Serving Trouble

by Sara Jane Stone

  NOAH STARED AT the image on his phone. He knew that parking lot. The picture showed the small rear space behind Big Buck’s. Hell, even his truck was in the shot along with Caroline and Josie. The words covering the image read “Mine.” And whoever had posted this wasn’t talking about the truck.

  “This appeared on my phone this morning?” he asked, looking up at Caroline.

  “I was in the kitchen making coffee when your phone vibrated. I glanced at the screen, more out of habit than anything else, and saw this picture.”

  She stepped back and began to pace the small kitchen. The half-­eaten apple pie sat on the rectangular wooden table. The table ate up half the room, but his dad had turned the formal dining room into a home office after his mother passed away.

  “And you think Dustin sent this?” He leaned back in his chair.

  “Who else would hunt me down? Who would know to look for me here? He knows where you work. You talked about the bar all the time.” She stopped and shook her head. “I shouldn’t have stayed. I should have warned you and left, taking him with me.”

  Noah sighed. “He sent it to my phone. Whoever sent this, he’s not just after you.”

  And he could be after Josie.

  His grip tightened on the phone. He didn’t like the idea of someone hunting down Caroline. But Josie? Goddammit, he wanted to reach through the phone and crush whoever had sent this.

  “I know. Dustin’s after you too. ” She started to pace again. “We’re an easy target if we stay together. I should leave.”

  “And go where?” he asked. “I like the odds of two against one crazy, bitter, and disgraced marine.”

  “You believe me? You really think he’s coming for us?”

  “Yes.” He’d always taken her at her word.

  “Thank you,” Caroline said. “For believing me.”

  “You don’t exaggerate or look for drama. Until all that shit started when we deployed to that remote FOB, you did your job.”

  Sure, she’d endured off-­color jokes during basic and possibly during her first deployment. He hadn’t been stationed with her on that one. But when they arrived at the forward operating base in Bumblefuck, Afghanistan, some members of their team, led by Dustin, had changed. Maybe something snapped when they went out searching for the enemy and returned knowing they’d taken lives. Or maybe they’d simply parked their decency and restraint at home.

  “He’s coming for us. For you.” Caroline let out a shrill laugh. “I’m nothing to him. You’re the one who provided the evidence that stripped him of his rank and destroyed his career.”

  “I know.”

  This wasn’t a box full of kittens. This was a viable threat. And it was hitting close to home, not far from the barn where he’d slept with Josie last night. He’d been lost in the feeling that he’d finally found someone who wanted what he had to give. And the entire time, a pissed-­off ex-­soldier, who was probably armed and undoubtedly dangerous, had been lurking around his hometown.

  Shit, he hadn’t offered Josie a rescue last night. He’d brought her too damn close to the kind of trouble that led to bullets flying—­or worse. Now, he needed to keep her safe. And Caroline too.

  “Do you have a plan?” she demanded, her gaze moving between him and the screen in his hand. “Should I start packing?”

  He set the phone on the table. “You don’t need to keep running from him.”

  “Dustin might alert the police,” she said, but he swore her spine straightened and she stood taller. Caroline had always preferred fight instead of flight.

  “We’ll deal with that if it happens.” He stood. “But if he’s waited this long, I don’t think he plans to hand you over to be court-­martialed. I’m guessing he realizes that you’ll be parked behind a desk instead of thrown in a military prison as punishment for deserting.”

  “This is personal for him,” she acknowledged.

  “Right.”

  “Unlock the gun safe. We’ll go after him now.”

  It was tempting. But after seeing Caroline aim at Josie, his faith in her only ran so far. Caroline had been hurt by ­people she’d trusted to have her back when bullets were flying. That betrayal had left her on edge. When they were still deployed together, she’d grown more and more paranoid.

  “I doubt he’s still in the parking lot waiting for us after sending this,” he said. “But you can have your gun back if you promise to only use it for self-­defense.”

  “You have my word.”

  His cell vibrated in his pocket. He withdrew it and glanced at the screen. Two words stared back at him—­Josephine Fairmore.

  “Shit.” He swiped his thumb across the screen and held it to his ear. “Hey, Josie.”

  “I need you to pick me up.”

  “What happened? Where are you?” he barked into the phone as he pushed back from the table. His fear for her rushed to the surface.

  “The Lost Kitten parking lot. And my car won’t start. Daphne jumped it, but this time it has finally called it quits. I think it needs a new starter.”

  Relief washed over him. Thank you, Jesus, for keeping her safe. And yeah that was the closest he’d come to praying in a while.

  “Which stinks,” Josie continued. “Because even if I did the labor myself, I can’t afford the part.”

  “We’ll figure something out,” he said. “Just stay there. I’ll borrow my dad’s Buick and swing by to pick you up.”

  “Thanks. Daphne would give me a ride, but she’s opening soon for brunch.”

  Sunday brunch with strippers. He didn’t want to think about who headed straight for The Lost Kitten after ser­vices.

  “I’ll be right there.” He glanced at Caroline, who’d assumed a parade rest position with her hand clasped behind her back. She’d been ready to launch into action in response to the panic in his tone when Josie had said she needed him.

  “And then, Josie,” he added, looking away from Caroline, “we need to talk.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  JOSIE KICKED THE front passenger side tire of her broken-­down Mini. If her stupid car had waited until she arrived home to break down, she wouldn’t be waiting for a blue Buick that looked like it belonged in a museum to pull into The Lost Kitten parking lot and save her.

  It wasn’t entirely the car’s fault. She could have driven Noah’s truck over here, flat out ignoring the fact that it felt wrong. They weren’t a ­couple. She worked for him. And after last night, that’s where she drew the line. Or she could have cancelled on Daphne. But this morning she’d needed a friend. After facing so much alone, it was a relief to have someone who knew her past and her present waiting just across the town line. And she couldn’t have possibly known in grade school that she was picking a best friend who gave away a silicone penis over coffee.

  She folded the brown paper bag closed over the tip of the vibrator as the Buick turned into the parking lot.

  I should have called my dad and begged him to send a deputy. Or waited for Daphne to take a break and drive me home. But too late now.

  Plus, she wanted to put their “talk” behind them. And then they could both focus on work. She had a hunch he wanted to deliver the same message she’d been searching for the strength to deliver.

  Last night was great but. . .

  “Thanks for driving out to get me,” she said as she slid into the passenger seat and fastened her seat belt. “I would have waited for Daphne to give me a ride, but right now I can’t tell what I need more—­a shower or a sandwich.” Her stomach rumbled, driving home her point.

  “Daphne didn’t offer you food?” he asked, nodding to the bag.

  “Or a shower, even though I probably have hay or something from your barn floor in my hair.”

  Go ahead. Launch into your talk. Please say the words first.

  “We haven’t kept hay i
n the barn for years,” he said, guiding the old car through the turn. “So what’s in the bag if it’s not food?”

  She studied his profile. He looked just as blond, scruffy, and serious as the day she’d first asked him for a job. Nothing like the man who’d insisted on holding her close last night after he came on her breasts.

  “A gift from Daphne.” She reached into the bag and withdrew the vibrator. Noah glanced over. His eyes widened, and his brow furrowed.

  “What the . . . ?”

  He turned his attention back to the road and made the turn onto Main Street too fast and too sharp. The fake penis fell out of her hands and onto the floor.

  “Daphne had some strong feelings about the way you left this morning,” she said as she reached forward to pick it up.

  “I’m guessing she’s not the only one.” He stole a quick glance at her. “This is only about this morning?”

  “No one is insulting your skills. Trust me, you’ve made better use out of that mechanical bull than probably every rodeo-­riding cowboy in the West. And I’m guessing your equipment is better too.”

  “Jesus, Josie—­”

  “Though contrary to what half this town believes, I don’t have a lot of basis for comparison,” she added.

  “I’m sorry about this morning,” he said.

  And this is the point where I tell you I’m sorry too, but I can’t go back to the barn with you.

  “If you put that thing away, we can grab a table at The Three Sisters while I explain everything.”

  “You’re buying?” she asked, silently cursing herself for not saying the words and pushing him away.

  “Yeah.”

  She reached for the vibrator at her feet and shoved the toy back into the bag. She didn’t want it. But Noah?

  I’m making a mess of things. I should tell him to drive me straight home. I can’t do this.

  “What did Caroline need?” she asked, as if that tidbit of information was her reason for following Noah into the café.

  “I’ll tell you while we eat,” he said grimly.

  He docked the Buick in a parking space a half block from the café and the alley where he’d rushed to her rescue five years ago. This man and his hero routine. If only it didn’t speak to her heart.

  She followed him into The Three Sisters Café. She didn’t say a word until they’d settled into a corner table set for two with brightly colored cloth napkins and mismatched silverware. Nothing in The Three Sisters matched. When they’d first opened, before Josie was born, the now ancient triplets had traveled from garage sale to yard sale to anywhere that sold cheap tables, chairs, and silverware. They’d gathered the items and opened a restaurant. Some of the pieces had price tags fixed on them and could be purchased after your meal—­if you wanted an old chair that never had a hope of being mistaken for an antique.

  Noah rested his arms and started talking. He paused when the waitress appeared to take their order, but otherwise offered a detailed explanation of why Caroline had come knocking on the door. She’d listened while he explained about the photograph. She could connect the dots too. He didn’t need to spell it out. The man who’d raped Caroline had followed her to Oregon. They couldn’t prove it—­not without going to the police and exposing Caroline’s unauthorized absence—­but their former leader was baiting them.

  “Josie, I’m to blame.”

  And judging from the pained expression on his face, he believed those words.

  “You’re not responsible for a madman’s actions,” she said. Part of her was still surprised their we-­need-­to-­talk conversation didn’t involve the words “last night can’t happen again” or “it’s not you, it’s me.” Although, she still planned to deliver the line “it’s not you or me, it’s us barreling toward heartbreak.”

  “But I brought him into your life,” Noah said flatly.

  “Yes, but I’m the one who demanded a job at your bar,” she said. “And I plan to keep it.”

  He nodded. “I can’t make any promises. Not anymore. But I’ll do my best to keep you safe. It will be easier if you’re working at Big Buck’s.”

  “He’s not after me, Noah.”

  “Maybe not, but once he realizes you’re . . . that we’re . . . connected”—­Noah leaned back and ran his hands through his hair—­“I don’t know what he’ll do.”

  “About our connection.” She twirled her fork in circles on the table. “Last night was great, but . . .”

  “You’d rather have the toy Daphne gave you,” he said.

  Yes. No. Maybe? A vibrator wouldn’t send her spiraling into feelings she couldn’t handle.

  “I need to focus on paying my bills, Noah. I can’t afford—­”

  “Josie Fairmore,” Elvira called, following the waitress carrying their breakfast over to their table. “I didn’t see you in church with your father this morning.”

  “I wasn’t there.” She accepted her plate, but didn’t bother offering Elvira a smile or further explanation.

  Elvira nodded to Noah as she took his plate from the young server. But she didn’t set it down on the table. “This boy is working you too hard.”

  “I’m just grateful to have a job,” Josie said as she picked up a piece of bacon and stared at the man across the table.

  “I always thought you’d do better after going away to school.” Elvira still held Noah’s plate as if still debating whether to serve him.

  Josie looked up at the woman who won the award for the nosiest of the triplets. “You’re probably not the only one in this town.”

  “May I have my breakfast?” he asked.

  “True,” the old woman said, ignoring Noah. “But I never thought it was your fault that you lost your undergarments to Travis Taylor. That boy couldn’t manage to lead his team to the state championship. Not like Noah here.” She finally set the plate down in front of him.

  “Noah doesn’t like to talk about it,” Josie said firmly. “Not football or his time with the marines.”

  NOAH STARED ACROSS the table. Ever since Caroline had shown him the picture, he’d been trying to figure out how the hell he’d keep Josie from getting stuck in the crossfire when Dustin attacked. If there was one thing in his life he wanted under his control it was Josie’s safety. He refused to fail her.

  But she’d turned the tables on him, jumping to his rescue over breakfast.

  “Humph,” Elvira muttered, glancing at Noah and then back at Josie. “Enjoy your breakfast.” And then the nosy triplet walked away before asking if they needed anything to go with their bacon, eggs, and hash browns.

  “Now about last night,” Josie said, careful to keep her voice low.

  Ketchup. He wanted a bottle of Heinz and an escape from this conversation. And hell, while he was asking for things, he wanted Josie in his bed putting her new toy through its paces. Then he’d toss it aside and—­

  “There’s something about you,” she continued. “You kiss me and I feel myself falling for you.”

  No, Josie. I’m not the guy you fall in love with, not then and not now.

  “But I’m not ready. After everything . . . I need more time to put my life back together.”

  “Yeah, the timing’s off,” he said. And I’m not sure I should be trusted with your love.

  He’d just watched her rescue him from another pat on the back for his football days when he should have been the one jumping in. He should have told Elvira to shove it when she brought up church and Josie’s panties.

  But I want you.

  Looking at her across the table, remembering how she looked last night pressed up against the bull . . . part of him didn’t want to let the moment turn into another memory he carried with him for five freaking long years.

  “But, Josie, the timing might always be off.”

  “It might,” she admitted. “Bu
t—­”

  “Relax and eat your eggs. I’m not asking for a demonstration of your new toy. Not on a Sunday.”

  She picked up her fork. “You are a jerk.”

  “I know.” She could call him anything she liked as long as she stayed safe.

  He dropped his gaze to his plate. Somehow, he had to make that happen. He couldn’t fail Josie. He couldn’t rush to her rescue after the fact. Not like he did with Caroline. No, this time he had to have the upper hand from the beginning. No one would hurt Josie Fairmore again. That was one promise he planned to keep.

  But none of that changed the fact that he wanted to see Josie test her vibrator.

  Yeah, he was one helluva jerk.

  Chapter Fifteen

  THERE WAS A mad marine on the loose, probably armed and sure as hell dangerous, and all Noah could think about was the sex toy in Josie’s locker. But she was running scared from him instead of straight into his bed.

  He shoveled ice into a pint glass with a ferocity that left the barely legal coed on the other side of the bar wide-­eyed.

  “I can have a beer if a Bloody Mary is too much trouble,” the young woman said.

  “No trouble.” He forced a smile and reached for the tomato juice mix he kept on hand for Sunday afternoons. The university crowd confused four in the afternoon with brunch time. “Plus we’re out of the Hoppy Heaven,” he added.

  “I love that beer,” she said and launched into a monologue about how she used to drive to Portland with her girlfriends to pick up four-­packs for their respective boyfriends.

  “Here.” Noah thrust the Bloody Mary across the bar, cutting off the story. “I’ll start a tab for you.”

  The door to the back room swung open and he turned away from the chatty customer. Josh Summers emerged wearing jeans and a button-­down shirt that fit the description of dressed-­up logger.

  Noah raised an eyebrow as the youngest Summers brother approached the bar. “When did you start using the back entrance?”

  “Thought I’d avoid the crowds,” Josh said with a smile and a shrug.