keep it together. She didn’t want to lose her shit in front of Ethan. She didn’t want to stress him out or make him feel like this was somehow his fault for not doing his job. He’d been frustrated enough with this case, and no one could’ve predicted this. Except he’d been telling her for days this was more than she’d made it out to be.
“Do you have an inventory?” Ethan’s calm, matter-of-fact voice pulled her back to the present.
“Yes. We reconcile it at the end of every day.”
“So you can check what’s left against that to determine what, if anything, was taken?”
“Yes.”
“Do you keep much on hand that would appeal to thieves?”
“Not a ton. The injectable pain meds would be about it.”
Ethan glanced around, his mind clearly churning through possibilities. “There have been a string of robberies of pharmacies and doctor’s offices over in Lawley. Judd’s team had a bust a couple weeks ago. Didn’t catch the guy, but seized most of his stash. It’s possible the thieves have expanded their territory.”
Miranda crouched down in her heels.
“Don’t touch anything,” he warned.
“Either the vandal didn’t know what he was after or this wasn’t about drugs. The Demerol is still here.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. Can you tell if anything’s been taken?”
Miranda looked around at the chaos that had been her nice, pristine clinic and wanted to weep. This…this was where she lived. This was the heart of her. “Not offhand. I’ll need to bring in my entire staff to help deal with all of this. The mess has to be cleaned up, and Jesus God, the files. Shelby’s gonna murder whoever did this. It’s going to take...I don’t even know how long it’s gonna take to put them back to rights.”
“It’s possible someone was after particular medical records. Do you have any means of determi
ning what’s been taken there?”
“I bought this practice from Dr. Klein, so there are paper records going back a ways. We’re required to keep them for seven years from last service. When I bought the practice, I invested in an electronic data management system because most insurance requires electronic filing now. We’ve been working on digitizing old patient records so that the electronic record is complete, but that’s not finished yet.”
“Is there an off-site backup of those digital records?”
“Yeah.” And thank God for that.
“Okay. I know there’s a lot of work to be done. We’re going to finish working the scene. You’ll need to contact your insurance company, I expect.”
Miranda scooped a hand through her hair. “Yeah.” Would they even be able to send someone out before Monday? How long would she have to stay closed in order to deal with this mess? Loss of revenue aside, her patients needed her.
“I’m gonna go talk to Darius and Rowan, get the ball rolling on this.”
Miranda nodded and stayed where she was as he moved back down the hall.
There’d be no keeping this quiet. Her family was sure to hear about it by morning. That was both a blessing and a curse. They would help deal with the chaos as soon as the police were finished doing their thing. And they’d be all up in her business in the name of protecting her.
Much as she didn’t care what anyone else thought of Ethan moving in with her, she wasn’t exactly thrilled with facing down her parents over that fact. Her mother would probably already be knitting baby booties and her dad—well, he was an old-fashioned Southern daddy. He might be able to willfully overlook the signs that she and Ethan were sleeping together, but living together was a whole other thing to Peter Campbell. She didn’t need that stress on top of everything else.
