Serving Trouble (11 page)

 

Chapter Sixteen

“I
HEAR YOU'RE
a local hero.”

Josie dropped her breadstick and looked up at her dad. Hero? Her? She glanced around the mostly empty mediocre Italian restaurant, the only establishment aside from The Three Sisters that didn't cater to the university students.

“For bringing in that special beer?” her father added, his brow furrowed as if he was trying to focus on small talk instead of thinking about Dominic.

She let out a laugh. “That's right. I'm the local beer hero.”

“Glad you're putting that marketing degree to good use,” he said, reaching for his water.

“I didn't finish my degree, Dad.”

The waitress arrived and took their orders. Josie took her time ordering a house salad and personal pizza, hoping her father would drop the subject of school.

“You could always go back,” her dad said as the waitress walked away.

“I could,” she admitted.
But first I have to pay seventy thousand dollars in medical expenses I never told you about. . .

“Or take classes at the community college to finish up your degree. That way you could live at home.”

“And you could keep an eye on me?” she said, reaching for her water.

The town's chief of police offered a rare smile. “I like having you home, Josie. You still haven't told me why you came back, but I'm glad you did.”

“Me too, Dad.”

“And I wouldn't mind some help with the mowing,” her dad added gruffly. “Maybe you could do some work in the old vegetable garden. It hasn't been weeded much since you ran off to college.”

But Dominic was the gardener.

No, she couldn't say his name. Not right now.

“I can try, Dad. But if the tomatoes go on strike like they did the last time you put me in charge, well, remember you asked for my ‘help.' ”

Her father leaned his head back and laughed. “I'll tackle the tomatoes if you handle the beans. I never liked them much anyway.”

She smiled as the waitress set down their salads. “Deal.”

Maybe she could salvage this relationship. After everything she'd been through, maybe she could find a place here, at home.

B
Y MIDNIGHT, DINNER
with her father felt like a distant memory. Big Buck's didn't have a DJ on Sunday nights, but the place had filled up with patrons hoping for a pint of Hoppy Heaven. Josie had served up a tray full of disappointment all night long. The tips were dismal.

The local beer hero, my ass.

She set two bottles of light beer in front of the dudes in the corner booth and walked away before they could complain about the empty keg. She didn't want to hear about how she'd let them down when it came to their drink of choice. She stomped back to the bar to pick up the next round.

Who wanted to claim the “beer hero” title anyway? It didn't have the same ring as Noah's claim to fame. “Football star” or “veteran warrior”—­those labels deserved respect. Noah had done something brave, something to be proud of—­he'd served.

But apart from the deal with the brewery, what had she accomplished? She'd survived the loss of a child she wasn't supposed to have in the first place. She'd lived through asshole boyfriends and grief.

No, it was better to stick with her Hoppy Heaven claim to local fame. Everything else she'd “accomplished” stemmed from bad decisions.

Joining the army, the marines—­those were solid, good choices.

Selfless.

Brave.

Although it hadn't exactly worked out that way for Caroline. She'd survived her own assholes and grief.

At least the jerks from my past haven't driven me to carry a gun.

Josie stopped in the middle of the crowded bar. ­People moved around her, talking and drinking. Was that the upside here? She'd come so far, pulling herself out of a grief that threatened to eat her alive, and the only bright side was that she didn't have to carry a weapon?

“The cows are home for the night, folks,” Noah announced, his voice cutting through the crowd.

“Hey, what about last call?” one of the dudes in the booth called.

“Finish up what you have and head out,” Noah said, his gaze landing on Josie. “We're done for the night.”

She lowered her chin and focused on her worn Converse sneakers. He was jumping to her rescue. Had he caught the college kids staring at her as if she'd broken their hearts by not having their favorite beer available tonight? Or had he heard from Dominic? Maybe Ryan had responded with bad news?

Her head swam with what-­ifs and she headed for the bar.

“What's wrong with your cows?” another man called. “It's not even one in the morning.”

“On a Sunday,” Noah muttered. But then he raised his voice and called out, “Sorry. The dishwasher is broken.”

Caroline. He's rushing to her rescue tonight.

“Oh, Noah,” she murmured, her voice too low to be heard over the grumbling customers. “You can't save everyone.”

Just like she couldn't keep stumbling into heartbreak and then putting herself back together.

One day I'll just be broken.

No, she needed to steer clear of another night in the barn with Noah. Even if it meant begging him to feed and water the kittens for her. And she should probably leave her new toy in her locker. She didn't even want to risk closing her eyes and dreaming about him while alone in her bedroom with a silicone penis.

“Josie, I'm going to run Caroline home,” he said as he slipped out from behind the bar. He paused and glanced back at her. “Are you OK to stay and help close up? I'll come back for you after I drop her off.”

She nodded and met him by the door to the back room. Keeping her voice low, she whispered, “Did something happen?”

“Our dishwasher aimed at a raccoon by the Dumpster when she took the trash out,” he said wearily. “She's on edge and armed. I need to get her out of here before she does something stupid.” He ran his hand through his short blond hair. “And hell, maybe I should start paying her not to clean the dishes or set foot anywhere near the bar.”

“But then how would you keep an eye on both of us?” She hoped to make him laugh, or even smile. But he just shook his head and put on his doom-­and-­gloom expression.

“I don't know, Josie,” he said. “I don't know.”

“N
OAH, BEFORE
I
get in your truck, I think you should know . . .” Josie paused midspeech and drew a deep breath. She stood with one hand on the open truck door and the other on her hip. The bar was at her back, dark and locked up for the night.

What now?

What more could he possibly add to his middle-­of-­the-­night to-­do list? He needed to send another message to Dominic because the first one hadn't led to an A-­OK response, and Chief Fairmore had looked pretty damn worried. Then he planned to search the woods around his childhood home for his former commanding officer. And shit, someone needed to feed and water the fucking kittens. All that before falling dead asleep for a few hours, getting up and opening the damn bar again.

“I left the vibrator in my locker,” she said, her tone practically daring him to demand that she march back into Big Buck's and get it. Because tonight was the perfect night to say “screw you” to the ­people he needed to help and focus on sexual fantasies and orgasms.

He eyed Josie. Beauty and determination were one hell of a turn-­on. It might not be such a bad idea. After all, who was he to play the hero?

“Josephine Fairmore, get in the damn car. I'm not leaving you alone in a parking lot beside your broken-­down car just because you don't want to share your toys. I was planning to take you back to your dad's place anyway.”

Because I really need to get started on my list.

“Turning in early?” she challenged in a voice that said
I wasn't born yesterday
. She climbed into the truck and secured her seat belt.

“No.” He pulled out of the parking lot and headed for the main road while he filled her in on his plans for the remaining hours before sunrise.

“You're really worried about Dominic?” she asked softly when he'd finished.

“I think your brother can take care of himself. But I don't like seeing your father worried. And right now, I can't have Forever's chief of police dropping into the bar and asking questions. If Caroline had pulled the trigger on that raccoon, if everyone in the bar heard a gunshot tonight? The police would be everywhere. And she'd be headed for a jail cell.”

They rode in silence for a few minutes, passing through Forever's dark and quiet downtown.

“Did you take away her gun again?” she asked.

“Yes.” He accelerated as they reached the town limits. “I hadn't realized how close to the edge she was. But the stress has done a number on her. She's more likely to get herself hurt, hit an innocent bystander, or even you. And I can't let that happen.”

“I'm glad you took away her gun,” Josie said slowly as he turned down her driveway.

He fought the urge to press on the gas and fly over the gravel to her house, kick her out of the truck, and speed away. If he didn't get her out of here soon, he might reach for her.

“And I appreciate your desire to keep me safe,” she added. “But I can take care of myself, Noah. I've been doing it for the past five years.”

He put the truck in park in front of her house and turned to her. She'd said those words as if she was still trying to convince herself. And he knew a helluva lot about that.

“You're wrong, Josie. If I don't take care of you, who the hell is going to look out for me? Who is going to bring me back to reality when I see a box and think it's a bomb?”

Her eyes widened and she lifted her hand to his cheek. Her palm brushed against his stubble. Shaving hadn't come close to making his to-­do list.

“Noah—­”

“Last night, you took me away from all the bullshit,” he said, looking straight into her green eyes. “You gave me a break from wondering how the hell I'm going to keep from letting ­people down when they need me. How I'm going to maintain control . . .”

“But I don't need you,” she said softly.

“Are you sure about that?” He lifted his hands and cupped the sides of her face. Yeah, she was running scared. But he didn't want to let her go. “Because I think we could take care of each other.”

“Noah, what are you asking for?” she demanded.

“You,” he said firmly.

He leaned across the center console and pressed his lips to hers. He fought his way in, kissing her deeply, needing her to feel how much he wanted to escape into that place where he could fulfill her desires—­no doubts, no questions.

Her fingers pressed into his cheek and her other hand touched his thigh.
Higher. More. Don't let go.

He groaned. His tongue touched hers, his lips took more. Her fingers dug into the muscles as her palm ran higher and higher on his leg.

This wasn't the time or the place. Hell, her father was inside. They weren't kids, or anywhere close to it. But still—­

She broke the kiss, drawing back and taking her hand off his thigh. But she didn't release his cheek.

“Noah.” She said his name as if it was important that he was the man in the truck kissing her. But when he stared into her eyes he saw the hint of panic. “You can't have me. I'm not . . . That's not what I'm . . . I came home to find a job. Yes, you look even better than you did five years ago. And yes, I asked you to break the rules. But I'm not ready. After last night . . .” She drew her lower lip into her mouth, her brow furrowed, then added, “I just can't. Not yet.”

Everyone had problems. Josh was right about that. And Noah wanted to take on Josie's. Not the bills and the need for cash. Those were tangible and could be fixed over time. But the loss and the heartbreak? The feeling that she had to face the world alone without turning to anyone? He wanted to shoulder those problems.

Because then maybe she'd take on his.

“Just don't push me away,” he said. “I can be your friend.”

Her eyes narrowed and she released her hold on his cheek. “Just friends? No naked bull rides?”

“No naked anything if that's what you want,” he said.

She folded her arms across her chest and gave him a look that called bullshit. “Just friends who rush in and save each other? Who wait for the carrier pigeon to deliver a cry for help?”

He nodded. “I want you in my life, Josie. Because I'm waking up to the fact that it sucks to face the world alone.”

J
OSIE STARED AT
Noah, her fingers reaching for the door. The teasing, the flirting, the little game they were playing, pretending they could fool around without heading for something serious—­it was all over.

“I think it's easier,” she said, “if fewer ­people know about your troubles. There's less judgment that way. Plus, going it alone has worked for me.”

“Some ­people help.” His gazed darted to her hand and then back to her face. “Without judging.”

“You don't understand,” she ground out. “What you did? Going to war? ­People feel bad about themselves if they judge you. But me? I wasn't supposed to have a baby. How am I expected to make them see him as a person? Morgan was just over a pound, and I only got to hold him once, but he was my little boy.”

“Josie, you're not to blame for what happened,” he said.

“Whose fault is it then?” she shot back, releasing her grip on the door and turning to face him. “The doctors and nurses did everything they could.”

“It's not yours,” he insisted.

His hands wrapped around her shoulders, his grip solid and firm as if he'd never let her go. He pulled her close into a hug. And tears threatened. With his arms around her, his lips pressed against her ear, murmuring comforting reassurances . . . oh dammit, she'd proven his point. She wanted this. Him. If only . . .