A_Wanted Man - Alana Matthews Read Free

was pregnant. The Pritchards were one of the richest families in Williamson, and there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that Riley’s father, Jonah, had nudged the boy into action, hoping to avoid the possibility of a bastard child claiming heir to their precious family fortune.
    By the time Callie was born, Riley had been killed when a base supply struck overturned and crushed him, so the only parent she’d ever known was the woman she called Nana Jean.
    Despite being widowed and borderline destitute, Nana had stepped up to the challenge of raising an infant and had done it without complaint.
    Most of the time.
    What few complaints Nana did have, came much later in Callie’s life, after a string of romantic disasters had made it clear that her granddaughter’s spirit wasn’t easily tamed, a trait she had inherited from her mother.
    “I just wish you’d settle down,” the old woman often told Callie. “Find yourself somebody to share your life with. I won’t be around to hold your hand forever.”
    But Callie was defiant. “Who says it needs holding?”
    “Listen, child, you can be the most independent woman on the face of earth, but you still need a little romance in your life. It’s been far too long.”
    “So why didn’t you ever get married again?”
    “Your grandfather was one of a kind. Any man tried to replace him would only wind up heartbroken, and I’m not about to do that to someone.”
    “He must’ve been pretty special.”
    Nana nodded, a wistful look in her eyes. She’d never been a sentimental woman, so Callie knew that what she was about to say was sincere. “This’ll sound like a lie, but I swear to you that up until the day he died, my heart would flutter every time Walter walked into the room.”
    Callie smiled. “That’s sweet.”
    “Yes, it is, and I keep hoping you’ll find someone who does that to you . I thought you had it, once, but you’re too stubborn to—”
    “All right, Nana. I think we’re done here.”
    This conversation was just a rehash of a dozen others they’d had over the past few years, Nana worried about Callie’s ever-ticking clock. Such exchanges usually ended with Callie politely but firmly suggesting that Nana let her worry about her own love life. That she had more important things to think about, like putting bad guys in jail.
    And that , she insisted, was about all the testosterone she was interested in dealing with these days.
    “You go on, keep lying to yourself,” Nana would always say—a handful of words for which Callie had yet to find a suitable response.
     
     
    N O MATTER WHAT CASE she might be working on, Callie tried her best to go home for lunch every day, and today was no exception.
    Once the crime scene was squared away and the evidence had been tagged and bagged, she dropped Rusty off at the station house with instructions to make sure Tucker Davies called her just as soon as he got a hit on the Glock.
    Then she drove the mile and a half home, where she knew Nana would be waiting for her with a sandwich and a glass of iced tea.
    Their usual routine was to sit and watch Nana’s favorite soap. And as the melodrama played out on screen, Callie would invariably start thinking about how old and frail Nana was looking and worry that she might not be around long enough to see how the stories ended.
    Today, however, as Callie pulled up to the curb, she was surprised to find a plumber’s truck parked in their driveway. Which didn’t make sense. They’d had the entire house repiped less than six months ago, and for the money they’d spent, there shouldn’t be any need for an emergency visit. Besides, Callie herself usually handled such arrangements, and if there was a problem Nana would have called her.
    But when she went inside, she found Nana and the plumber sitting in the front parlor, sharing a pitcher of tea, as if this were nothing more than a social visit.
    Although he looked vaguely familiar—about Callie’s age and marginally