Can’t Take My Eyes Off You

Chapter 1-2

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’d barely 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. And he’d done plenty of noticing in the ambulance bay of the hospital the first time he’d seen her. She’d been in a fine temper then, too.

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 b***h. 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.

From the corner of his eye, Ethan noted the gossips packing up and heading out. His eyes slid to Miranda. She scowled after the pair, muttering something under her breath and stabbing at her lunch with more savagery than necessary.

“Getting your ass back on stage and showing folks you can be approachable would go a long way toward being something other than the new guy.”

Ethan dragged his attention back to Clay. “Yeah, I remember how people treated me when we performed back in college. That’s not the kind of approachable I want to be.”

Clay laid a hand over his heart. “Those were the days. But unlike you, I’ve been performing all the years in between, and it’s been at least a few months since anybody threw their underwear on the stage.” At Ethan’s cop stare, he sobered. “Seriously though, Wishful isn’t a college town, so people aren’t gonna behave like they did in Austin. The Mudcat is the kind of small, intimate venue you used to love to play.”

Back when it had been entirely about the music. Yeah, Ethan couldn’t deny that had some appeal. He still played for himself and had occasionally stepped out for open mic nights in Dallas, but it had been years since he and Clay had performed together. He’d be lying if he didn’t admit he missed it. Hadn’t he taken this job so he’d have the chance for more of a life outside work? Part of that life ought to include taking back up hobbies that didn’t involve honing his skills with a gun or attending training seminars.

“All right. I’ll think about it. We can at least set up some rehearsals.”

Clay smirked. “Think you remember how?”

“Smartass. I may not have been on stage in ages, but I can still keep up with you.”

“Great! How about you prove it Saturday?”

“Can’t. I’m running a bowhunter’s safety course Saturday. Maybe Sunday afternoon?”

As Hannah slid their burgers onto the table, Clay nodded, satisfied. “I can work with that.”

Across the diner, Miranda and Norah rose, shrugging into coats.

“Getting back into music isn’t the only thing you’ve been avoiding.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Dating, my friend. You haven’t done any of it since the divorce.”

Yeah, he’d been busy trying not to die, then changing his entire life. Women hadn’t exactly factored into the equation. And Ethan had been fine with that. Nobody had sparked his interest anyway.

Miranda’s laugh rang out, rich and unabashed. The sound rolled over him like warm molasses.

Until now.

“She’s single.”

Ethan jerked his attention back to Clay. “Who?”

“Miranda. I assume you weren’t eyeing the new Mrs. Crawford.”

“I’m not eying anybody.” But he couldn’t stop himself from glancing back as the two women got to the door.

Clay continued as if he hadn’t even spoken. “She’s a lot of fun. Helluva dancer.”

Something in the casual tone had Ethan’s hackles rising. Still, he kept his expression bland and reached for the ketchup. “And you’d know that why?”

“We dated a while.”

The bottle jerked in his hand, making his fries look like the victim of a particularly gruesome homicide. Stupid. He’d exchanged all of five sentences with the woman, and two of those were today. He certainly had no claim on Miranda Campbell, and he sure as s**t had no right to be aggravated that she’d gone out with his best friend. “I expect you’ve dated damn near every single woman who’s breathing in Wishful at one point or other.”

“My streak isn’t near as wide as you seem to think.”

Ethan just lifted a brow at him.

“Not since I came home, anyway,” Clay amended, grinning. “Anyway, it wasn’t recent. We had some fun together, but we just didn’t click.”

Ethan didn’t want to think about what kind of fun that might’ve been. “Doesn’t matter one way or the other.”

“So you think being Chief of Police means you don’t get a love life either? Man, why did you move here again?”

“You know why.”

“Yeah, and I remember something in there about having a life while you still had one. You’re falling down on that, brother.”

Ethan scowled at his friend. “I’m easing in at my own pace.”

“Yeah, the Geriatric 500.” Clay leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Look, I know Becca did a number on you. But it’s time to get back out there.”

The flash of honey gold hair had Ethan looking up.

As if summoned by Clay’s words, Miranda stood there, those hazel eyes snapping, her long, surgeon’s fingers balled to fists. “Chief Greer, I’m really sorry to interrupt your lunch, but I need to report a crime.”