Serving Trouble(23)

He headed for the passenger’s door and she followed. “You’re not going to listen to him, are you? He doesn’t have the right to jump in—­”

“He’s your brother. He has every right.” Noah opened the door and stepped back, waiting for her to climb into the truck.

She let out an indignant huff, but took her seat.

“The thing is,” Noah said, still holding open the door. He was grinning at her, offering a glimpse of his old charm. But the look in his blue eyes was pure sin and stolen kisses. “I don’t have a sister. I already warned you, Josie, I’m not some war hero. And I’m sure as hell not a saint.”

“No wonder I can’t stop wanting you,” she murmured. And he laughed.

“Hold that thought for another night,” he said. “And whatever you do, don’t tell your brother.”





Chapter Nine


“YOU HAVEN’T STOPPED by the club.” Daphne’s voice was lighthearted and upbeat. But even at eight in the morning after too little sleep, Josie could hear the hurt.

Josie sat on the edge of the twin bed she’d slept in until she’d gone away to college. “I’ve been working every night at Big Buck’s.”

With this crazy AWOL marine and a boss whom I want to see naked.

“I heard about the Hoppy Heaven,” her friend said. “Sounds like he’ll keep you around, and for the right reasons.”

“I hope so,” she said. “I have a payment due at the end of the month.”

Reality was like an anchor holding her ship in place and preventing her from sailing straight for happiness. Not that Noah’s bed was a beacon of bliss. OK, maybe it was—­for a few hours, a single night, maybe two . . . But it wasn’t a long-­term destination. Not unless she was willing to fall in love with him again and suffer the heartbreak.

Sure, she could push past fear for a night or two. Just like she could march into Oregon’s hottest brewery and win a contract. She could reach for a strength she wasn’t sure she possessed and play at being bold, even daring. But deep down, she was still terrified she’d stumble headfirst into a heartache she couldn’t handle.

“So how’s Noah?” Daphne asked. “Still surly? Or have you helped him find his smile?”

“He’s convinced that he’s not the hometown hero anymore,” she said. “He claims he’s a jerk. And I swear he’s trying to prove it.”

By pressing me up against the side of his truck.

Silence. Josie couldn’t even hear the clink of dishes in the background.

“Daph?” she said. “Did I lose you?”

“You love jerks,” Daphne pointed out.

She sighed. “I know.”

“He’s working tonight?”

“Noah is always working.” She stood and headed for the pile of shoes by the closet. She’d dumped her suitcase out, but she hadn’t put her shoes away. This wasn’t permanent. She’d come home to get back on her feet. She wasn’t giving her shoes a forever home in her childhood closet.

“He’s coming by to pick me up soon. We’re heading to the brewery to pick up another keg,” Josie added, plucking her cowgirl boots off the top of the pile. She might as well wear them here. They seemed out of place in downtown Portland. Not that she had a reason to go back. She’d shed her friends, her job, her scholarship, her apartment—­every piece of her life in that city had drowned in her depression and mounting dept.

“He might do something nice today and then you won’t fall for him,” Daphne said, teasing.

“Maybe.” But he’d already taken in two women running from pasts that refused to let go. That was sweet of him and she still bought his asshole act. “I suppose there is always the chance we find an old lady who needs help across the street or a kitten who needs to be rescued from a tree,” she added.

Daphne laughed, but Josie didn’t join in. Because even if Noah saved every lost kitten from here to Portland, she’d still hope for another kiss, another touch, another taste beside his truck.

Maybe I can push my fears aside again and take the risk. . .

“I’ll stop by tomorrow morning,” Josie said. “I promise.”

“Visiting a strip club instead of church on a Sunday?” Daphne said with feigned horror. “What will ­people say?”

“That I’m still a lost cause. That I haven’t changed.” She sat on her bed and pulled on her boots that would walk straight back to Noah’s barn if she let them. “And they might be right,” she added. “Because I want him to be a jerk.”