Ranger’s Last Call (EAGLE RIVER RANGER’S #1)

Chapter 1

Wyatt “Wolf” Maddox

The town of Eagle River didn’t look like salvation.

It looked like dust, peeling paint, and a second chance I wasn’t sure I deserved.

I stood on the cracked sidewalk with my duffel over my shoulder, staring up at the building my old Colonel had left us.

The Last Stand Tavern. The sign hung crooked, like even the wood had given up years ago.

A few empty beer bottles rested on the steps.

One rolled lazily in the wind, tapping my boot like it expected me to pick it up.

Behind me, my team filtered out of their vehicles one by one—Trigger stretching like he’d slept on a rock (he had), Havoc scowling like someone had personally offended him (someone probably had), and Saint carrying three of the guys’ bags because he didn’t know how to stop helping people.

We were a mess.

We were home, apparently.

“You sure this is the place?” Trigger asked, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Looks like it failed the health code inspection… in 1984.”

I grunted. “Welcome to Eagle River.”

He whistled low. “Small town charm is really hitting in the face.”

Small town chaos, more like.

A dog barked somewhere down the street.

A screen door slammed.

Wind chimes sang an eerie little tune even though the air was dead still.

And then—

“BOYS!”

The shout cracked like a whip.

We all turned as three older women in pastel cardigans and orthopedic shoes marched toward us, wielding pie tins like weapons. They moved in formation—frighteningly good formation. Trigger actually flinched.

“Oh hell,” Havoc muttered. “Incoming.”

“That’s them!” one of the women cried. “The Rangers! The new owners!”

Before any of us could react, they descended—hugging, patting, pinching cheeks, handing out baked goods. Trigger got kissed on both cheeks. Saint was offered a quilt. Havoc stood frozen as one of them lectured him about posture.

I was trying to disappear into the sidewalk when the smallest woman—white hair in a tight bun, eyes sharper than a sniper scope—zeroed in on me.

“You,” she said, pointing a pie at my chest. “You must be Wyatt Maddox.”

I stiffened. “Ma’am, yes ma’am.”

“Oh, he’s polite!” she crowed. “Girls, this one’s mine.”

Trigger snorted. Havoc elbowed me. Saint looked like he was trying not to cry-laugh.

The Magnolia Ladies—apparently their official title—fussed, flapped, advised, and then swept away as fast as they came.

Silence settled.

And that’s when I saw her.

Across the street, standing in the doorway of the Timberline Library, wearing a soft gray cardigan and clutching a stack of books to her chest like armor.

Brown hair pulled into a loose knot. Eyes wide, and the greenest green I’ve seen, she looked like she’d stumbled into a wildlife documentary and realized she was looking at a pack of wolves.

Nora Bennett.

The way she studied us—like she wanted to run but also couldn’t look away—hit something in my chest I didn’t know still worked.

Trigger followed my line of sight. “Well, damn. That’s a cute librarian.”

“Don’t,” I growled.

“Didn’t say anything,” he said, smirking.

But I didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

Her gaze slid to me—quiet, curious, a little startled.

A flicker of something passed between us.

Recognition?

Interest?

A warning?

Hell if I knew.

But I knew this:

The moment her eyes met mine, I wasn’t thinking about broken missions or burned-out soldiers or the bar we had to somehow resurrect.

I was thinking about her. I already knew her name. I made it my business to learn something about this town.

Nora.

The girl in the doorway who looked like soft quiet in a world full of noise.

She blinked, startled, then retreated inside the library like she’d been caught staring.

Trigger nudged me. “Should we go say hi?”

“No,” I said too fast.

He grinned. “Wolf’s growling again.”

But I couldn’t help it.

I watched the door she disappeared behind, and something deep in my chest tightened.

I wasn’t here for friends.

I wasn’t here for attachments.

And I sure as hell wasn’t here for a woman who looked like she belonged in the sun, not standing anywhere near a man like me.

But for the first time since I left the Army, I felt… awake.

And that scared me more than anything.