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Serving Trouble(38)

By:Sara Jane Stone


“Noah doesn’t like to talk about it,” Josie said firmly. “Not football or his time with the marines.”

NOAH STARED ACROSS the table. Ever since Caroline had shown him the picture, he’d been trying to figure out how the hell he’d keep Josie from getting stuck in the crossfire when Dustin attacked. If there was one thing in his life he wanted under his control it was Josie’s safety. He refused to fail her.

But she’d turned the tables on him, jumping to his rescue over breakfast.

“Humph,” Elvira muttered, glancing at Noah and then back at Josie. “Enjoy your breakfast.” And then the nosy triplet walked away before asking if they needed anything to go with their bacon, eggs, and hash browns.

“Now about last night,” Josie said, careful to keep her voice low.

Ketchup. He wanted a bottle of Heinz and an escape from this conversation. And hell, while he was asking for things, he wanted Josie in his bed putting her new toy through its paces. Then he’d toss it aside and—­

“There’s something about you,” she continued. “You kiss me and I feel myself falling for you.”

No, Josie. I’m not the guy you fall in love with, not then and not now.

“But I’m not ready. After everything . . . I need more time to put my life back together.”

“Yeah, the timing’s off,” he said. And I’m not sure I should be trusted with your love.

He’d just watched her rescue him from another pat on the back for his football days when he should have been the one jumping in. He should have told Elvira to shove it when she brought up church and Josie’s panties.

But I want you.

Looking at her across the table, remembering how she looked last night pressed up against the bull . . . part of him didn’t want to let the moment turn into another memory he carried with him for five freaking long years.

“But, Josie, the timing might always be off.”

“It might,” she admitted. “But—­”

“Relax and eat your eggs. I’m not asking for a demonstration of your new toy. Not on a Sunday.”

She picked up her fork. “You are a jerk.”

“I know.” She could call him anything she liked as long as she stayed safe.

He dropped his gaze to his plate. Somehow, he had to make that happen. He couldn’t fail Josie. He couldn’t rush to her rescue after the fact. Not like he did with Caroline. No, this time he had to have the upper hand from the beginning. No one would hurt Josie Fairmore again. That was one promise he planned to keep.

But none of that changed the fact that he wanted to see Josie test her vibrator.

Yeah, he was one helluva jerk.





Chapter Fifteen


THERE WAS A mad marine on the loose, probably armed and sure as hell dangerous, and all Noah could think about was the sex toy in Josie’s locker. But she was running scared from him instead of straight into his bed.

He shoveled ice into a pint glass with a ferocity that left the barely legal coed on the other side of the bar wide-­eyed.

“I can have a beer if a Bloody Mary is too much trouble,” the young woman said.

“No trouble.” He forced a smile and reached for the tomato juice mix he kept on hand for Sunday afternoons. The university crowd confused four in the afternoon with brunch time. “Plus we’re out of the Hoppy Heaven,” he added.

“I love that beer,” she said and launched into a monologue about how she used to drive to Portland with her girlfriends to pick up four-­packs for their respective boyfriends.

“Here.” Noah thrust the Bloody Mary across the bar, cutting off the story. “I’ll start a tab for you.”

The door to the back room swung open and he turned away from the chatty customer. Josh Summers emerged wearing jeans and a button-­down shirt that fit the description of dressed-­up logger.

Noah raised an eyebrow as the youngest Summers brother approached the bar. “When did you start using the back entrance?”

“Thought I’d avoid the crowds,” Josh said with a smile and a shrug.

“I have five paying customers, counting the vets drinking pop and swapping war stories at the end of the bar.”

Josh held up his hands in mock surrender. “You caught me. I was delivering a pie to your dishwasher.”

“She gave the last one to my dad,” he said, knowing “shared” might be a better description.

“Generous. I like that.” Josh claimed a stool in front of Noah and leaned forward, his forearms pressing against the wood. “You know she’s carrying, right?”

“Yeah.” He’d unlocked Caroline’s gun from the safe that morning. “Do you want something to drink?”