Serving Trouble(20)
“Hey, Josie,” Noah called from behind the bar. “Are you all right? Need a break?”
She turned to him and saw his furrowed brow. Concern shone in his blue eyes. “I’m fine,” she said, knowing he’d vault over the bar if he thought she needed a full-blown rescue. But she didn’t. Not this time.
Just a kiss to prove she was stronger than the imaginary demons trying to keep a hold on her. A kiss to prove the confident woman who walked into that meeting yesterday wasn’t a mirage.
“Good. Then do you mind taking Josh back to see our new dishwasher? I’m swamped, but he wanted to say hi. And she might feel better if you’re there,” he called over the buzz of the crowd.
She nodded in agreement and scanned the people at the bar looking for the redheaded Summers brother. Josh waved and headed over.
“The woman of the hour,” Josh said. “Congratulations on putting Big Buck’s on the map for something other than a mechanical bull.”
“That hasn’t been here in years,” she said, leading the way to the relative quiet of the back room.
“Wow,” Josh said, drawing to a halt in the middle of the room. One glance at him, and Josie knew he wasn’t staring at the row of kegs that had been delivered yesterday. He’d spotted Caroline slamming the dishwasher closed.
“Getting out of the woods looks good on you, Miss Caroline,” he called.
Caroline turned and spotted Josh. She offered a tentative smile. “I’d been camping for a while when you found me,” she admitted.
“I owe you an apology,” he said. “I should have offered you a ride straight over to Big Buck’s. To Noah. I’m sorry I didn’t believe your story about someone being after you. I didn’t realize you were a marine.”
She took a step back and her hand moved to her waistband searching for the weapon thankfully locked in Noah’s safe.
“Your secret is safe with me,” Josh said, still beaming at Caroline as if the sight of a petite woman in combat boots, jean shorts, and an oversized Big Buck’s shirt blew him away. “My short-term memory is still just starting to work again after a logging accident.”
“I’m sorry,” Caroline said. “About the accident.”
Josh shrugged. “Sometime life delivers you a whole pile of shit and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
“Yes. It does.” Caroline’s arms dropped to her side.
“But at the end of the day, my siblings found a great doctor for me and I learned to bake an awesome pie while working on my memory.” Josh rested an elbow on the stainless-steel counter beside the dishwasher. “Do you like pie, Caroline?”
“I do,” she murmured.
“I’ll bake one for you sometime.” He stood and took a step back. “I’ll let you ladies get back to work. But I’ll see you soon, Miss Caroline. When I drop off your pie.”
Josh headed for the swinging door. He gave Caroline one last wave and disappeared into the other room.
“I can’t accept a pie from him,” Caroline said. “Or eat one with him.”
“If you give me a slice, I’ll chaperone your pie-eating date,” Josie volunteered.
The marine turned back to the dishwasher. “I can’t.”
“It’s just dessert.”
Caroline glanced over her shoulder. A hollow, haunted look had replaced her smile. “It’s never just a pie.”
“I know.” One date, one dessert could stumble headlong into pain and heartache. And looking at the marine turned dishwasher, Josie knew there wasn’t a single path that led to all that pain. “I know,” Josie added, “but I still have a sweet tooth.”
Named Noah. . .
“I think I lost mine.” Caroline turned back to the dirty glasses. “I should get back to work.”
“Me too.” Josie headed for the room overflowing with customers. Every tip took her one step closer to thrusting her debt into the past. And after her shift, she’d try for a taste of the man busting his ass behind the bar.
“You’re better than ice cream, pie, and cookies combined,” she murmured. “Or at least you were five years ago.”
Chapter Eight
BY THREE IN the morning the DJ had packed up and they’d drained the Hoppy Heaven kegs. Noah declared the cows home for the night and the place emptied out. He sent April, the experienced bartender his dad had hired seven or eight years ago to help cover the busy weekend nights, home an hour later.
Josie walked up to the bar. She’d removed her Big Buck’s apron. Between her little red sundress and cowboy boots, she looked like the missing “country” in Big Buck’s.