WHO I AM WITH YOU

  A WISHFUL MOMENTS NOVELETTE

  KAIT NOLAN

  Copyright © 2024 by Kait Nolan

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  CONTENTS

  Invite

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Epilogue

  Other Books By Kait Nolan

  About Kait

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  ONE

  “I know it’s last minute but I’d really appreciate it if you could come to our cookout. You’d be the perfect guest to round out the group. Plus, I’d love to catch up and see how you’re doing.”

  Robert Curry wasn’t exactly keen on being social, but even though he was no longer Wishful’s Chief of Police, he didn’t quite have it in him to deny the mayor. Sandra Peyton seldom did anything without reason, and a part of him hoped she had need of him in some professional capacity. The department was perpetually under-funded and understaffed, as small-town police forces frequently were, so it could happen. Maybe. It was worth rubbing elbows with whoever might be at this dinner to find out.

  “I think I can rearrange some things.”

  That nature documentary he’d been watching on Netflix would keep, and there were no prospective new cases in his inbox. Unless he actually wanted to respond to The Casserole Patrol’s latest assertion that someone was stealing toilet paper from the senior center. Yeah, no. Not being obligated to follow up with them might be the only good thing about not wearing a badge.

  “Great! We’ll see you at 6:30.”

  That gave him a little over an hour. As he hung up, Robert glanced down at the untucked flannel shirt and jeans that had become his uniform since his premature retirement from the department. Sandy wasn’t a woman who stood overmuch on ceremony, but even if this was some kind of casual, unofficial thing, he wanted to make a good impression. Plus, he couldn’t quite forget that her new husband was a freaking billionaire, no matter how down-to-earth Trey really was.

  He’d showered and scraped off more than a few days’ growth of beard when a female voice sounded from the front of the house. “Unc? You home?”

  Maybe his niece could help him figure out what the hell to wear. “Back here!”

  He was standing in front of his closet when Rowan stepped into the bedroom. She was still dressed for work in her Wishful PD uniform and duty belt, her dark hair pulled back into a neat bun.

  “Just get off duty?”

  “Yeah.” As he turned, she blinked. “Whoa. I can see your face! What’s the occasion? Do you have a date?”

  Robert rolled his eyes. He hadn’t dated in longer than he cared to remember. There’d been nobody worth making the effort for, and he was fine with his bachelordom. Mostly. Even if his house felt exceptionally quiet and empty most of the time.

  Maybe he should get a dog.

  “I’ve got a dinner over at the mayor’s. A cookout. Trying to figure out what to wear.”

  “Ah. So you want professional but casual.” She studied him a moment, then stepped to the closet. “Keep the jeans and add this.”

  With a shrug, he accepted the plain black button down. Worked for him.

  “Go with your black cowboy boots and top the whole thing with your sport coat.”

  “Drawing the line there. It’s a cookout. This is fine.”

  Rowan’s gaze strayed to the scar on his chest as he slid on the shirt, but she didn’t comment. That was progress. She no longer looked at him as if he was going to fall over any second. As much work as he’d put into his recovery and lifestyle changes since his heart attack two years ago, it was about damned time.

  “Where’s Nash?”

  At the mention of her fiancé, Rowan lit up. It was so different from how she’d been when she came to Wishful two years before. Getting the hell out of Houston and catching the guy who’d murdered her partner certainly had a lot to do with it, but Nash Brewer definitely deserved credit for the rest. Robert would be forever grateful that she’d fallen for his neighbor, a former Navy pilot who ran his own charter company these days when he wasn’t on duty as a reserve officer for Wishful PD. It meant the great-niece who was more like a daughter had moved to Wishful, and Robert got to see her all the time now, instead of on her rare vacations. If there’d been one good thing to come out of his heart attack, it was that.

  “On his way back from Lawley. He had a quick pickup from Atlanta. That romance author lady who did a signing here a while back. I guess she’s doing another one. We were thinking we’d go hit up Los Pantalones for dinner. I was gonna ask if you wanted to come with, but it seems like you’re covered.”

  “Yeah, looks like I am.”

  He finished dressing and loaded up his wallet and keys. “I need to get rolling. Don’t wanna be late.”

  Rowan followed him to the door, studying him as he grabbed a coat. “You look good, Unc.”

  Maybe he ought to make an effort a little more often, so he didn’t look like a hobo or something.

  Pulling her in for a hug, he pressed a kiss to her brow. “Give Nash my best. Let’s get together this weekend, if y’all are off.”

  “Sounds good.”

  They walked out together, he to his truck and she across the street to the house she shared with Nash.

  The drive across town to Sandy’s house didn’t take too long. The driveway in front of the two-story brick Colonial was already full, so he parked at the curb. As he stepped out, he eyed the house. There’d been an addition put on since she remarried, but looking at the place, nobody would expect a billionaire lived here. Still, it felt strange to come here in an unofficial capacity. Particularly as he recognized several of the vehicles in the drive as belonging to various members of the extended Campbell clan. Sandy’s family was sprawling and close-knit, so he wasn’t surprised at least some of them were here. It did make him reassess the purpose of tonight’s invitation. Maybe it wasn’t work related.

  Hearing voices from the backyard, Robert followed a brick path around the house to the back gate. He was lifting the gate latch when he heard the laugh—a big, unapologetic, booming bray of amusement that struck him like a sucker punch to the gut. Needing to see the owner of that voice, he stepped through.

  She stood at the edge of the gardens, a petite woman with generous curves in all the right places, her head tipped back so long, dark, strawberry-blonde hair cascaded down her shoulders. She gestured with the glass of wine in her hand, clearly punctuating some story, but he didn’t hear a word of what she actually said. He was too busy trying not to swallow his tongue because she was one of the most stunning women he’d ever seen.

  “Oh! Robert, you made it!”

  At Sandy’s exclamation, the other woman looked in his direction. He found himself snared by big blue eyes framed in laugh lines. Then she smiled, and he knew he was in big, big trouble.

  TWO

  All Dinah McClure could think as she took in the newcomer was, Well, aren’t you a tall drink of water?

  With salt and pepper hair, a craggy face that told all sorts of stories, and sharp eyes that were fixed on her in blatant assessment and—she hoped—appreciation, he immediately captured her writer’s imagination. Well-worn jeans encased long legs, and the shearling-lined jacket and boots told her he was a man comfortable in his own skin. She continued to watch him as his attention slid away to their hosts.

  “Hey, Sandra. Trey.” He moved through the group, greeting everyone by name, offering a handshake.

  She’d watched her ex-husband do this kind of thing before, working the room. But there was no politician’s vibe the vibe here. It seemed this man knew and respected everyone and wasn’t sizing them up for what they could do for him.

  It was a diverse gathering, with Sandy Peyton, the mayor, and her husband Trey, the billionaire who’d fallen for her in college and let her get away. Dinah didn’t know the details of their second chance romance, but she’d been writing in the genre long enough she could fill in the gaps. Sandy’s nephew, Reed Campbell, owner of Inglenook Books, was married to Dinah’s own niece, Cecily. Dinah had broken her personal rule and gotten involved in making sure they sorted out their differences because, really, they were perfect together. Then there was Ethan Greer, the chief of police, and his wife, Sandy’s niece, Dr. Miranda Campbell. Looking at them now, nobody would know she’d been kidnapped, and he’d been shot during the rescue. And finally, there was fellow romance author Autumn Hamilton and her husband Judd. They’d been a childhood friends to lovers pairing through equally harrowing circumstances involving a fan turned stalker. Courtesy of all those phone calls where Cecily shared the local gossip, Dinah knew Judd had been the inter

im chief of police after the original chief had a heart attack, before Ethan took the job.

  “Let me introduce you to our guest of honor this evening, Dinah McClure. Dinah, this is Robert Curry.”

  “Nice to meet you.”

  Robert’s big hand wrapped around hers the same way his gravelly drawl curled around the rest of her, and she realized he was the former chief of police. He definitely didn’t look like a man who’d had a heart attack two years before. There was a strength in his grip and a bulk to his frame that shouted vitality and vibrancy. He was Walt Longmire with a honied drawl, and Dinah found that totally worked for her.

  She dialed up her smile. “A pleasure.”

  “Good timing, Robert. Food’s just ready to come off the grill.”

  Trey’s announcement started the great shift of refreshing drinks and loading up plates before they all settled around the long trestle table in the magnificent gardens that Sandy’s son had designed. Robert ended up across from Dinah, so she had an excuse to watch him while conversation amped back up. He did his own watching, largely staying quiet and taking in everything and everybody else.

  From one end of the table, Sandy spoke up. “I’m so pleased y’all were all able to come on such short notice. I know schedules can get hectic. Cecily, do you want to tell us all why we’re here?”

  Wait, this wasn’t just some welcome to town dinner?

  Dinah turned her attention to her niece. What was she up to?

  “Yes, thank all of you for coming. The reason I brought all of us together is that Aunt D has been having some writer’s block on the romantic suspense novel she’s working on.”

  Dinah winced. It wasn’t as if that was exactly privileged information, but she hadn’t been prepared to have it trotted out as fodder for dinnertime conversation.

  Cecily continued. “Given that we have access to not only another author in the genre, but one current and two former chiefs of police, I figure one of you is bound to be able to help.”

  Some sort of realization dawned on Robert’s face. “You’re the romance writer Nash flew in.”

  Dinah shouldn’t have been surprised. Small town, after all. But part of the reason for flying private was to avoid the public eye. She hadn’t anticipated that her movements would’ve already made the local rounds. “I am. Nash is a friend of yours?”

  “He’s engaged to my niece.”

  Of course he is.

  She picked up her glass of wine and sipped. “Ah. That would be Rowan? Formerly of Houston PD, now an officer in Wishful and the absolute love of his life?”

  Robert grinned, and damn if it didn’t transform his whole face from merely appealing to very, very sexy. “Yeah.”

  “He spoke of her on our flight.” Nash’s blatant adoration had made her somewhat jaded heart sigh. She might not have that sort of love in her own life, but it was lovely to confirm it still existed in the world and not just in her fertile imagination.

  “So, who’s up for answering some questions?” Cecily prompted.

  “Way to put everybody on the spot, child.” Me included. Not that Dinah couldn’t think of a dozen questions off the top of her head, but she hadn’t come prepared to discuss plot tonight.

  Cecily put on the imperious air of her blue-blooded, Greenwich-based family. “It seemed the most efficient way.”

  Judd sat back in his chair, clearly amused. “I know how this goes. I get it from my own wife.”

  Autumn snickered. “Yeah, but you wouldn’t get paid in the same sort of favors for answering her questions.”

  He draped his arm along the back of her chair, a man content with his lot in life. “Pretty sure those favors are what led to Ellie.”

  “The world’s most adorable consequence.” Autumn leaned in to give her husband a smacking kiss.

  Dinah glanced at Ethan. He shifted in his seat, tearing his dinner roll into unnecessarily small pieces as he tried to look like he didn’t want to run. “I appreciate the thought, but I’m working pretty long hours these days, catching up on all the paperwork that piled up while we were on our honeymoon.”

  She managed not to laugh at his obvious discomfort. When she glanced at Robert, he was arching a brow at Sandy, whose expression of total innocence suggested she was the reason he was part of this group. With a little shake of his head, he turned his attention to Dinah. “Well, I don’t know how much I can help, but I certainly have the time. What are your questions, exactly?”

  Oh, so many.

  “I appreciate the offer, and I’m happy to take you up on it, but I think perhaps that’s a conversation we’d best not subject everyone else to. Are you available to meet tomorrow at some point? Maybe I can buy you a cup of coffee for your trouble.”

  He offered a curt nod. “Alright. The Daily Grind. You know where it is?”

  “Sure do. Best coffee in town. What time works for you?”

  “Say, nine o’clock?”

  That was normally prime writing time for her, but under the current circumstances, she wasn’t getting a damned thing done. Which was why she’d come to Wishful. Besides, spending some more time with him might make this ongoing writer’s block she’d been fighting actually worth it.

  “Sounds good. I’ll be there.”

  THREE

  As Robert stepped into The Daily Grind the next morning, he had to remind himself that this wasn’t a date. Never mind that he actually had pressed his shirt and gone for the sport coat today to put his best foot forward. It had been a long damned time since he’d wanted to impress a woman, and Dinah McClure was one of the sexiest he’d ever met. She made him nervous. When was the last time he’d been nervous around a woman?

  A quick scan of the first floor told him she wasn’t here yet. That gave him a minute to get ahold of himself.

  “Chief!” The cheerful call of Cassie Callister, owner of The Daily Grind, pulled him out of his wool-gathering. “How are you this fine morning? I’m not used to seeing you come in for morning coffee anymore since you’re not downtown for work these days.”

  Thanks for the reminder. But he didn’t let any irritation show. Cassie was a sweetheart, and she meant well. He stepped up to the counter. “I’m meeting somebody.”

  The long-lashed eyes behind her bright red glasses turned speculative. “Oooooh.”

  Cassie loved nothing more than gossip. Especially romantic gossip, so he needed to cut that shit off in a hurry.

  “It’s not a—” The sound of the bell jangling pulled his attention to the door.

  Dinah stepped in, her hair done up in one of those messy knots that looked effortless and perfect. A few strands had fallen to frame her face and trail down the curve of her neck. Robert had the absurd urge to bite that nape.

  Get a fucking grip, Curry. This is a professional meeting only.

  He cleared his throat. “Mornin’.”

  “Sorry, I’m a few minutes late. I rode in with Cecily and was walking over from her office.”

  “It’s fine. I haven’t been here long.”

  Dinah's gaze slid to the counter, where a mug already waited with his usual. “You already order?”

  “Not precisely. I just always get the same thing.”

  “He’s a creature of habit, our Chief Curry,” Cassie explained. “What can I get you?”

  If Dinah thought it was weird that anyone would still use the title he’d held for twenty years, she didn’t show it. She scanned the chalkboard menu. “A large Sumatra Mandheling Supreme. Black.”

  “You got it.”

  As Cassie bustled away to make the drink, Dinah caught him studying her and arched a brow.

  Robert had to ask, “Black?”

  She shifted the messenger bag she carried to get out a wallet. “That surprises you?”

  “You just strike me as somebody who’d like all the frilly floofy coffees with the sugar and cream.”

 

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