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.”
Why indeed?
“You know what? You’re absolutely right.” Ethan 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 was 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.