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 two sentences with the woman, and both of those were today. He certainly had no claim on Miranda Campbell, and he sure as shit 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.”
As Wishful’s not-quite-brand-new police chief turned those clear gray eyes to hers, Miranda couldn’t help but hear Clay’s words repeated in her head.
It’s time to get back out there.
For the barest instant, she forgot what she’d come here to talk to him about because her long neglected lady parts were busy standing up and waving. I volunteer as tribute!