Serving Trouble Read online

  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.”

  JOSIE 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 . . .

  She pushed away. “It is my fault. I’m to blame. I didn’t carry my baby long enough. There must have been something I could have done differently, something I missed. A ­couple more weeks, months even, and he would have been fine.” She opened the door and moved to climb down.

  Her grief, her loss—­that was all on her. And she had to pay the price. Her shoes hit the gravel and she released the door. But even with the heartache, she wouldn’t change a thing. She’d held Morgan once and it had been worth a lot more than seventy thousand dollars. Now she just needed to focus on paying what she owed and not losing her heart again.

  “Josie, don’t go. Not like this.”

  “I’ve been living with this for over a year,” she said softly, glancing back at him. The light in the truck illuminated his pained expression. “I don’t need a rescue from grief. Go home, Noah. Help Caroline. Search the woods. Feed the kittens. They need you.”

  “And you don’t,” he said.

  “No.” She plucked her handbag off the front seat floor and stepped away from the truck. “Goodnight, Noah.”

  “Night, Josie.”

  She closed the door, but stopped an inch before she closed him out. “You’ll remember to check on the kittens right?”

  “I’m not that much of a jerk,” he said with a halfhearted smile.

  She stepped back. She waited for the truck to pull away, but it remained still, engine rumbling, on her gravel drive. Shaking her head, she turned and headed for the front door. She had moved past sneaking into her dad’s house. But she knew Noah wouldn’t leave until she was inside, safe and sound.
/>   “You’re not a jerk,” she murmured once the door was closed and locked behind her. She headed for the front hall window to watch as he pulled away. “Not at all.”

  And that was part of the problem. There was a point when she’d wanted to lose herself in the kiss. His mouth had claimed hers and it would have been so easy to let him possess her.

  But she had a scar—­invisible maybe, still she felt it—­from the last time Noah had walked away. Not as big as the one left by Travis, though she knew it was thanks to sheer luck and Noah that her high school sweetheart hadn’t left a visible mark. Or as painful as the reminders of Morgan’s father, the man who’d left her pregnant. Still, she wouldn’t let Noah Tager carve out another piece of her heart.

  “Josephine?” her father’s voice called from the den. She heard the whisper of sportscasters in the background.

  “I’m home, Dad.”

  She turned and walked into the room. Her father was in his recliner, remote in hand, watching a baseball game.

  “Did Noah drop you off?”

  “Yes.” She sat on the couch that had been the dogs’ favorite perch throughout her high school years. “My car needs some work.”

  “I could lend you a hand sometime.”

  She forced a smile. “That’d be great. Thanks. I think it’s the starter. Stupid Mini. I bought it used in Portland. Easier to park in the city.”

  Her dad nodded slowly and turned to her. “So did Noah hear from your brother?”

  The hope in his voice nearly brought her to tears. Had her father spent the last five years moving around this big, old farmhouse, watching his dogs pass away and worrying about her brother? Alone?

  I needed you, Dad. I was alone too and scared to ask for help.

  She reached over and placed her hand over her father’s rough, aged skin.

  “No, Dad,” she said softly. “Not yet.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “IF YOU WANT to keep working at the bar, I need to lock up your gun.” Noah pushed away his empty pie plate and stared across the kitchen table at his dishwasher. He couldn’t have her waving a weapon around in the back room. Next time she might accidentally shoot Josh and then they wouldn’t get another pie. And the youngest Summers brother knew how to bake.

  “But Dustin’s close,” she said firmly. “What if he shows up at the bar? Or the house? You saw the picture. He could be out there right now.” She waved to the window.

  “Caroline.” He reached across the table and covered her hand with his. Her slice of breakfast pie remained untouched on her plate. “I walked every inch of this property and half the neighbor’s last night. We only have ten acres. If he’d been out there, I would have seen him.”

  “He sent the text not long after I found your barn,” she protested, withdrawing her hand from his hold. “He’s following me.”

  “He’s not out there now. I’m not saying he won’t turn up. But when he does I don’t think it will be good for anyone if you have a gun. You scared the hell out of that raccoon last night and you didn’t even fire.”

  She folded her arms across her chest. “I heard the noise and I was so scared.”

  He sat back in his chair. “Not everything is an attack. Not around here. You’re safe, Caroline. I’m going to make sure no one turns you in and I’m going to protect you from Dustin. You’ll just have to trust me.”

  She nodded and withdrew the gun from the waistband of her pants. “I do. I know you’ll do your best to keep me safe and hidden. I’d feel better if I could help . . . but you’re right. It’s not just Dustin. Every noise feels like an attack is imminent.”

  He took the pistol and removed the bullets. At least one of the women he was trying to keep out of reach of a madman wanted his help.

  “But I’m keeping the job,” she said.

  “That’s fine, Caroline. I’m going to take a shower and then sleep for a few hours before heading into work.”

  He pushed back from the table, feeling the ache in his muscles from hiking until past dawn this morning. At some point, he needed a full night’s sleep. Maybe a return to the first few days back when he’d taken over the bar from his dad. He’d crashed after closing and slept until midmorning. Some days he’d gone for a run before opening the bar, but most of the time he’d fit in a little physical training or a trip to the gun club when April showed up. Simple, easy days. And there had been no chance to play the hero.

  The floorboards creaked and groaned as he climbed to the second story. He headed for his bedroom, pulling off his T-­shirt as he walked. The walls were pale blue and covered in pictures from high school. There was a blank space above his wooden headboard where he’d once hung a “The Few. The Proud. The Marines.” poster. He’d ripped it down when he’d first walked into the room after returning home.

  He scanned the other walls as he removed his boots and jeans. Dominic stared back at him from almost every shot. And Ryan was in most of them too.

  “Dom, I need you to come home and kick my ass for laying a hand on your sister,” he murmured to the picture on the bedside table. He stood in the center holding up a trophy. “I need something to keep me away from her.”

  Because it feels a helluva lot like she is the only one I want and need.

  He stripped off his pants, tossed them on the unmade bed, and headed for the attached bath. Running his hand over his chin, he turned to the mirror. He should probably shave too, but he was too damn tired.

  Where the hell had Dustin disappeared to? He turned on the shower and stepped under the cool stream without waiting for the water to warm. He hadn’t seen any signs of a campsite, or even footprints in the wet ground from the light rain a few nights back.

  He suspected their former CO was trying to terrorize Caroline. Back on the base in Afghanistan, the scumbag had laughed when he’d run into Noah escorting Caroline to the bathroom in the middle of the night. He teased her for needing a chaperone to take a piss. It had taken a helluva lot of restraint to keep from punching the higher-­ranking marine. But Noah had held back knowing Caroline deserved her day in court.

  And all the bastard got was a slap on the wrist for adultery. I should have knocked him out when I had the chance.

  This time, he would land a hit or two. While he’d taken Caroline’s gun, he planned to keep one locked in his truck.

  “Noah!” He heard a pounding on his bedroom door as Caroline called out a second time. “Noah!”

  “In the shower,” he said, doubting she heard him over the water. He leaned his head back, rinsing the shampoo out.

  “There’s a . . .”

  He couldn’t make out the rest. He turned the water off, stepped out, and reached for a towel.

  “Did you hear me?” The panic was rising in her voice and she screamed through the door. “There’s a patrol car out front!”

  Noah secured the towel at his waist and headed for the door, leaving a trail of water on the linoleum bathroom floor and then the carpeted bedroom.

  “Did an officer get out of the car?” he demanded, opening the door.

  A pale-­faced Caroline shook her head.

  “Might be Josie’s dad,” he reassured her. Without bothering to take the time to pull on clothes, he headed for the stairs. If they were here for Caroline, if someone had tipped them off, he couldn’t let her meet them alone.

  He reached the kitchen and spotted the car sitting in the gravel parking area that separated the house from the barn. The side read “Forever Police Department.” And he breathed a sigh of relief. Not the state troopers. He knew every cop working under Josie’s dad. Hell, maybe his neighbor had reported him for snooping around his property by the chicken coop at dawn.

  But the door to the police car didn’t open. Noah pushed through the door to his house and scanned the front seat of the car. The person in the driver’s seat had long, dark hair. />
  Josie?

  “What the hell?” With the faded blue towel keeping his private parts out of view, he walked out onto the porch. “Stay here,” he called to Caroline.

  “Shoes would have been a good idea,” he muttered as he crossed the gravel to the car. He headed for the driver’s side window and knocked.

  Josie turned to look up at him. Her fingers maintained a white-­knuckled grip on the steering wheel. And her eyes . . . red and overflowing with tears. Her cheeks were wet. Even though her hands maintained a tight hold on the wheel, her arms trembled as sobs shook her body.

  “Josie!” He pulled opened the driver’s side door and took a knee right there in the gravel. He didn’t care if the rocks tore his skin to pieces because one look at her face, a mask of pain and anguish covering her go-­to defiant expression, and he knew. Someone had died.

  Dominic.

  He reached up and placed his hand on her cheek. He didn’t trust himself to pull her from the car. Even kneeling on the ground, his legs felt like Jell-­O. As soon as she said the words—­the ones that he fucking knew were coming—­then he would need to turn away from the truck and throw up.

  Gently, he turned her face toward his. “What is it, Josie?” he whispered.

  “Dad got a call early this morning.” She hiccupped as the tears trickled faster and faster, rushing over her cheeks and his hand. “Dominic was injured.”

  “Injured. Not dead?”

  She nodded and he placed his free hand on her leg to keep from falling forward with relief.

  “Not dead,” she said, her voice still trembling. “But it’s bad. They didn’t provide details. I don’t know how it happened, where he’s hurt, or where he was. Just that they’re moving him to Germany and he’ll need surgery.”

  Noah squeezed her thigh. “He’s strong. Your brother will make it through surgery.”

  “But the thought of him in a hospital alone.” She closed her eyes. “I’ve counted on him being the best, the strongest, the smartest ever since he left. He wanted to serve. And I trusted him to always be the one out of the two of us who would succeed. He’s the star. I know he’s fighting, going to dangerous places, but I always thought he’d be all right.”