“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.
“JOSEPHINE.”
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 sp
oke 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?
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.
BY 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.”
“NOAH, 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.”
Serving Trouble Page 11