Can't Take My Eyes Off You Page 6

“Delaney?”

  Ethan nodded. “Only woman in the class. She’s a damned good archer for an alleged newbie. Girl’s got impressively steady hands.”

  “Alleged?” Cam asked.

  “She said she’d never shot a bow before, but her form was too good. I figure she was keeping prior experience quiet so as not to threaten the men. Or maybe it was a bid at flirtation.” He shrugged. “I was setting her up for another go when the idiot shot me.”

  Fake inexperience so the big, strong man will get up close and position you properly? Classic tactic and one Miranda might have been tempted to use herself in a similar situation. But she didn’t see Delaney going for a guy ten years her senior. “Delaney never said a word. She’s not one for gossiping.” Lord knew, she’d been too often the victim of it herself.

  “Then she’s a rarity in this town. Far as I can tell, it’s the professional sport around here.”

  Autumn laughed. “You aren’t wrong.”

  Ethan glanced at the stage then back to Miranda. “One more dance before he finishes his set?”

  Chili cheese fries be damned. “Love to.”

  “I think we’re about to call it a night,” Cam announced.

  “Early meetings tomorrow,” Norah added.

  Miranda didn’t want to think about the price she’d be paying tomorrow morning. Right now, she just wanted to spend some more time with this interesting, attractive man. Preferably with his hands on her. “See y’all later.”

  “C’mon, Legs.” Ethan grabbed her hand.

  Norah shouldered her purse and made Eyebrows in their direction, clearly demanding details later. Miranda just smiled and followed Ethan back to the dance floor. Clay transitioned into another slow song, one that had been a favorite of hers back in high school.

  “He’s pulling out old school stuff tonight,” she observed. “Slow’s not usually his speed these days.”

  “That’s because I was the balladeer of the two of us.”

  Now she really wanted to see him with a guitar in his hands. “Yeah? You’re not doing anything to dim my curiosity.”

  “A healthy curiosity is a good thing, to my way of thinking.”

  “Only if you’re planning to satisfy it.”

  His only response was that slow, molasses smile. The one that said he knew plenty about how to satisfy a woman. The idea of it sparked off needs she’d too long denied. Well, they’d just see who got satisfied, wouldn’t they?

  Game on, Cowboy.

  “So what do you usually do when you’re not working, Doc? How do you relax? Are you a go out with friends or stay in at home sort of woman?”

  “There’s a time and place for both. When I’ve had a really hard week, and I’m too tired to face another soul, I like to order Chinese and binge watch old westerns.”

  Ethan’s eyes brightened. “You like old westerns?”

  “Love ’em. My granddaddy hooked me when I was little. Spent most of my childhood sitting with him in his big old recliner, watching Gunsmoke. It was how the family dealt with my horse-crazy phase. He died when I was in high school, but I like to watch the reruns, still. They remind me of him.”

  “You’re gorgeous, smart, compassionate, and you’re a Gunsmoke fan,” he said in wonder. “Doc, you may be the perfect woman.”

  Miranda laughed. “I guess you could say my fascination with the U.S. Marshals started early.”

  Another beat of attraction pulsed between them, and this time Miranda knew she wasn’t mistaken.

  “Was Matt Dillon on Gunsmoke what got you interested in being a Marshal?”

  “No.”

  When he said nothing else, Miranda lifted a brow. “That’s it? Just ‘No’?”

  His lips curved in amusement at her frustration. “Maybe I’ll tell you the whole story one of these days.”

  Did he always play this hard to get?

  When the song ended and Clay took his break, they returned to their table, scooping up the drinks that had been delivered in their absence.

  Determined to be properly sociable, Miranda eyed Autumn’s ginger ale. “How are you feeling?”

  She laid a hand over the barely perceptible swell of her belly. “ Good. The morning sickness is finally past.”

  Ethan blinked. “You’re pregnant?”

  Beaming, Judd wrapped an arm around his wife. “We are. Thirteen weeks.”

  “Congratulations!”

  Miranda liked the quick hug Ethan gave Autumn and the hearty handshake to Judd. His obvious pleasure for the couple told her he’d gotten close to them since he’d moved here, that they hadn’t just been a case for him.

  “This calls for celebration. What can you have?”

  Autumn laughed. “Pretty much anything but alcohol.”

  “Better question: What do you want?”

  “I can’t seem to get enough cheese fries.”

  “Then cheese fries the lady shall have. Judd?”

  “You can buy me a celebratory beer when you’re truly off duty and can drink one with me.”

  “Fair enough.” Ethan flagged down a waitress and put in the order. Turning back to Miranda, he asked, “Do you know what’s going on medically with everybody in this town?”

  She shrugged. “That’s small town medicine.”

  “How do you deal with the ethics of it? Of treating people you know and have relationships with?”

  “As I said before, there are a lot of blurred lines. I wouldn’t do major surgery on anyone I was really close to, but it’s hardly a violation to treat my family for bronchitis or whatever the latest viral infection is. If I didn’t treat the people I know, I wouldn’t have any patients.”

  “So, if I let somebody else remove my stitches, I could ask you out?”

  Delighted, Miranda grinned. “I can give you a good referral for a follow up.”

  Judd hooted. “Oh, Mitch is gonna love this.”

  Miranda pointed at him. “No. You are not siccing my brother on me or Ethan. This is not fodder for discussion at Poker Night.”

  “Everything’s fodder for discussion at Poker Night.”

  Miranda rolled her eyes. Men. She turned to Ethan, intending to get his opinion, but realized his attention had strayed to something across the bar. She shifted to see what he was looking at—and saw Harley Forbes making his way through the room.

  As conversation continued at their table, Ethan shifted in his seat for a better view of Forbes. Resentment bubbled low in his gut. He didn’t want to waste his attention on this low-life. But this was the job and he was, technically, still on duty. In truth, he’d been damned lucky to get this long a stretch to flirt with Miranda without interruption.

  Was Forbes already drunk? Analyzing his gait, Ethan didn’t think the man had come in already lit. He didn’t make waves as he headed for the bar, though the usual cloud of belligerence hovered around him. People automatically fell back, as if sensing impending trouble. Ethan almost, almost wished he’d get into it with somebody. Just go ahead and do something, anything he could be hauled in on. But that meant Ethan would have to deal with it, and he wasn’t ready to call it a night with Miranda yet. Another bar brawl wouldn’t be enough to hold him for long. Not the kind of hold they needed to get Rene out of that house. He didn’t have the same faith in that eventuality that Miranda did. Experience had taught him that people seldom changed, and that meant Harley Forbes was likely to keep beating on his wife, and she’d keep making excuses for him.

  Ethan did his best to plug back into the conversation. By the time the appetizers were eaten and another round of drinks were bought—mostly soft drinks and water—Clay was back up on the stage and Forbes was nursing his second beer. Ethan and Miranda made their way back to the dance floor. It was a two birds, one stone situation, as he got to touch her and was in a better position to observe his quarry. But Forbes, for once, was behaving like a model citizen. Ethan scowled.

  “Sucks having your hands tied, doesn’t it?” Miranda observed

  Realiz
ing he’d been all but ignoring her, he shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

  The flirtatious smile she’d been wearing most of the night slid into something far more serious. “No, don’t apologize. He’s trouble. You know it. I know it.”

  That was the damned truth. “You heard any more from Rene?”

  “No. She’s not due in for a follow-up for a few weeks.”

  “You think she’ll come?”

  “If for no other reason than to get her cast off, yeah. I’m just hoping she doesn’t need medical attention for something else before that. After how everything went down last week, I don’t know if she’ll come to me.” The thought clearly troubled her.

  “You did what you thought was right.”

  “I pushed too hard. It’s such a fine line to walk, and I may have strayed too far across it.”

  “Would you have been able to live with yourself if you hadn’t tried?”

  Miranda considered that. “No. Believing people can be saved is how I’m wired.”

  “Then you did what you had to do.” Much as he didn’t share her optimism, he appreciated her conviction.

  At the bar, Forbes finished off his beer and shoved back. Ethan tensed, watching him walk toward the door. He wasn’t staggering, wasn’t weaving, but something about the whole situation had Ethan’s gut twanging. He wanted to follow the guy.

  Miranda squeezed his shoulder. “Go.”

  “What?”

  “You want to tail him, tail him. You do what you’ve gotta do.”

  Surprised, he searched her face, looking for the resignation or irritation he’d grown so accustomed to in Becca. All he found was understanding. He filed that away to think about later. “You are one helluva woman, Miranda Campbell.”

  She shot him a saucy grin that had dimples winking in her cheeks. Damn, if he didn’t have a soft spot for dimples. “You’re a helluva dancer.”

  “I had a great time tonight.”

  “So did I.”

  “I meant what I said. I want to take you out for real.” Nobody was more surprised about that than Ethan himself.

  Smoothing her hands along his shoulders and down his arms, Miranda stepped back and lifted her hazel eyes to his. “Then I expect, Mr. Ex-Marshal, you’ve got the skills to track me down later.”

  That was a pursuit he’d look forward to. “I expect I do.” He wanted to kiss her. To lean right on in and take that slightly bottom-heavy mouth with his. But now wasn’t the time or place. When he kissed her the first time, he wanted to linger over it, not rush out the door after a sleazeball. So instead he squeezed her hand and let her go. “Night, Legs.”

  “Night, Cowboy.”

  Forbes had already climbed into his truck by the time Ethan made it outside. He waited in the shadows until the man had pulled out of the lot, watching for reckless driving or other signs of DUI. Nothing. He bolted for his patrol car and followed behind, far enough back that he didn’t think Forbes would notice him. Either the man had caught on to the tail or he was on his best behavior. He didn’t so much as blow a stop sign on the way back to his trailer. Forbes parked by the little rusted out Ford Escort and went inside.

  Ethan drove on by, then doubled back, parking just out of sight with his lights off so he could watch the sagging single-wide. The outside light turned off and a few more interior lights came on. Despite the frigid temperatures, Ethan rolled the window down so he could listen. But there were no screams, no sounds of argument. All was annoyingly quiet.

  As he sat in the cold, his ass began to ache. The over-the-counter painkillers he’d taken had long since worn off, and he no longer had the distraction of Miranda—those legs that went on for days, that smile that woke up a part of him he’d thought dead and buried. Ethan wanted to see more of that smile, wanted to make her laugh. He loved her laugh. It was big and bawdy and unapologetic. Nothing about Miranda Campbell was small or repentant. He liked that about her, liked how she could go toe-to-toe with him. And he liked the surprise that she didn’t seem at all put out when he’d had to leave for the job. After years of festering resentment from his ex-wife, the idea that a woman could understand that sometimes the job had to come first was more than a little shocking. Of course, they hadn’t even been on a formal date, let alone in any kind of relationship. She didn’t have expectations of him. But it looked like he was gonna get a chance to find out if that acceptance would extend beyond the night. Neither of them had been subtle about their interest, and at the earliest opportunity, Ethan had every intention of following up on that connection.

  After an hour, the lights went off in the trailer. Apparently bedtime in the Forbes household. Nothing was going to happen tonight and, it seemed, he’d cut his evening with Miranda short for no reason. As he cranked the cruiser, Ethan wondered if he’d made the right call. Was he just looking for something to fill the time because he was having some trouble adjusting to small town life? He’d gotten so used to chasing fugitives, enforcing federal laws. This whole scene of small-town policing was a switch, a decision he’d made after losing his wife and nearly his life because of the job. Maybe this focus on the situation with Forbes was out of line.

  But Ethan knew, deep down in his gut, that Harley Forbes was a volatile son of a bitch who abused his wife. This kind of shit was a cancer in a small town like Wishful. It wasn’t a matter of if something was going to happen, it was when. God willing, Ethan would be able to nip it in the bud before it turned into something for the six o’clock news.

  Chapter 6

  “So I heard somebody was cutting a rug at The Mudcat last night with our Chief of Police.” Shelby Abbott, Miranda’s office manager, peered over her bright green cheaters, brows raised in expectation.

  “This has nothing to do with our staff meeting,” Miranda told her. The staff meeting she was beginning to wish she’d cancelled. After the late night, her ass was dragging.

  “Girl, we are your staff, this is a meeting, and we want details,” Keisha announced.

  “There are no details. We danced. That was it. And then he had to leave to go take care of police business.” She’d tossed and turned for quite a while once she’d gotten home, wondering if anything had happened with Harley. She’d wondered, too, if Ethan was going to follow through on his promise to ask her out or if that had just been flirtation of the moment.

  “I heard up at The Grind that he couldn’t take his eyes off you,” Delaney teased.

  Miranda gave fleeting thought to throwing her under the bus by mentioning the alleged flirtation at the bowhunter safety class, but the girl had brought coffee for the entire staff this morning, including the triple shot espresso that was the only thing keeping Miranda on her feet just now, so she’d earned clemency. Buying herself some time, Miranda tipped the coffee back and took a long swallow. Not as good as the sex she wasn’t having, but definitely on up the list of the best things in life. Who decided businesses were supposed to be open in the mornings anyway?

  “Since when is my love life up for discussion?”

  “Uh, since you finally show signs of getting one,” Shelby pointed out.

  Well hell. She’d stepped right into that one. “One night of dancing does not a love life make.” Never mind the fact that Ethan was the first guy she’d been legitimately interested in since she moved home.

  “You’re really not gonna give us anything?” Keisha asked.

  “I am not because there’s nothing to give. Now where are we on strep tests?”

  Miranda managed to wrangle her nosy staff back on task long enough to get them through the meeting. Then the doors opened and the initial flood of patients kept them all hopping and nobody had time to think about Miranda’s love life or lack thereof.

  Her mood took a distinct nosedive when she checked the next chart to find Ralph Slocombe waiting for her. As a result of an on-the-job accident at one of the now-defunct factories several years back, he had a problem with chronic pain. It was an all too familiar problem, one that was a recipe fo
r opiate abuse. At one time, it had been a lot easier for patients to doctor shop, going from physician to physician and getting separate prescriptions for various narcotics meant to manage pain. Now that the state had implemented an online tracking protocol, identifying drug seekers was a lot easier. The downside was that they were a lot harder to handle.

  Before she even went into the room, she pulled up the records. He was ten days out from when his current prescription ought to be finished. Maybe she’d luck out and he was here for something else. Blowing out a breath, Miranda braced herself for a fight and went inside.

  “Mr. Slocombe, what brings you in today?”

  The whip thin man shifted on the exam table. “It’s my back again, Dr. Campbell. It’s been giving me fits. Lots of spasms. It’s been hurting me so bad, I cain’t hardly sleep.”

  “Have you done anything to aggravate the injury?”

  “Just normal livin’. You know it ain’t been right since the accident.”

  For just a moment, Miranda wished she were still in Chicago. At least there, she could point him to alternative means of managing pain. But small town Mississippi didn’t lend itself to acupuncture or medical marijuana. She knew without even suggesting it that Ralph couldn’t afford the rates the Babylon Spa charged for massage, and she wasn’t sure it would help anyway. “Did you try the muscle relaxers I prescribed you a couple months ago?”

  “I’m out. They didn’t do a thing to touch the pain. Only thing even made a dent was the Loritab. I came to see about getting more.”

  “I cannot legally prescribe you more opiates for another ten days. The original prescription I wrote you should have lasted that long.”

  “It wasn’t a strong enough dosage. I been hurting, Doc.” The truth of that lay in the glimmer of tears gathered at the corners of his faded blue eyes.

  Miranda’s heart twisted. “I’m sorrier than I can say about that, Mr. Slocombe, but my hands are tied. We can try some other things to get you through, but no one will be able to prescribe you more narcotics for ten more days.”

  He exploded off the table. Miranda shot across the room on her stool hard enough to slam into the counter.