Serving Trouble (17 page)

She shook her head. “You're determined to be the hero, aren't you?”

“When it comes to your safety? Yeah, I'll play the part. You name the day, the time, the place—­I'll be there to help you, Josie.”

“Fine.” She placed her hands on her hips and held her head high despite the red marks on her cheek and neck that clearly labeled her a victim. “The day? Today. The time? Right now. The place? Forever, Oregon. And your mission, Mr. White Knight? Drive me home and help me sneak back into my house.”

Josie walked past him, her nose practically pointed to the clouds. The swing in her step drew his gaze to her perfect ass. He shouldn't look. But dammit, one glance and he didn't want to be the hero who snuck her back into her bedroom. He wanted to be the man who broke her out and showed her that relationships should never come with violence.

 

Chapter Two

F
OREVER HATED
HER
with a vengeance. From the ­people to the distant mountain range, everything about this town seemed to be working against her. She was smart, dammit. Heading to college on a full scholarship. And still, this place was determined to land her in one mess after another.

Josie stared out the window of Noah's pickup. The main street faded into the distance as the truck sped toward the college. Beyond the sprawling campus with its odd mix of concrete structures and old brick buildings stood her family home, empty apart from the dogs.

Except her dad's four-­legged friends weren't supposed to be alone. Her father had grounded her for breaking curfew last weekend. And she'd ignored him because at eighteen, she believed the time for “be home by midnight, young lady” was behind her.

They drove past the edge of the campus and the landscape changed. Houses and barns dotted the rolling green hills. In a few weeks, she'd trade the wide-­open space for Portland's downtown. She'd be free to set her own curfew. And free from boys who responded to a firm “it's over” by wrapping their hands around her neck.

She stole a glance at the man who'd sent her cowardly ex running away. Noah was living, breathing proof that fate refused to do her any favors. She could have handled Travis on her own. Her father was a police officer. Under her picture in her senior yearbook, it should have read “most likely to bring a man to his knees with a well-­placed kick.” Of course, her classmates had left off the kicking part when drafting the yearbook. And she'd ended up with “most likely to lose her underwear.”

But the Forever High senior class's lack of faith in her abilities didn't change the fact that she could take on her ex-­boyfriend. Travis might be a hundred pounds heavier, and armed with a supersized temper, but she'd learned self-­defense from the best cops in the Willamette Valley.

She didn't need Noah's help. And pity? If he tried to “poor baby” her, she'd either burst into tears or jump out of the moving truck. Probably the latter. Because the thought of crying in front of the man who walked into her daydreams and declared,
Josephine Fairmore, I've loved you for years
—­she would rather take her chances on the side of the road.

She stole another glance at Noah. He'd cut his blond hair short as if he wanted to show up ready to be one of The Few . . . The Brave . . . or whatever the marine motto was, the minute he arrived for basic training. And judging by the size of his look-­at-­me biceps, he'd also been lifting more than pint glasses behind his dad's bar.

She pressed her lips together, hating the visual reminder that he was leaving and might never come back. But Noah would be the perfect soldier. He'd carry honor, courage, and that too-­perfect body onto the battlefield. As long as he survived, he'd come home a hero.

A man like Noah would never declare his undying love for his best friend's troublesome sister. No, he would run to her rescue in an alley and end their practically nonexistent relationship on the perfect note. On the bright and sunny side, he hadn't said the dreaded words—­

“Josie, I have to ask.” He slowed the truck as they approached her driveway. “Is this the first time?”

Hello, Mr. Rain Cloud.

They drove over the gravel in silence. But when they reached the parking area in front of her home, he threw the truck in park and turned to face her. “Please, Josie. Not knowing . . . it's killing me.”

Killing
him
? As soon as she gave him an answer—­truth or fiction—­it would color the way he saw her. But after today that ship had probably set sail. She would always be someone who needed rescuing in his eyes. The victim. And wasn't that a great label to wear in front of the man of your dreams.

They're called dreams for a reason, aren't they? They're not supposed to come true.

“Once. And I dealt with it.” She reached for the door.

He shook his head. “Travis didn't get the message.”

“He's played football practically since he could walk. After all those hits, it sometimes takes him a while to understand things.” Her fingers froze on the door handle. “Not that all football players are stupid. I mean, you're not stupid.”

And now the chances that you'll profess your undying love and steal a kiss before leaving are solidly lodged in never-­going-­to-­happen land.

“I can be,” he said, offering a half smile that quickly faded. “But I'd never hit a girl—­or woman.”

“And which one am I?” she challenged.

The corners of his lips turned up. It was amazing how easily his expression slipped into warm and welcoming mode. He'd been all doom and gloom when he'd rushed into the alley, but that wasn't Noah's default.

He upped the smile-­wattage and gave her a full-­blown grin. Was he aware of how inviting he appeared? His smile said
come closer and I'll show you
 . . .

“How about we get you back into your bedroom so I can have a chat with Travis before work tonight?” He turned away from her and slid his superman-­sized muscles out of the truck.

“I don't need your help,” she said sharply as she slipped out of the passenger seat and slammed the truck door behind her. “I'm not your problem. Go home and work on your biceps.”

His eyes widened as if referencing any part of his body crossed an imaginary line drawn in her dad's gravel driveway. Then he laughed and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Is that what you think I do in my spare time?”

“Long days away from the bar at some mystery location . . .” She turned and headed for the back of the house. Her dad had taken her keys—­house and car—­when he'd grounded her, as if having a way back in and a vehicle were the only things keeping her from sneaking out. In a few weeks, she was heading to a school she'd fought her way into, one perfect grade at a time. She could find a way into town. And she knew how to phone a friend.

Of course, calling Travis for a ride and “conversation” didn't exactly highlight her intelligence.

“My brother thinks you're seeing someone,” she added as they reached the back door.

“I'm not. Not that it's Dominic's business, or yours, but I've been taking my grandmother to the coast,” he said, raising his right arm and placing his hand against the back of his neck. “She likes to see the ocean.”

Wow. Could he stand any taller on the pedestal of perfection?
He spent his downtime taking his eighty-­something-­year-­old grandmother, who'd raised him alongside his dad, to the beach.

Perfect and single. She filed that fact away. Not that it mattered. They were both leaving soon. And she didn't plan on coming back to this town that seemed determined to ruin her.

“So how are you getting back in?” He lowered his arm and nodded to the house. “Need a boost in through a window?”

“Nah, I was using you for a ride. I left the back door to the kitchen unlocked and the dogs on guard.” She climbed the steps to the wooden deck her father had built ten or so years ago with her big brother's help. Noah followed, avoiding the loose board no one had gotten around to fixing. He'd spent half his childhood and the years since his graduation at her house. Two guys, both raised by single dads who'd lost their wives suddenly—­Noah's to a car crash, and hers and Dominic's to a sudden heart attack spurred by an underlying condition.

She'd been five when her mom died. And it had taken her a while to realize she wasn't going to follow a similar path. Her father had tried to explain it wasn't a genetic condition, but she'd been too young to comprehend how the person who'd cared for her around the clock just wasn't there anymore. By high school, she'd had a better understanding of genetics.

His brow furrowed. “Sure you're OK?”

No. Maybe. Yes? I'm just sad about the things I can't change. And how the ones I tried to fix turned out. . .

“I'll be fine.” She turned the knob and opened the back door. “I'll see you around, Noah.”

She stepped inside the white and blue farmhouse kitchen and closed the door. Forever's Golden Boy remained on the other side. She leaned against the solid wood, her hand still on the knob, and closed her eyes. Tears rolled down her cheeks. And she let herself feel . . . the lingering sting of Travis's palm against her face, the scratches around her neck.

Goddamn him!

She let out a sob. Just thinking about that moment—­the panic, the need for a strength she didn't have—­she never wanted to land in that place again. And if Noah hadn't rushed to her rescue . . .

She would still be standing in the alley, terrified. It was one thing to knee Travis in the balls, but she had a feeling it wouldn't have ended there. Discovery, Noah rushing to her rescue, had sent her now ex-­boyfriend running. And even if her well-­placed self-­defense had pushed him away, it wouldn't change the fact that she'd placed herself in that situation. She'd snuck out of the house with that face-­slapping ass. She'd planned to tell him it was over. But she should have known her boyfriend of almost a year wouldn't take it well. She'd witnessed his temper before.

So when it came to needing a rescue? That was on her.

“How did I land in this mess?” she whispered to the empty kitchen. But she already knew the answer. She hadn't been strong enough to turn her back on the promise of acceptance and popularity. If she dated the quarterback, if she stayed with Travis after half the town caught her in the back of the hay wagon, if she proved to everyone that they were “in love,” not teenage lust, then maybe her family and everyone else in this town would see that she was more than a girl who made bad decisions. She could prove to everyone here that she was strong enough to endure the pointed looks and whispered comments.

But maybe, when it came to Forever, she should cut her losses and start fresh in Portland.

She raised her hands to her face and wiped away the tears. She would earn a degree in business management, start her own company, or take over someone else's and run it better. She'd find a man who liked what he saw when he looked at her. A man who offered kindness. And if he happened to be blond, with a warm smile, and perfect biceps . . .

No. Not Noah. She couldn't have him.

“Dominic would kill me, and Noah too,” she muttered as she pushed off the door and headed for the stairs. Even if her brother's friend showed up on her doorstep and admitted he had a crush on her, he was still out of her reach—­too perfect, too determined to do the right thing.

 

Chapter Three

July 2012

N
OAH RAISED HIS
Smith & Wesson and waited for the range safety officer to give the all clear. He stared at the target in the distance. Ten shots. He could place every one in the center. But he didn't want to shoot at a damn piece of paper. He wished like hell he could fire holes through his reasons for leaving Forever.

With one well-­placed bullet, he wanted to blow away his family's financial problems. And yeah, he'd put a hole through his dad's reasons to keep Big Buck's a country western bar.

For two generations loggers have visited this bar. They come here after a long, shitty day and pretend they have what it takes to be a cowboy. For eight seconds after work, these guys are stars.

Except more and more had been landing on their asses before the buzzer. And they hadn't come back for more. There were too many “kids” from the university in the area. Housing prices had gone up and the loggers had moved to Independence Falls and some of the other neighboring towns.

Noah knew they'd make more if they took out the mechanical bull and changed the place into a nightclub. Sure, the remaining locals who kept Forever's Main Street looking like a picture-­perfect, all-­American town might protest. But the students would flock to the place. And the twenty-­something university crowd didn't sit at the bar nursing one beer all night. They drank mixed drinks and shots.

“Fire!” the volunteer safety officer called.

He pressed the trigger. Once. Twice. The bullets spiraled to the target. In a few weeks, maybe months, he wouldn't be shooting at stationary pieces of paper. If he deployed . . .

Shit.
He lowered his weapon. Not if.
When
he deployed to one of the countries no one in their right mind put on their list of dream vacation spots, he'd shoot to defend, to protect, and to kill.

Noah set his gun on the table. He moved through the motions, releasing the clip, racking the slide, and ejecting the round from the chamber. He set the piece and the ammunition down. Then he stepped back from the line, vaguely aware of the ­people moving around him. The range safety officer had called out “cease fire” and he'd been so caught up in the future, the what might happen when he left, that he'd missed it.

He stared down the range and out into the rolling hills lined with evergreens.
So damn beautiful.
He wished he could stay in the Willamette Valley, surrounded by the familiar scenery and the ­people he loved. But someone needed to make enough to pay for his grandmother's retirement. And her rising medical costs.

“Noah!” a familiar voice barked.

He turned away from the hills in the distance and focused on the two men standing just beyond the line in his bay.

“Take off your ears,” Dominic hollered, raising his right hand to his ear.

Noah pulled off the safety gear that blocked out a helluva lot, including Josie's brother.

“Hey,” Noah said, nodding to the man who was unmistakably related to Josie. He had the same dark hair and green eyes. Although the similarities stopped there. Dominic had played center for the Forever football team. He was built like a tank and stood an inch or two taller than Noah. He was going to make one helluva soldier. Plus, Josie's brother had been itching to enlist since graduation. His father had tried to steer him toward the police academy, but after a few years of working with his dad, Dominic wanted more of a challenge.

And Noah wanted to stay right here and shoot at fucking paper.

“You didn't hear a word we said, did you?” Ryan smiled, looking more like a movie star type than a football hero—­probably because he'd rarely taken the field as the backup kicker. And Ryan sure as shit didn't look like a future air force pilot.

Noah forced a grin. “Had my ears on.”

“I said I bet Travis is glad you went after him with your fists,” Dominic informed him. “Not your pistol.”

“Yeah.” Noah shoved his hands in his pockets, his knuckles still raw from sparring with Travis Taylor. He'd had the upper hand. He'd approached the kid angry and knowing he planned to land a hit or two. Sure, he'd waited two weeks, giving Josie's face time to heal so that no one would connect the pieces.

“Any reason you hit my sister's boyfriend?” Dominic asked mildly.

“Ex-­boyfriend,” Noah corrected. He turned to the table to pick up his gear.

Dominic held out a hand to help. “They've broken up before and gotten back together.”

“They won't this time.” Noah shook his head, declining his friend's helping hand, and headed for the viewing gallery.

“Why?” Dominic demanded, abandoning his easy-­going tone. “What the fuck happened?”

“Ask your sister,” Noah said. “But our fight—­”

“That wasn't a fight,” Ryan jumped in once they were alone in the small room designed for spectators. A bulletproof glass window separated the space from the range where the other shooters were heading back to the line.

“You took Travis out, man,” Ryan continued. “At least that's what I heard.”

“He pissed me off.” Noah shrugged and headed for the gun case he'd stashed in the corner with his duffel. “And it wasn't all about Josie.”

I wanted to make sure the kid thinks twice before hurting another woman. I wanted Travis to remember how his damn nose felt when I landed that hit.

“Some kid pisses you off and you swing?” Dominic said from behind him. “Why didn't you drive your temper over here, to the shooting range?”

“I did,” he admitted, closing his case.
Afterward.
He picked up his stuff and turned around, ready to get the hell away from here.

“She won't tell me anything,” Dominic said, and he moved closer, blocking Noah's path to the door.

Noah stared at his friend and saw the same determination that had radiated from Josie the other night. “Look, it's not my story to tell. But I'll say this. That asshole Travis doesn't deserve her and he won't go near her again.”

His best friend since damn near forever stared back at him as if waiting for Noah to crack and spill more about what had led to Travis Taylor's broken nose.

Noah just held his gaze.

Finally, Dominic took a step back. “Thanks for looking out for her. I wish you'd tell me what went down . . .”

Noah shook his head.

“But,” Dominic continued, his face breaking into a rare smile, “as long as you're taking on the big brother role—­”

“I'm not . . .” But he couldn't finish the sentence. Because when it came to Josie, he wasn't about to tell Dominic he'd ever considered another role.

“Hey, now.” His friend held up his hands. “You're not encroaching. I've looked out for her crazy ass long enough. You're welcome to take a turn. Though I should warn you that if you break any more noses my dad might get suspicious. I'm not part of the force anymore, so I can't bring you in for questioning and all.”

“I'm not going to start another fight.” Noah tried to move toward the door, but Dominic sidestepped and blocked his path.

“Where are you heading in such a hurry?” Dominic asked. He wasn't threatening now, he was teasing. “Beach date with your grandmother?”

Ryan laughed and Noah shook his head. “So Josie told you that much, huh?”

“Yeah,” his friend said. “And I figured that as long as you were feeling like a big brother and all, you could take Josie with you.”

“What?” There was no way in hell he wanted to spend an hour in a car with his gran and a woman—­yeah, he considered Josie all woman now—­who defined indecent thoughts. What would they talk about? The time Gran tried to potty train him and he'd peed all over the house? That was her favorite embarrassing childhood tale. Or maybe how he'd saved Josie from her abusive boyfriend?

“My dad's working today, but I'm free. And Lily's done teaching for the summer so we thought we'd spend the afternoon together, seeing as I'm leaving soon and all.”

“You want Josie out of the house so you and your girlfriend can make some noise,” Noah said, filling in the blanks. “Why don't you just ask her to leave?”

“She's still grounded,” Ryan supplied. And judging from his grin, he found it pretty damn funny that Noah was getting stuck with watching wild, little Josie Fairmore.

Only she wasn't little anymore. And he wasn't sure the “wild” label fit either. Not in a break-­all-­the-­rules context. But maybe . . .

Don't go there.

“She begged to come to the going away party tomorrow night at your place,” Dominic explained. “Dad refused the first dozen or so times she asked, seeing as there will be alcohol served. He's a stickler about the legal age thing. Then he changed his mind. As long as I keep an eye on her. At the party and every minute leading up to it.”

“You agreed to babysit?” Noah asked.

“She's eighteen,” Dominic said. “She doesn't need a babysitter. But if she gets into trouble, she can't come to the party. I don't want her sitting at home alone on my last night in town.”

“Take Lily someplace else,” Noah said. “Problem solved.”

Dominic shook his head. “Her mom is retired and home all the time. And you know her parents don't want her to move out and get her own place until she's freaking married.”

“Fine.” They only had forty-­eight hours until they reported for basic training. And he knew they all wanted to make the most of their time. “But why doesn't Ryan take Josie?”

“I promised Helena I'd give her a hand with her farm chores so we can grab a bite tonight,” Ryan said. The next, great air force pilot was tight with him and Dom, but Helena was his closest friend in Forever. They'd never crossed the line into naked friends—­and probably never would—­but she likely topped the list of ­people Ryan would think about while he learned to fly fighter jets.

Noah looked at Dominic. “Tell Josie I'll pick her up in an hour.”

And remember you asked for this.

J
OSIE SLIPPED O
FF
her sneakers and sank her toes in the sand. Sandals would have been a better choice, but Dominic hadn't given her much time to get ready. He'd stormed into the house, told her she was going to the coast for the afternoon, and if she tried to stay he'd tell Dad not to let her go to the party. She'd run to change out of her sweats and into jean shorts, a V-­neck T-­shirt, and the first shoes she could find.

“I've always loved the feel of sand between my toes,” Noah's grandmother said as she settled into the beach chair he'd set out for her. “Noah thinks I come for the chowder, but I just like to hear the sound of the ocean and feel the sand between my toes.”

“You've got it wrong, Gran.” Noah lowered to one knee beside his grandmother's feet. He gently lifted one foot and slipped off her orthopedic shoe and then the other. “I drive out here for the chowder. The ocean and the company are a bonus.”

His grandmother laughed, then leaned her head back and closed her eyes. “Why don't you two take a walk, enjoy the beach, while I rest and listen to the waves?”

Noah stood. “We'll be nearby.”

“Don't stay too close,” she muttered to her grandson, eyes still closed. “I'm serious about my nap.”

“I know,” Noah said, shaking his head. “I know.”

Leaving her shoes near the beach chair, Josie headed for the packed sand by the water. The tides were out and the beach was quiet for a Friday afternoon. Noah moved to her side and easily matched her pace.

“I should probably thank you for breaking Travis's nose, but—­”

“You're welcome.”

She glanced up from the sand and caught him smiling. “
But
, I wish I'd been able to do it myself.”

“I like playing the hero, Josie,” he said, placing a hand on her elbow and guiding her up the beach, away from the wave rushing in.

So much for low tide and taking care of myself.

“Is that why you're joining the marines?” she asked.

“No.” He stopped and turned to look out at the ocean.

“Then why go? I know Dominic has been thinking about it for a while. Have you?”

He glanced in his grandmother's direction. “We're out of earshot. Want to sit down?”

No, she didn't want sand in her shorts. But she wasn't going to pass up a chance to sit next to Noah and stare out at the waves. What were the odds she'd ever find herself alone with him again in a place like this? It was like a scene in a romantic movie—­except for the sleeping grandmother.

She settled onto the ground, burying her toes in the sand again. Her arms wrapped around her legs.

“With the marines, I'll get a guaranteed paycheck and benefits,” he said, lowering onto the beach beside her.

“You could find that here. I mean, you have a job at your dad's bar.”

“Big Buck's Country Bar isn't making enough to support three ­people,” he said. “It might turn around now that I've convinced my dad to take out the mechanical bull. But a new sound system would help. Some DJs. A bigger dance floor.”

“Wait, you took out the bull? I never had a chance to ride it.”

“It's in my barn if you want to try it out,” he said with a laugh. “Dad set it up as if ­people might come out and visit the damn thing.”

“They might.”
I might if you'll watch me ride it.

But she wasn't exactly cowgirl material. She'd never owned farm animals. Still, she had the boots in her closet . . .

“They're welcome to the bull as long as it stays in the barn.” He looked down at the sand. “I'm planning to send home as much of my paycheck as I can spare. That should help with my grandmother's expenses and cover the new sound system.”