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.