Serving Trouble (18 page)

“That's sweet,” she murmured.

“It's reality,” he said. “I can make more and hopefully do some good.”

“Are you scared?” The question slipped out. “Sorry. I've been watching Dominic and wondering . . . but he doesn't act afraid.”

“I'm not sure he is.” He drew circles in the sand with his toes, not looking up at her. “But yeah, I'm scared. There are aspects of fighting, going out there with a loaded weapon . . .”

“You're a great shot.” That fact gave her some comfort.

“Yeah, but this will be different.” He looked up at her, his expression open, honest, and so vulnerable it made her heart ache.

“I don't want to let my team, the guys I'm serving with—­I don't want to let them down,” he continued. “Not out there, in places where it counts a helluva lot more than on the football field.”

“You won't.” And oh God, she wanted to wrap her arms around his supersized muscles and hold him tight.

“I hope you're right.”

“I am.” She reached out and placed her hand on his arm. “I mean, listen to yourself. Even your fears are perfect.”

“I'm not perfect, Josie.” His voice had shifted, the sound low, rough, and so unlike him. “If I was . . . shit.”

He stared at her hand and then lifted his gaze to her lips. And she silently prayed her facial expression didn't scream
please, please, please, do it! Kiss me!

But then he looked away and pulled his arm free from her touch. He stood and held out his hand to help her up. “We should get back.”

But she didn't trust herself to touch him. Not when she still wanted a Noah Tager kiss more than anything this world had to offer her.

He lowered his outstretched arm as she pushed herself off the sand, dusting off her butt. There was sand in her shorts. But it had been worth it.

“I don't want your brother thinking I kept you out too long,” he said. “He might make it difficult for you to go to the party.”

“I'll be there,” she said firmly.
Even if I have to sneak out of the house again.

“Good.” He turned and started walking toward his grandmother's beach chair. “Because I'd like to see you ride that bull before I go.”

 

Chapter Four

O
NE MORE NIGHT
.
Don't waste it.

Noah stared into the flames. With Dominic and Ryan's help, he'd built one helluva campfire on his dad's land, not far from the barn. Pickups formed a barrier on one side. Their tailgates were parked a safe distance from the flames. But they remained close enough for ­couples and groups of ­people he'd known his entire life to huddle together. The keg stood opposite the lines of trucks on the other side of the fire. And behind it, the woods he'd played in as a kid.

One more night.
He wanted to enjoy it—­right or wrong. Because he wasn't going to come home the same. He knew it. And it scared the hell out of him.

He scanned the crowd. Dominic was holding court, his legs dangling over the back of his dad's truck and his arm around Lily. He couldn't find Ryan. But he'd spotted him earlier, heading to the house with Helena. They'd been on a mission to raid his dad's liquor cabinet. Knowing his father wouldn't mind, Noah had given them the go-­ahead.

One more night.
And he wanted Josie Fairmore—­the only person in Forever who'd asked,
Are you scared?

He spotted her, standing off to the side of the keg with a red plastic cup in her hand. Her white sundress glowed in the firelight, hugging her curves and offering a stellar view of her legs. She wore her dark hair long and loose around her shoulders. And a pair of brown leather cowboy boots on her feet.

Noah was by her side before he realized he'd been walking, dodging backslaps from old friends. Sure, he'd smiled at them, but he'd wanted to get to Josie.

“Your dad would probably ground you for the rest of the year if he saw you sipping on that.” He nodded to the cup poised at her lips.

She lowered her drink. “Trying to save me from my dad now?”

“No.”

Tonight I want to land you in trouble. The kind that will piss off your dad and your brother. But it doesn't have a damn thing to do with drinking.

“Well, it's water. I haven't touched the beer tonight.” She lifted her free hand and ran her index finger around the rim of her cup. “And I'm leaving for college in a few weeks. I doubt my father will bother driving up to Portland to ground me.”

“Would you listen if he did?”

“Probably not.”

“So . . .” Shit, he was acting like he'd never spoken to a woman before. And this was Josie.

Because it was Josie, he had to ask. “Has Travis left you alone?”

She nodded and her smiled faded. “He hasn't called, texted, or emailed. And I don't miss him.”

“Glad you're not heartbroken.”
Because I'm dying to take you into the barn and watch you ride that damn bull in your little, white dress.

“Not even close. I'm more upset about the fact that you're leaving tomorrow. Not just you, I mean. Dominic too.”

She turned her gaze to the grass at her feet. It was green, which was unusual for this time of year. The fact that they'd had some rain and were still free and clear from forest fire danger had allowed them to build the bonfire.

“Nice boots,” he said, ready to slam the door on words like “Travis” and “leaving.”

She lifted her chin. And the look in her green eyes? It spelled mischief. “You mentioned something about riding . . .”

“The bull.” He nodded to the barn. “It's in there. Follow me.”
And make my fantasy come true.

He was one beer into the night, so he knew it wasn't alcohol driving him. He wanted Josie. On the bull, on the cushions surrounding the machine—­it didn't matter as long as she was in his arms.

“Sure there won't be a line?” she asked, walking at his side through the darkness to the mostly empty pole barn that at one time, when his grandfather was alive, had housed cows, goats, and even a llama.

He shook his head. “I locked it up for the night. I didn't want a bunch of drunken idiots taking rides and getting hurt. Plus, my dad would be pissed if someone broke it.”

“You'll start it off slow so I won't get hurt?” she asked, her voice low.

“Yeah,” he said, withdrawing the key from his jeans and slipping it into the locked side door. But he wasn't sure they were talking about the bull anymore.

He led the way inside and flipped the light switch. The fluorescent strips overhead illuminated a dusty dirt floor. His grandfather had talked about pouring concrete one day, but they'd never had the money. A collection of boxes and old furniture stood at the far end. The black bull stood in the center of a padded section that filled one corner of the barn. At one point in time, the pads had been red, white, and blue, but they'd faded, losing their all-­American look.

“It has horns.” Josie moved past him and stepped up onto a firm greyish-­white cushion. “And a face.”

“That's real cowhide,” he said, keeping his boots planted in the dirt. If he joined her up there, he'd reach for her. And he wanted to see her ride first. His dick was hard at the thought. Having a hard-­on around Josie should have sent him running toward a cold shower. But not tonight.

One more night. . .

He watched as she ran her hand over the black hide, down the bull's neck to the leather strap that ran down the machine's side. At the base of the bull's neck, the strap connected to a handle. Some of the fancy models included a mock saddle. But Big Buck's bull looked like the real deal. His dad used to brag that this was what cowboys used for training.

She placed one hand on the handle and the other on the smooth surface covering the machine's back. Glancing over her shoulder, she raised an eyebrow. “Can I take it for a ride now?”

Oh hell yeah.

“Sure.” He headed for the controls, keeping an eye on Josie. She gripped the handle and pulled herself up. It wasn't a graceful mounting, not even close. But the way her sundress rode up her legs, flashing her white cotton panties beneath—­he was eight seconds away from pulling her off the damn thing before he hit go.

Turning away, he focused on the controls. He set the speed to slow and then called, “Ready?”

“Think so,” she said. “Does this look like a good position?”

He looked up and let out a low groan. Her bare legs held tight to the cowhide, leaving her dress bunched around her hips. And she gripped the handle with both hands. “Yeah,” he managed as he hit the big green button. “You're good.”

The machine hummed to life, sounding nothing like the animals the real cowboys risked life and limb to ride. Slowly, it began to pitch forward and back, all the while spinning in a gentle circle. It looked like a bull on tranquilizers—­or a machine designed to seduce.

Josie slid down to the neck. She took one hand off the handle and reached for the horns. Her upper body pitched forward. The machine tipped back and her panty-­covered bottom glided a few inches in the other direction.

“Hold on tight with your legs,” he called. “And move your upper body against the movement.”

“Huh?” She pitched forward again, but this time, she fought to lean back. A few more turns and her body would find the motion.

But helping her wouldn't hurt . . .

Noah climbed up onto the padding. “Would you like a lesson?”

“You're going to climb on while this thing is moving?” she said without looking at him. She was focused on her grip and the bull.

He laughed. “It's not going that fast, sweetheart.” The pet name slipped out and he saw her eyes widen. But that could have been due to the bull's motion. “And I've had a lot of practice on this thing,” he added.

“Show me,” she demanded. There was a breathless quality to her usually defiant tone.

He waited until the side of the bull faced him. Then, he reached for the handle, covering her hand with his, and scrambled on. She fell forward and he probably looked like an ass while he worked to get his leg around the moving machine, but a few seconds later he was settled. His hips pressed up against her backside as the bull's head reared into the air.

“Lean back,” he said, wrapping one arm around her waist. His other hand maintained a hold on the handle beside her white-­knuckled grip. “And relax. I've got you. The worst that can happen is you fall on your ass.”

“I'd rather keep my ass and my pride off the ground,” she murmured, letting her back rest against his chest.

Holding her close, he guided their bodies, pitching them toward the bull's head when the rear end lowered. He leaned back when it kicked up as if lifting its nonexistent hind legs in the air.

“You would be one helluva of a sight at a rodeo,” he murmured.

“Because I didn't think to wear jeans?” she teased, sounding a lot more relaxed now that they'd found a rhythm.

“I like your dress, Josie.” His gaze fixed on the back of her neck. Her hair had fallen forward, over her shoulders, during the first few moves. And now her neck was exposed.

So damn tempting.

“I thought the boots were a good fit,” she said, talking as if she needed to fill the silence. “For my debut as a cowgirl.”

“You look like one right now.”

She rocked back against him. By now, she had to be aware of his dick, hard and begging for action beneath his fly. What the hell was he waiting for? He had the woman he'd dreamed about, knowing he shouldn't touch her, in his arms.

One more night. You have one more chance before everything changes.

“I'm going to kiss you.” Not wanting to let go of her or the strap, he lowered his lips to the nape of her neck. He touched her skin, one brief, soft tease. “Here.”

“On the bull,” she said as she leaned into him and wiggled her hips.

No way in hell she missed how much I want her.

The bull's head dropped and he pressed his mouth against her neck, kissing, licking, exploring . . .

She turned her head and offered her lips, her green eyes wide. One look confirmed that she wanted this. Probably not as much as he did, but he'd bet she hadn't been daydreaming about him in a swimsuit.

“Josie,” he murmured. His fingers wrapped around her slim waist, holding on tight. His mouth touched hers. Eight seconds into the kiss that threatened to break his restraint—­he wanted her, now, on the back of a damn bull—­her lips parted and she kissed him back, taking their somewhat innocent lip-­lock straight into hot and heavy.

She broke away, but his attention, every cell in his body, remained focused on her.

“Have you ever ridden the bull naked?” she asked.

“No.” But her low voice made the sound of cowhide against bare butt seem like a brilliant idea.

“Hmm,” she murmured, glancing down. “Place your hand on my thigh.”

He released his hold on her waist and followed her instructions. Her skin felt so damn good beneath his palm. He inched upward. “For a better grip.”

“You're going to need it,” she said. “I'm letting go.”

A second later, both of her hands were reaching for the bottom of the material bunched around her hips. Holding tight with his thighs, he withdrew his right hand from the handle and placed it on her other leg.

She pulled her dress over her head and tossed it forward. One of the thin shoulder straps caught on the bull's right horn. The dress hung there, spinning around.

“Looks like the bull's waving the white flag,” she said.

Sweetheart, I'm ready and willing to surrender.

“Lose the bra, Josie,” he said gruffly. “Let's take this naked bull ride all the way.”

But she didn't reach for the back clasp. Instead, she slipped her hand in the handle and looked over her shoulder at him.

“You're sure?” she said softly.

“I want you.” And yeah, he supposed he'd known that he would need to toss that fact out there tonight alongside a few others. “I have for a while. I've respected your brother, steering clear, but I want to spend the last few hours before I go with
you
.”

“Noah—­” Her eyes widened as if she hadn't expected this speech.

But he wasn't done yet. “You can pull your dress back on and we can just sit here, watch the bull spin, and talk until the sun comes up. But I'd rather take that naked ride.”

She let go and leaned forward, her fingers deftly working to strip off her bra. “Don't let me fall.”

“I won't.” He slid his hands up her thighs, over her white underwear to her waist while she tossed her bra to the mat.

“Ah hell, Josie, I want to turn you around and bury my face in your breasts,” he said. And yeah, he heard the raw desire in his voice. “I want to claim every damn inch of you.”

His hands moved higher, brushing the underside of her breast. He couldn't resist. He had to touch her. Cupping one full breast in each hand, he ran his fingers over her nipples, offering gentle squeezes. She gasped and leaned back, her hips moving with the bull's rhythm.

“I want to taste you, touch you, fuck you right here,” he growled. “I want you so damn much. But—­” He had to tell her. He needed to make it clear. “But I'm still leaving in the morning. Nothing will change that.”

J
OSIE FELT REALIT
Y
rush in, fighting for space alongside the tantalizing feeling of Noah's hands on her breasts, his lips on her neck, his body pressed against hers. And this bull—­the hum and gentle vibration beneath them threatened to push her over the edge. Until he said those words.

I'm still leaving in the morning. Nothing will change that.

“I know,” she said simply.

His hands stilled, no longer tracing circles and exploring her nipples.
Oh no, he's walking away. He's heading for the honorable path.