“You have my word.”
His cell vibrated in his pocket. He withdrew it and glanced at the screen. Two words stared back at him—Josephine Fairmore.
“Shit.” He swiped his thumb across the screen and held it to his ear. “Hey, Josie.”
“I need you to pick me up.”
“What happened? Where are you?” he barked into the phone as he pushed back from the table. His fear for her rushed to the surface.
“The Lost Kitten parking lot. And my car won’t start. Daphne jumped it, but this time it has finally called it quits. I think it needs a new starter.”
Relief washed over him. Thank you, Jesus, for keeping her safe. And yeah that was the closest he’d come to praying in a while.
“Which stinks,” Josie continued. “Because even if I did the labor myself, I can’t afford the part.”
“We’ll figure something out,” he said. “Just stay there. I’ll borrow my dad’s Buick and swing by to pick you up.”
“Thanks. Daphne would give me a ride, but she’s opening soon for brunch.”
Sunday brunch with strippers. He didn’t want to think about who headed straight for The Lost Kitten after services.
“I’ll be right there.” He glanced at Caroline, who’d assumed a parade rest position with her hand clasped behind her back. She’d been ready to launch into action in response to the panic in his tone when Josie had said she needed him.
“And then, Josie,” he added, looking away from Caroline, “we need to talk.”
Chapter Fourteen
JOSIE KICKED THE front passenger side tire of her broken-down Mini. If her stupid car had waited until she arrived home to break down, she wouldn’t be waiting for a blue Buick that looked like it belonged in a museum to pull into The Lost Kitten parking lot and save her.
It wasn’t entirely the car’s fault. She could have driven Noah’s truck over here, flat out ignoring the fact that it felt wrong. They weren’t a couple. She worked for him. And after last night, that’s where she drew the line. Or she could have cancelled on Daphne. But this morning she’d needed a friend. After facing so much alone, it was a relief to have someone who knew her past and her present waiting just across the town line. And she couldn’t have possibly known in grade school that she was picking a best friend who gave away a silicone penis over coffee.
She folded the brown paper bag closed over the tip of the vibrator as the Buick turned into the parking lot.
I should have called my dad and begged him to send a deputy. Or waited for Daphne to take a break and drive me home. But too late now.
Plus, she wanted to put their “talk” behind them. And then they could both focus on work. She had a hunch he wanted to deliver the same message she’d been searching for the strength to deliver.
Last night was great but. . .
“Thanks for driving out to get me,” she said as she slid into the passenger seat and fastened her seat belt. “I would have waited for Daphne to give me a ride, but right now I can’t tell what I need more—a shower or a sandwich.” Her stomach rumbled, driving home her point.
“Daphne didn’t offer you food?” he asked, nodding to the bag.
“Or a shower, even though I probably have hay or something from your barn floor in my hair.”
Go ahead. Launch into your talk. Please say the words first.
“We haven’t kept hay in the barn for years,” he said, guiding the old car through the turn. “So what’s in the bag if it’s not food?”
She studied his profile. He looked just as blond, scruffy, and serious as the day she’d first asked him for a job. Nothing like the man who’d insisted on holding her close last night after he came on her breasts.
“A gift from Daphne.” She reached into the bag and withdrew the vibrator. Noah glanced over. His eyes widened, and his brow furrowed.
“What the . . . ?”
He turned his attention back to the road and made the turn onto Main Street too fast and too sharp. The fake penis fell out of her hands and onto the floor.
“Daphne had some strong feelings about the way you left this morning,” she said as she reached forward to pick it up.
“I’m guessing she’s not the only one.” He stole a quick glance at her. “This is only about this morning?”
“No one is insulting your skills. Trust me, you’ve made better use out of that mechanical bull than probably every rodeo-riding cowboy in the West. And I’m guessing your equipment is better too.”
“Jesus, Josie—”
“Though contrary to what half this town believes, I don’t have a lot of basis for comparison,” she added.