“Please don’t tell anyone,” she whispered, her cheek against his shoulder. “Not my dad. And please promise me you won’t breathe a word about this to Dominic.”
“Josephine.” He drew back and looked down at her. “Travis hurt you. He deserves to rot in a cell for what he did.”
“It’s his word against mine,” she said softly.
“I saw him,” he ground out. “His hand raised above you—I saw him.”
“You’re leaving in two weeks. And then it will be just the same as it was after the homecoming dance when we were caught in the hay wagon.”
“What?” His brow furrowed. He couldn’t draw the parallel between two teenagers discovered in a somewhat compromising position—and they’d both had most of their clothes on—to a two-hundred-pound man slapping his girlfriend and wrapping his hands around her neck.
“Everyone saw Travis holding my underwear and thought, ‘Boys will be boys,’ ” she said. “But then they looked at me and thought, ‘Slut.’ I swear there are still some people in this town who think I hypnotized him with my breasts and made him follow me to that wagon. He couldn’t help himself. And it will be the same thing this time. They’ll take one look at me and think, ‘No! Not our football star!’ ” She delivered those words in a familiar high-pitched, condescending tone.
“Josie—”
“Face it, Noah. As soon as you leave, Travis will take your place as the town Golden Boy. He’ll be the hero everyone pats on the back. They’ll tell the story of his winning touchdown at that game leading up to the state championship over and over just like they told yours.”
“We won state my year,” he pointed out. But after four years, the thrill of the win had faded. He hadn’t been able to afford college. And while he’d been the best in a small town, he wasn’t good enough for a full scholarship. He stayed in Forever along with his two best friends, all lost in a town they’d lived in their whole lives.
Now they’d finally settled on something. Military service. A career with purpose, challenge, and a steady paycheck. They were going to do something good and become heroes for something other than throwing a piece of pigskin.
“Travis will be untouchable,” Josie continued. “And I’ll still be . . . me.”
“There is nothing wrong with you,” he said quickly, wishing like hell she hadn’t hit the nail on the damn head with her summary of Forever, Oregon.
Sure, not everyone tossed Travis up on a pedestal. But most did. Football had a tight grip on the town. He knew that better than anyone. He’d spent years on his podium in the clouds. And yeah, it might have gone to his head if he hadn’t faced the day-to-day struggles of life with a widowed father working to make ends meet for him and his grandmother.
“There’s plenty wrong with me,” she shot back. “I’m stubborn, headstrong, and my best friend’s mother owns a strip club outside of town. Oh, and I like sex.”
“Nothing on your list points to a character flaw,” he said, lumping every bullet point together, not wishing to point out that “I like sex” was definitely in the plus category as far as he was concerned. But if her brother heard those words, he’d probably have a different opinion. And Noah should be approaching this situation—and any other that involved Josie—as if she were his kid sister.
She pulled away, stepping out of his reach. “I need your word,” she said, wrapping her arms around herself. “That you won’t tell anyone.”
“Three conditions.” He folded his arms across his chest in a pose that mirrored hers. “First, you stop seeing him.”
“Done,” she said. “I’ll tell him again and again until he gets the message.”
He shook his head. “No. You can call him. But I’ll make sure he understands. That’s my second condition. I’m going to have a chat with your soon-to-be ex.”
She nodded.
“Third condition,” he said, knowing this one would be tricky. “If you ever land in a situation you can’t handle, call me.”
She let out a raspy laugh. “And you’ll what? Ride in on your white horse and save me? From Afghanistan? Or Iraq? Or wherever else they’re sending recently enlisted marines these days?”
“Call, email, or send a letter. Hell, send a carrier pigeon. I don’t care how you get in touch, or where I am. If you need me, I’ll find a way to help. It doesn’t matter where I am or what I’m doing. You’re like family to me, Josie. And I’m always here for you.”
“Like family?” She raised an eyebrow. “So you’re doing this for Dominic? Because my brother is your BFF?”
“No, I’m doing this because I care about you,” he growled.
She stepped back and he wished he’d kept those words locked away. Let her think this was all about his best friend, her brother. But no, he had to toss out the “c” word, which in teenage speak probably held almost as much weight as “like” and, God help him, “love.”
“Like family,” she repeated.
And he nodded even though he had a feeling she was running through every look he’d ever given her, searching for a sign that he cared about her for the same base, physical reasons most guys looked at her and wanted a piece.
“Yeah,” he said. Then he quickly added a few words that he knew would stop her before she returned to the moment he’d first seen her in a bikini and admired the hell out of her Sports Illustrated–worthy body. “I’m also doing this because in my book it is always wrong to hit a woman. And I hope you’ll change your mind about telling your dad, because Travis belongs behind bars for what he did to you.”
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
FOREVER 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 a
fter 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
NOAH 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.
Serving Trouble Page 18
