Running Wild(A Second Shot Novella)(6)

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 after 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.

For two generations loggers have visited this bar. They come here after a long, shitty day and pretend they have what it takes to be a cowboy. For eight seconds after work, these guys are stars.

Except more and more had been landing on their asses before the buzzer. And they hadn’t come back for more. There were too many “kids” from the university in the area. Housing prices had gone up and the loggers had moved to Independence Falls and some of the other neighboring towns.

Noah knew they’d make more if they took out the mechanical bull and changed the place into a nightclub. Sure, the remaining locals who kept Forever’s Main Street looking like a picture-perfect, all-American town might protest. But the students would flock to the place. And the twenty-something university crowd didn’t sit at the bar nursing one beer all night. They drank mixed drinks and shots.

“Fire!” the volunteer safety officer called.

He pressed the trigger. Once. Twice. The bullets spiraled to the target. In a few weeks, maybe months, he wouldn’t be shooting at stationary pieces of paper. If he deployed . . .

Shit. He lowered his weapon. Not if. When he deployed to one of the countries no one in their right mind put on their list of dream vacation spots, he’d shoot to defend, to protect, and to kill.

Noah set his gun on the table. He moved through the motions, releasing the clip, racking the slide, and ejecting the round from the chamber. He set the piece and the ammunition down. Then he stepped back from the line, vaguely aware of the people moving around him. The range safety officer had called out “cease fire” and he’d been so caught up in the future, the what might happen when he left, that he’d missed it.

He stared down the range and out into the rolling hills lined with evergreens. So damn beautiful. He wished he could stay in the Willamette Valley, surrounded by the familiar scenery and the people he loved. But someone needed to make enough to pay for his grandmother’s retirement. And her rising medical costs.