Making It Right (Most Likely To #3)

“If the agent thing interests you.”


Her heartbeat pulsed in her head. “I don’t think I ever thought about it.”

“You have some time. I wouldn’t take the promotion until after the first of the year.”

“You think they’d hire me?”

Gill tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “They’d be fools not to.”

Could she? Was she capable? “The FBI,” she whispered.

“Something to think about.”

Jo looked around the room. Her father’s room, albeit a different color with different furniture.

“You’ve made things right here in River Bend, JoAnne. Maybe it’s time for you to make things right for you.”

She was smiling as she slipped back into the crook of his arm. “I’d have to live in Eugene.”

“Yeah. But I have that part covered,” he told her.

“How’s that?”

“You’d live with me.”

They already bunked up whenever they were in the same town.

“Live with you?”

“Of course. Where else would you live?” The foregone conclusion laced the tone in his voice.

“My own place . . . an apartment?”

It was Gill’s turn to pull away and make sure she saw his eyes. “Why?”

“I don’t know—”

“No. You live with me. You’ve burned through three lives since we met. I don’t trust you on your own.”

“Don’t trust me?”

“Nope. Sorry. So you move in with me. We can visit here on the weekends—”

“Whoa, back up. I have a life here.”

“No. You’ve been living here. Your life is with me.”

“My life has been in River Bend.”

He hesitated. “I’d make a really bad deputy sheriff.”

The thought of him in her uniform made her laugh.

“See.”

“You would suck.”

“But you.” He kissed her nose. “You’d make a stellar agent.”

Jo placed a fist on his chest, rested her chin on it. “Stellar, huh?”

“You kicked ass at Quantico.”

“All my friends are here, Miss Gina . . .”

“And you’ll only be two hours away and you’d visit often.”

She sighed, already halfway making up her mind. She’d never had the option before. “I’ll consider it.”

His smile was a slow, easy grin. “So . . . shack up, get married?”

Jo narrowed her eyes. “Was that a proposal?”

He rolled his eyes. Which Jo wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him do before. “It’s a conversation before a proposal. It isn’t like we’ve been outside of a hospital long enough to know that’s what we want.”

“True.”

His hand lingered on the skin of her naked back as they spoke. “I like the idea of getting married,” he told her as if he had just figured that out. “My parents did it the other way, but I don’t know . . . maybe—”

“Wait, wait . . . your parents aren’t married?”

Gill shook his head. “God, no. Hippies to the core. Miss Gina would love them.”

“And that worked?”

“Worked for . . .” Gill looked at the ceiling for the answer. “Going on thirty-six years now.”

Jo blew out a breath.

“As far as I see it, when two people love each other, a piece of paper is just that. But if you want it, I get it.”

“I don’t think that was a proposal either.” She was teasing him, and his words of love hadn’t escaped her.

“So you’re a proposal girl . . .” He winked. “Got it.”

“Well, I want a ring at least.”

“Duh. I can’t have men hitting on you,” he said.

“Oh, they’re gonna hit on me.”

He frowned. “Good thing I’m a big man.” His hand moved over the curve of her ass and squeezed.

“You know I love you,” she told him for the first time.

“I know. And I, my sexy sheriff, love you. But you know that, too.”

She crawled up his chest, intending to make sure he knew just how deep her affection was, when the sound of something soft hit the side of the house.

They both stiffened.

Jo relaxed first.

“I’ll get my gun.” Gill tried to move her off of him.

“Don’t you dare,” she told him, pinning him back to the bed.

“Someone is outside.”

She nodded. “Yep.”

He tried moving her again.

“You can’t shoot my brother.”

“Drew?”

“Yeah . . . it’s reunion night.”

“What does that mean?”

“You’ll see . . .” Jo pressed her lips to Gill’s and made him forget all about the noise outside the walls of her father’s home.

The next morning, when she and Gill stood outside in a sea of toilet paper–laden trees, he turned to her and said, “We are moving to Eugene.”

“Fine. But I’m keeping the house.”

“And I’m using the cabin.”

“It will be a great place to take kids.”

Gill squeezed her close. “I really hope you’re talking about our kids.”

She sighed. “I think I’m gonna need that proposal before we talk about children.”

He kissed the side of her head as moist, sodden toilet paper dripped from the roof.

Rocco, her rottweiler pup, barked at their heels.





Acknowledgments

So many people to thank . . . where to begin? Let me start with Kari and Brandy, my inspirations for this series. Our friendship grounded me as a kid growing up and inspires me as an adult today. Thank you, Kari, for the information on Quantico that you could share. I hope the places I strayed from reality weren’t completely off the mark. And if they are, well, this is a work of fiction.

To Dawna, my second mom . . . while you were nothing like my Miss Gina, you were the one I ran to for advice and safety when I needed an adult. You will always hold a special place in my heart.

To Suzie, the cop’s daughter in the neighborhood . . . when I think back on the things you used to do to tick off your dad . . . and how much restraint he displayed by not throttling you. Those guys next door, however, were worth the risk!

To all the track and field coaches who have dedicated their knowledge and skills to my boys over the years, thank you!

To Jane, my forever agent and friend.

To Kelli and everyone at Montlake for your understanding my fire delays this year. I’m happy to have changed my original ending of . . . “And then a fire swept through River Bend and everyone died. THE END.” I think this one was better.

Now back to Andrea:

To my Andi. When I wrote the dedications to Brandy and Kari in the first two books of this series, I realized that I perhaps needed to dedicate a book to myself. Mainly because Zoe’s book so closely resembles my life. But things happen for a reason. So as I sat down to write this dedication and acknowledgment, I saw Jo standing over her father’s final resting place and pictured me standing over yours. I spent half of my working life saving lives as a nurse, partly because I wanted to save yours. But life doesn’t work that way. And when you live your life to please someone else, you aren’t living, you’re simply alive.

I miss you, my dear baby sister, and promise to live my life fully, for the both of us.

Catherine