Serving Trouble (10 page)

 

Chapter Fourteen

J
OSIE KICKED THE
front passenger side tire of her broken-­down Mini. If her stupid car had waited until she arrived home to break down, she wouldn't be waiting for a blue Buick that looked like it belonged in a museum to pull into The Lost Kitten parking lot and save her.

It wasn't entirely the car's fault. She could have driven Noah's truck over here, flat out ignoring the fact that it felt wrong. They weren't a ­couple. She worked for him. And after last night, that's where she drew the line. Or she could have cancelled on Daphne. But this morning she'd needed a friend. After facing so much alone, it was a relief to have someone who knew her past and her present waiting just across the town line. And she couldn't have possibly known in grade school that she was picking a best friend who gave away a silicone penis over coffee.

She folded the brown paper bag closed over the tip of the vibrator as the Buick turned into the parking lot.

I should have called my dad and begged him to send a deputy. Or waited for Daphne to take a break and drive me home. But too late now.

Plus, she wanted to put their “talk” behind them. And then they could both focus on work. She had a hunch he wanted to deliver the same message she'd been searching for the strength to deliver.

Last night was great but. . .

“Thanks for driving out to get me,” she said as she slid into the passenger seat and fastened her seat belt. “I would have waited for Daphne to give me a ride, but right now I can't tell what I need more—­a shower or a sandwich.” Her stomach rumbled, driving home her point.

“Daphne didn't offer you food?” he asked, nodding to the bag.

“Or a shower, even though I probably have hay or something from your barn floor in my hair.”

Go ahead. Launch into your talk. Please say the words first.

“We haven't kept hay in the barn for years,” he said, guiding the old car through the turn. “So what's in the bag if it's not food?”

She studied his profile. He looked just as blond, scruffy, and serious as the day she'd first asked him for a job. Nothing like the man who'd insisted on holding her close last night
after
he came on her breasts.

“A gift from Daphne.” She reached into the bag and withdrew the vibrator. Noah glanced over. His eyes widened, and his brow furrowed.

“What the . . . ?”

He turned his attention back to the road and made the turn onto Main Street too fast and too sharp. The fake penis fell out of her hands and onto the floor.

“Daphne had some strong feelings about the way you left this morning,” she said as she reached forward to pick it up.

“I'm guessing she's not the only one.” He stole a quick glance at her. “This is only about this morning?”

“No one is insulting your skills. Trust me, you've made better use out of that mechanical bull than probably every rodeo-­riding cowboy in the West. And I'm guessing your equipment is better too.”

“Jesus, Josie—­”

“Though contrary to what half this town believes, I don't have a lot of basis for comparison,” she added.

“I'm sorry about this morning,” he said.

And this is the point where I tell you I'm sorry too, but I can't go back to the barn with you.

“If you put that thing away, we can grab a table at The Three Sisters while I explain everything.”

“You're buying?” she asked, silently cursing herself for not saying the words and pushing him away.

“Yeah.”

She reached for the vibrator at her feet and shoved the toy back into the bag. She didn't want it. But Noah?

I'm making a mess of things. I should tell him to drive me straight home. I can't do this.

“What did Caroline need?” she asked, as if that tidbit of information was her reason for following Noah into the café.

“I'll tell you while we eat,” he said grimly.

He docked the Buick in a parking space a half block from the café and the alley where he'd rushed to her rescue five years ago. This man and his hero routine. If only it didn't speak to her heart.

She followed him into The Three Sisters Café. She didn't say a word until they'd settled into a corner table set for two with brightly colored cloth napkins and mismatched silverware. Nothing in The Three Sisters matched. When they'd first opened, before Josie was born, the now ancient triplets had traveled from garage sale to yard sale to anywhere that sold cheap tables, chairs, and silverware. They'd gathered the items and opened a restaurant. Some of the pieces had price tags fixed on them and could be purchased after your meal—­if you wanted an old chair that never had a hope of being mistaken for an antique.

Noah rested his arms and started talking. He paused when the waitress appeared to take their order, but otherwise offered a detailed explanation of why Caroline had come knocking on the door. She'd listened while he explained about the photograph. She could connect the dots too. He didn't need to spell it out. The man who'd raped Caroline had followed her to Oregon. They couldn't prove it—­not without going to the police and exposing Caroline's unauthorized absence—­but their former leader was baiting them.

“Josie, I'm to blame.”

And judging from the pained expression on his face, he believed those words.

“You're not responsible for a madman's actions,” she said. Part of her was still surprised their we-­need-­to-­talk conversation didn't involve the words “last night can't happen again” or “it's not you, it's me.” Although, she still planned to deliver the line “it's not you
or
me, it's us barreling toward heartbreak.”

“But I brought him into your life,” Noah said flatly.

“Yes, but I'm the one who demanded a job at your bar,” she said. “And I plan to keep it.”

He nodded. “I can't make any promises. Not anymore. But I'll do my best to keep you safe. It will be easier if you're working at Big Buck's.”

“He's not after me, Noah.”

“Maybe not, but once he realizes you're . . . that we're . . . connected”—­Noah leaned back and ran his hands through his hair—­“I don't know what he'll do.”

“About our connection.” She twirled her fork in circles on the table. “Last night was great, but . . .”

“You'd rather have the toy Daphne gave you,” he said.

Yes. No. Maybe? A vibrator wouldn't send her spiraling into feelings she couldn't handle.

“I need to focus on paying my bills, Noah. I can't afford—­”

“Josie Fairmore,” Elvira called, following the waitress carrying their breakfast over to their table. “I didn't see you in church with your father this morning.”

“I wasn't there.” She accepted her plate, but didn't bother offering Elvira a smile or further explanation.

Elvira nodded to Noah as she took his plate from the young server. But she didn't set it down on the table. “This boy is working you too hard.”

“I'm just grateful to have a job,” Josie said as she picked up a piece of bacon and stared at the
man
across the table.

“I always thought you'd do better after going away to school.” Elvira still held Noah's plate as if still debating whether to serve him.

Josie looked up at the woman who won the award for the nosiest of the triplets. “You're probably not the only one in this town.”

“May I have my breakfast?” he asked.

“True,” the old woman said, ignoring Noah. “But I never thought it was your fault that you lost your undergarments to Travis Taylor. That boy couldn't manage to lead his team to the state championship. Not like Noah here.” She finally set the plate down in front of him.

“Noah doesn't like to talk about it,” Josie said firmly. “Not football or his time with the marines.”

N
OAH STARED ACROSS
the table. Ever since Caroline had shown him the picture, he'd been trying to figure out how the hell he'd keep Josie from getting stuck in the crossfire when Dustin attacked. If there was one thing in his life he wanted under his control it was Josie's safety. He refused to fail her.

But she'd turned the tables on him, jumping to his rescue over breakfast.

“Humph,” Elvira muttered, glancing at Noah and then back at Josie. “Enjoy your breakfast.” And then the nosy triplet walked away before asking if they needed anything to go with their bacon, eggs, and hash browns.

“Now about last night,” Josie said, careful to keep her voice low.

Ketchup. He wanted a bottle of Heinz and an escape from this conversation. And hell, while he was asking for things, he wanted Josie in his bed putting her new toy through its paces. Then he'd toss it aside and—­

“There's something about you,” she continued. “You kiss me and I feel myself falling for you.”

No, Josie. I'm not the guy you fall in love with, not then and not now.

“But I'm not ready. After everything . . . I need more time to put my life back together.”

“Yeah, the timing's off,” he said.
And I'm not sure I should be trusted with your love.

He'd just watched her rescue him from another pat on the back for his football days when he should have been the one jumping in. He should have told Elvira to shove it when she brought up church and Josie's panties.

But I want you.

Looking at her across the table, remembering how she looked last night pressed up against the bull . . . part of him didn't want to let the moment turn into another memory he carried with him for five freaking long years.

“But, Josie, the timing might always be off.”

“It might,” she admitted. “But—­”

“Relax and eat your eggs. I'm not asking for a demonstration of your new toy. Not on a Sunday.”

She picked up her fork. “You are a jerk.”

“I know.” She could call him anything she liked as long as she stayed safe.

He dropped his gaze to his plate. Somehow, he had to make that happen. He couldn't fail Josie. He couldn't rush to her rescue after the fact. Not like he did with Caroline. No, this time he had to have the upper hand from the beginning. No one would hurt Josie Fairmore again. That was one promise he planned to keep.

But none of that changed the fact that he wanted to see Josie test her vibrator.

Yeah, he was one helluva jerk.

 

Chapter Fifteen

T
HERE WAS A
mad marine on the loose, probably armed and sure as hell dangerous, and all Noah could think about was the sex toy in Josie's locker. But she was running scared from him instead of straight into his bed.

He shoveled ice into a pint glass with a ferocity that left the barely legal coed on the other side of the bar wide-­eyed.

“I can have a beer if a Bloody Mary is too much trouble,” the young woman said.

“No trouble.” He forced a smile and reached for the tomato juice mix he kept on hand for Sunday afternoons. The university crowd confused four in the afternoon with brunch time. “Plus we're out of the Hoppy Heaven,” he added.

“I love that beer,” she said and launched into a monologue about how she used to drive to Portland with her girlfriends to pick up four-­packs for their respective boyfriends.

“Here.” Noah thrust the Bloody Mary across the bar, cutting off the story. “I'll start a tab for you.”

The door to the back room swung open and he turned away from the chatty customer. Josh Summers emerged wearing jeans and a button-­down shirt that fit the description of dressed-­up logger.

Noah raised an eyebrow as the youngest Summers brother approached the bar. “When did you start using the back entrance?”

“Thought I'd avoid the crowds,” Josh said with a smile and a shrug.

“I have five paying customers, counting the vets drinking pop and swapping war stories at the end of the bar.”

Josh held up his hands in mock surrender. “You caught me. I was delivering a pie to your dishwasher.”

“She gave the last one to my dad,” he said, knowing “shared” might be a better description.

“Generous. I like that.” Josh claimed a stool in front of Noah and leaned forward, his forearms pressing against the wood. “You know she's carrying, right?”

“Yeah.” He'd unlocked Caroline's gun from the safe that morning. “Do you want something to drink?”

“Beer. Whatever you recommend. I don't need the fancy stuff.”

Noah nodded and turned to pour a pint.

“She told me that she has MST,” Josh said as Noah turned around and handed him the glass. “Military sexual trauma, right?”

Noah nodded, unsure what to say. He didn't think Caroline talked about what had happened. Hell, she'd never used the official term with him.

“I'm guessing that's why she went AWOL and someone's after her now?” Josh continued.

“It is,” Noah said. “And why you might want to reconsider your plans to bake a third pie.”

Josh looked down at his beer and shook his head. “It figures that when I decide I'm ready to settle down, to find what my brothers have, I'd fall for the one woman who's a long way from having so much as a conversation alone in a room with me.”

“And if she's arrested, Caroline might face time in a military jail,” Noah added.

“That would be a new spin on long-­distance.”

What the. . .

Noah rested his hands on the bar and leaned forward. “You're planning to ask her out?”

“No,” Josh said. “Right now, I want to be her friend. I know what it's like to work your way back from something you're not sure you can overcome. And hell, I've seen Lena struggle with her post-­traumatic stress.”

“This is different,” Noah cut in.

“Of course it is.” Josh met his gaze across the bar, his smile gone. “But I look at her and I see a beautiful, determined woman. I'm not going to walk away because it's hard to be her friend right now, and impossible to hope for more. Everyone has their problems, man. It's all about how they face them. Caroline did whatever it took to find you and warn you about whatever has her carrying a handgun while washing dirty pint glasses. I have to admire that.”

Noah nodded as the door to the back swung open a second time and Josie marched into the room. She'd faced a helluva lot and yet here she was, smiling at customers. She'd buried her child and still refused to give up on paying his bills. Guilt and pain had hit her hard. But she was fighting back. Dammit, he loved that about her.

Love?

A decent dose of “fuck me” settled on his shoulders, threatening to force him to the ground with his head between his legs so that he didn't hyperventilate. But he fought back. Of course he loved Josie. She was like family. One night in a barn—­shit, make that two nights now—­didn't lead to falling in love. Not that he was prepared to tackle that particular challenge right now, piled up onto everything else.

But maybe love didn't have to be a challenge.

And he sure as shit shouldn't use it as a reason to walk away from Josie, even if she was pushing him to the door. They'd been friends for too long. He wasn't about to give that up. Plus, he knew she was safe when she was serving up drinks in his bar.

“Plus, I like Caroline's girl-­next-­door freckles,” Josh continued, drawing Noah's attention back to the man sipping his beer across the bar. “They're cute. Not what you'd expect from a woman who enlisted in the marines.”

“She's tough,” Noah said, knowing her “cute” looks had attracted their CO too. He'd heard the guys talking about them.

“Yeah, I get that. She pulled her gun on me when I came in carrying a bourbon pecan pie.”

“She's on edge.” He should probably reconsider letting her have her weapon. Although he doubted that he stood a chance of getting it back now.

“Sounds like she has every reason to be. Then she smiled and put it away when she saw me. You know, I think she liked my pie. Even if she did give it to your dad.”

“She might,” he admitted, still watched Josie out of the corner of his eye. She laughed with the girl sipping on her Bloody Mary.

I should ask her if Caroline's pulled a gun on anyone else. I should find out if her dad plans to drop by, and make sure he uses the front entrance. I should tell her that I admire her. That I want her. That I know she's afraid of getting hurt. Shit, I'm scared I'll be the one to hurt her. But dammit, I want to help her face her fears. . .

He slapped his palm on the bar, silencing the voice in his head. “Hold on a sec.” Then he turned and walked to the ser­vice side of the bar. “Josie,” he called.

She glanced over her shoulder, then headed his way. The sway of her hips beneath her fitted black skirt drew his attention south. She'd paired the black mini with a pair of beat-­up Converse sneakers and the Big Buck's Country Bar T-­shirt he'd given her the first night. Her hair was still damp from her shower and pulled into a librarian's bun at the back of her head. She was an oddball mix of comfort and sexy as hell. She stopped on the other side of the wood access panel to the back of the bar.

He leaned forward and dropped his voice. “How about a dinner break when the rest of the staff arrives to man the bar? It's quiet today.”

Her brow furrowed. “Noah—­”

“If we pick something up to go, we could swing by the barn and check on the kittens. You're responsible for feeding them, remember?”

“I'm not going to forget about my kittens—­”

“Josephine,” a deep male voice called.

Aww hell. Noah closed his eyes. He'd know the chief of police's voice anywhere.

He blinked his eyes open and glanced over his shoulder. Josie's dad was off duty, judging from his jeans and worn flannel shirt. But Noah was still relieved he'd used the front door—­even if it cost him a dinner break in the barn with the man's daughter.

“J
OSEPHINE.”

The deep, male voice carried through the bar. She could count on one hand the number of ­people who used her full name, and they were both immediate family. She turned and spotted her father. She'd bumped into him earlier, when she'd stopped home to shower. He'd been busy watching golf, and looking like he was headed for a well-­deserved nap on his day off.

“Hi, Dad.” She met him halfway to the bar, before he moved closer to the door leading to the back room and the dishwasher determined to aim first and ask questions later.

“Stop in for a drink?” she asked, tearing the handwritten list of orders off her pad.

“Not tonight. I came to see you.”

“Oh?” Her hand clutched the torn slip of paper.

“Does your boss give you a dinner break?” He nodded toward Noah, who had turned away to pour a beer behind the bar but remained within earshot.

Only on the days when he wants to visit the barn.

“You bet, Chief Fairmore,” Noah called as he turned off the tap. He delivered the beer and returned to the middle of her bar, not far from her dad. “We're slow tonight, and I know you don't get much time off from keeping our town safe, so take your time. Enjoy dinner.”

“Thanks.” But her father moved closer to the bar instead of the door. She followed and slipped the drinks orders across the polished wooden surface to Noah, who glanced at them briefly before looking up at her dad.

“Have you heard from Dominic?” her father asked.

“He called the other night,” Noah said, but his expression didn't offer a hint of emotion.

“While he was stateside?” Her father spoke as if he were conducting an interrogation.

Did someone see us kissing in the parking lot and report back to my dad?

But then how would they know Dominic had called? And why would her father care about the fact that she'd messed around with her brother's friend, now her boss? She wasn't a teenager anymore. Plus, she made it clear she was a lost cause when it came to finding trouble.

“Yes,” Noah said.

“Oh.” One word and Forever's tough-­as-­nails police chief deflated like a balloon stabbed with a pin.

“Dad?” she said tentatively. A dreadful feeling simmered and threatened to shake the calm she'd struggled to maintain since Noah had left her in the barn. If something had happened to Dominic . . .

Her father shook his head. “He usually calls on Sunday mornings. I knew he was heading out this week. He never says where. Syria. Afghanistan. Africa. He's been all over the world. But he always gives me a heads-­up if he won't be able to call.”

Noah frowned. “I'll shoot him a message while you're out. I doubt he'll respond, but I can try. If you're worried, I can email Ryan too.”

Josie's hope rose. Ryan was the third member of their trio from high school and the years following. Of course, he'd keep tabs on Dominic too.

“I hadn't thought of that,” her dad said. “How's he doing? I haven't run into his father in a while.”

“Ryan's making the most of what the air force has to offer. And with their budget, that's a helluva lot. I swear he joined just to play with their toys.” Noah reached for a pint glass to fill the order she'd passed to him. “Different branches and all, but Ryan talks shop with Dominic.”

Her father smiled, but it appeared strained. “I'm sure the air force has a lot of toys, but not much beats the army rangers.”

Navy SEALs. They probably had one up on the rangers. But she wasn't about to stomp on her dad's pride. His son was a ranger. He'd completed a training program most guys failed. She couldn't recall the exact pass/fail rate, but she bet her dad knew. And he'd probably told the entire police force.

“Let's go, Dad. Before the dinner hour is up,” she said, hoping she could keep his mind off Dominic for a little while. Her brother would be fine. He had to be OK. If he wasn't . . . how much loss could one person take?