Forever Oregon #2

by Sara Jane Stone

  “If you want him here, Lily, he can sip coffee all night,” Noah said, his voice gentle and so damn kind.

  “Thanks.” She looked up at the man who’d been by Dominic’s side almost as much as she had in high school and for some time afterward. “He’s reviewing the police file for me. I was hoping to talk to him about it during my break.”

  Noah nodded, his expression flashing “Pity! Pity” in the same way the neon Big Buck’s sign announced the bar’s location to the cars passing by outside. “I’m glad he’s being useful for a change.”

  “He’s been a big help so far,” she admitted. “He’s . . . comforting.”

  To the point I want to slip into the back room and take a very different type of break.

  “Good. Since he was shot, we haven’t heard much from him. And before that it was all threats.” He raised his voice and looked over her shoulder in Dominic’s direction. “I’d rather have him looking out for you than throwing punches at me for knocking up his little sister.”

  Dominic raised his mug in a mock salute. “Just waiting for the right time.”

  The door leading to the back room swung open and Josie walked in with the squirming baby in her arms. “Right time for what?” she demanded.

  “To take a swing at him,” Dominic said.

  Josie marched past the ser­vice entrance to the back of the bar and down past the row of empty barstools to where her brother sat. “Well, before you try to fulfill your big-­brother duties, I need you to hold Isabelle while I kiss her father.”

  Dominic accepted the little girl, who looked like she’d rather be set loose to crawl around the barroom floor. But as soon as she settled onto her uncle’s lap, she let out a squeal of delight and reached for his beard.

  If he hadn’t been holding the baby, Lily would have picked up the martini shaker and hurled it at him. Lying with her head on his lap and feeling the proof that he still wanted her had dialed her desire up to a nine. But seeing a glimpse at the future she’d always wanted—­Dominic and a baby—­pushed her into that dangerous place where she wanted something she couldn’t have.

  Lily looked away in time to see Josie slip into Noah’s arms and kiss him, long and hard, audience be damned.

  “I can do a lot of damage with one hand,” Dominic called.

  Josie broke away from Noah. “Oh, stop it, Dom. If you wanted to hit him that badly, you would have come back and done it a while ago.”

  “Probably,” he acknowledged. The little girl on his lap tugged on his beard and he turned his attention to her.

  Having dealt with her brother, Josie turned to her. “How are you?”

  And wasn’t that a loaded question. Still terrified of my own shadow felt like the wrong answer. But feeling like my ovaries are doing backflips at the sight of your brother with a baby would probably lead to questions she couldn’t answer. From Josie, Noah, and of course the man who managed to leave her feeling pissed off, turned on, and safe, all at once.

  “Fine,” she said, though she stopped short of forcing a smile. That would probably be overkill.

  “Josephine,” Dominic barked. “Stop looking at her like that. Lily is not about to fall apart. And if she was, bringing her in to work here probably wasn’t your brightest idea.”

  “I know she’s not,” Josie snapped. “And there’s nothing wrong with working here.”

  “Noah has a reputation for taking in strays.” Lily jumped in before the siblings took their fight to the next level.

  “Strays?” Dominic said.

  “That’s just because Noah picked up a box of kittens,” Josie explained.

  And hired Josie when she came back to town, then quickly added Caroline to the staff.

  Dominic slid off his stool. “Noah, how about giving Lily a break. Between the two of you and the baby, you should be able to manage the Sunday-­afternoon crowd.”

  “Sure.” Noah accepted Isabelle, easily lifting the jubilant little girl across the bar. “The back room is all yours. I sent Caroline a text telling her not to come in today. Too slow.”

  “Thanks.” Lily slipped around the happy family. She lifted the piece of polished wood separating the liquor and taps from the patrons. “I’ll be back in fifteen. Then you can take off if you’d like. Now that I know how to mix drinks, I should be able to handle things here.”

  Noah blew a raspberry on his daughter’s belly and Lily picked up the pace, dragging her longing with her. Dominic stood by the swinging door to the back room. She rushed toward him as if he could offer the future she’d wanted since high school. And maybe this time, he could give it to her—­or a piece of it anyway.

  She focused on the police file in his hands. Maybe Dominic had found something his dad had missed. Maybe he could slam the door on the feeling that someone was out there, hunting her, and it would stay closed. If he found him.

  “Take your time—­”

  The door swung shut behind her as she followed Dominic into the back room, blocking out Noah’s voice.

  The Employees Only space held an industrial-­sized dishwasher on the right, complete with stainless-­steel surfaces for loading and storing the racks. Boxes of liquor, wine cases, and kegs lined the walls. A door stood in the back, leading to the staff parking area. Lockers lined the wall on the left. Another door, this one to a bathroom, stood at one end. And a desk, piled high with papers, filled the remaining space.

  “It’s more storage than break room,” she said.

  Dominic nodded and headed for the desk. He set down the file. Then, he picked up a pen, moved a few things around, and located a notepad.

  “Have you found something?” she asked. “In the file?”

  “No,” he admitted. “But I have an idea.”

  Her hope surged but was quickly chased by doubt. What if he was trying to calm her? What if he wanted to avoid another night on her couch watching her sleep? He’d refused to let her take a shift watching over him. She’d waited until the sun rose, when her fears subsided, to offer. Still, the answer was no. Instead, he’d driven her over to his dad’s place and taken a shower while she’d enjoyed eggs with the police chief again.

  “I know you probably did this for one of the deputies, but I want you to make a list of anyone who might have held a grudge against you.”

  She accepted the pen and paper from his outstretched hands. “You’re right. I did this at the station. I couldn’t come up with many names though.”

  “No angry ex-­boyfriends?”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Aside from you?”

  “I’m not upset with you, Lily.” He ran his hand through his overgrown locks. “I’m just . . .”

  “Determined to show the world your surly side?” She carried the pen and paper to the desk and sat down.

  “I’m pissed off at how everything turned out.” He folded his arms in front of his chest and leaned back.

  “You can’t change the past.” She glanced down at the blank piece of paper.

  “No, but I can do something with your list. More than my dad and his deputies had time for, I’m guessing,” he said. “My father is good at his job. But he has a lot on his plate. When all the facts pointed to a random guy, and no other leads appeared, well, he set the case aside. It’s been weeks and there’s no proof someone is after you.”

  Except in my imagination.

  “It felt personal,” she said. How many times had she repeated those words? Each time hoping that someone would believe her. Because if they couldn’t catch him, if they couldn’t put an end to her paranoia, how was she going to show up for school and teach her kids? She couldn’t tend bar forever. She barely knew how to shake up a drink.

  I belong with five-­year-­olds.

  “Is the list I made for the police even in the file?” she asked.

  “It is,” he said. “But I want you to start f
rom scratch. And take your time.”

  “This won’t take long,” she said as she picked up the pen. “My dad is the only person I’ve argued with recently. And I think I would have noticed if he came after me with a knife. Plus, he’s back in rehab. Court-­ordered this time after a driving-­under-­the-­influence arrest.”

  “Did he have any friends? Someone who might pick up his cause?” Dominic demanded.

  “I put one of his old drinking buddies on the original list. Your father looked into him and said he was locked up in Salem that day. Plus, the guy who attacked me was younger. The men who spend their days drinking with my father aren’t physically fit.”

  “What about at work?” he asked.

  She felt him move behind her and read over her shoulder as she jotted down the names she’d placed on the list for the police. “I get along with all of the other teachers. I love the principal.”

  “Anyone jealous of Ted?” he asked.

  “Again, just you.”

  She added three additional names, writing “new” in parenthesis next to each one. Then she turned and handed him the paper. “Two disgruntled parents and a guy I met in a bar during a girls’ night out. I never learned his last name and I don’t recall what he looked like, but he went home with my friends. Shelby might know. She’s a librarian in town.”

  “I’ll start with the unhappy parents.” He scanned the list. “Want to tell me what pissed Louis Stanton off?”

  “Nothing really,” she said. “He wasn’t listed as an approved adult to pick up his son. I think it had something to do with his divorce. I couldn’t let him take his child, but he was very pleasant. He took the form and agreed to send it in to the main office. I’m not sure if he did, but he didn’t show up at pickup again. According to his son, he works out of state.”

  Dominic raised an eyebrow. “A five-­year-­old would know that?”

  “You’d be amazed at what they pick up. On the first day of school last year, one of my kids informed me that her parents always sleep naked.”

  “Another important fact to know for dismissal time?”

  “Not exactly.”

  He glanced down at the list. “What about this last name?”

  She sighed. “Mitch kept trying to send his son to school with a peanut butter sandwich. And we’re a nut-­free school. He is hotheaded, but not the right build.”

  “He could have hired someone,” Dominic pointed out.

  “Over peanut butter?”

  “Didn’t say it was likely, but it’s a place to start.” He folded the list and slipped it into his pocket.

  “You really are taking this seriously.” She stood and came face-­to-­chest with a wall of muscle covered in a plain black T-­shirt. She placed her palms against his chest and looked up at him. “Thank you for believing me.”

  “You’ve never lied to me.” He covered her left hand with his right. “And it’s not like I have a lot going on right now. I’ve got the time to play detective.”

  Her free hand moved as if needing to touch more, to feel his skin. She traced the curve of muscle through his shirt. She reached the neckline and traveled over his collarbone to his throat. He’d possessed a powerful body before he’d been shot. And while he’d lost weight during his recovery, he’d clearly spent the months since his release working out. She could feel the power beneath her fingers.

  She glanced up. His beard appeared wild. But ­coupled with the long hair, the facial hair seemingly softened the football star turned soldier.

  What would it feel like to kiss him?

  His beard had blown past the scratchy phase weeks, maybe even months, ago. Not that his facial hair stood between a kiss and walking away. She couldn’t escape the fact that this man wasn’t right for her. As soon as he found her attacker and made sure she was safe, he’d leave again. He always left.

  But then what was the harm in kissing him now?

  This time, she knew going in that he wasn’t permanent. She’d spent so long believing she could have a future with this man. But over the past six years, she’d come to terms with what she needed from a relationship—­permanence and trust. If she ever pulled herself together and broke free from this nightmare, she could find a man who could deliver both—­and maybe the family she craved. If she found him, she could fall in love again. Right now, she was too broken, living in fear of the dark, her shadow, her own closet . . .

  And so was Dominic.

  OK, he probably wasn’t terrified by the thought of opening the door to his closet to pick out shoes. And if the bogeyman—­or the guy from the park—­tried anything with him, well, Dominic would likely take him out. She had a feeling he could do it with his bad hand tied behind his back.

  Still . . .

  After all this time, maybe they were finally in the right place, at the right time in their lives, to be just enough for each other in the present.

  “Don’t take this the wrong way,” she said, keeping her voice low as she ran her hand over his beard and cupped his jaw. “But I’m going to kiss you.”

  She detected a hint of a smile beneath his beard. “Just so we’re clear, what is the wrong way?”

  She rose up on her tiptoes and pulled her other hand free from his hold. “This kiss isn’t an incentive to do a little detective work.”

  “You’re not trying to bribe me with kisses?”

  She ran her fingers through his hair. “I’d start lower if that was my plan. And the um, evidence”—­she stole a quick glance at his lower half—­“beneath my head last night suggests that you’d agree.”

  His left hand brushed her chin, tilting it back until her gaze met his. “No, I’d start with your lips. But, honey, I know I make a better bodyguard than a boyfriend for you—­”

  “I don’t need a boyfriend right now. I just need—­”

  Crash!

  Her body tensed and her fingers dug into Dominic as she swallowed the word “you.” Fear dominated her senses, stripping away the desire as if her need to kiss the man holding her close was nothing more than a Band-­Aid waiting to be ripped off. She heard footsteps, but she couldn’t see who had burst in.

  Because her “bodyguard” had taken control.

  Dominic pulled her close as he guided their bodies back, away from the desk, and through the partially open door leading to the bathroom. “You’re all right,” he murmured. “You’re safe.”

  She nodded, trying to digest the words. At some point, she’d released her hold on his jaw and pulled her hand free from his hair. Her fingers now clung to his biceps. She needed his strength now, not his kisses.

  But I still want that kiss.

  She heard voices—­plural—­in the bar’s back room. There were two ­people out there having what sounded like a very private discussion.

  “Caroline.” She formed the name with her lips, barely daring to whisper and give away her hiding place.

  Dominic nodded. And the second person spoke again.

  Josh Summers. The bar’s resident baker.

  She pulled free from Dominic’s hold. One step backward and she felt the sink. She leaned against the vanity’s edge. If she hadn’t let the fear take over, they would be out there kissing right now. Caroline and Josh would have taken one look at the ­couple making out by the desk and retreated to someplace more private.

  But if she didn’t live with fear hovering around her and waiting to strike, if she could snap her fingers and return to her old self, then Dominic wouldn’t be here. And if he had returned under different circumstances, she would be looking for a future he couldn’t provide.

  Dammit, why did Caroline have to choose this moment, when Lily was on the verge of giving in to a feeling that had nothing to do with fear? Why now, when Lily had been ready and willing to steal a kiss from Dominic, did the dishwasher have to burst in and shatter the moment and
leave her hiding in the Big Buck’s bathroom with the man she wanted to kiss?

  Chapter Nine

  “SOUNDS LIKE SOMEONE else decided to tackle the bodyguard-­versus-­boyfriend question,” Dominic murmured more to himself than the frozen, wide-­eyed woman behind him. His training had kicked in when he heard the door swing open and he’d turned his focus to erasing Lily’s rising fear. Now, he moved to the other side of the door, which stood ajar.

  But he sure as shit was out of practice, because he’d landed them in a windowless bathroom. And the threat? Noah’s pie-­throwing friend and Josh Summers, a guy he’d run into a time or two in Forever or around the neighboring town, Independence Falls.

  “Why do you bring pies?” Caroline asked, her voice direct and clear.

  Was “pie” a code word? Judging from Caroline’s guarded expression, and the way Josh followed her into the room as if he wanted to be as close to her as she would allow . . . yeah, “why do you bring pies” must translate into something not suitable for work.

  “I like to bake,” Josh said. The next few words were lost, but the sentence ended with the word “memory.”

  Hell, maybe they were talking pie and Dominic had Josh to thank for spending his first night in town wearing marionberries.

  “Noah didn’t ask you to keep an eye on me?” Caroline demanded. Based on her tone, Josh Summers had better hope she couldn’t get her hands one of his pies—­or her gun.

  But the youngest Summers brother seemed oblivious to the threat. He merely laughed, then said: “Noah doesn’t want me anywhere near you. He doesn’t think you’re ready for a relationship or the things that go with it.”

  We shouldn’t be eavesdropping on this. We should go out there, tell them we’re here and ask them to take their pie/sex talk somewhere else.

  Dominic glanced at Lily, who was still holding the vanity’s edge as if she needed support. The other ­couple’s arrival had clearly triggered her lingering anxiety. If he marched her out there now, her fear would be on display. He couldn’t do that to her. But he couldn’t leave her here.