Serving Trouble(44)

She pushed away. “It is my fault. I’m to blame. I didn’t carry my baby long enough. There must have been something I could have done differently, something I missed. A ­couple more weeks, months even, and he would have been fine.” She opened the door and moved to climb down.

Her grief, her loss—­that was all on her. And she had to pay the price. Her shoes hit the gravel and she released the door. But even with the heartache, she wouldn’t change a thing. She’d held Morgan once and it had been worth a lot more than seventy thousand dollars. Now she just needed to focus on paying what she owed and not losing her heart again.

“Josie, don’t go. Not like this.”

“I’ve been living with this for over a year,” she said softly, glancing back at him. The light in the truck illuminated his pained expression. “I don’t need a rescue from grief. Go home, Noah. Help Caroline. Search the woods. Feed the kittens. They need you.”

“And you don’t,” he said.

“No.” She plucked her handbag off the front seat floor and stepped away from the truck. “Goodnight, Noah.”

“Night, Josie.”

She closed the door, but stopped an inch before she closed him out. “You’ll remember to check on the kittens right?”

“I’m not that much of a jerk,” he said with a halfhearted smile.

She stepped back. She waited for the truck to pull away, but it remained still, engine rumbling, on her gravel drive. Shaking her head, she turned and headed for the front door. She had moved past sneaking into her dad’s house. But she knew Noah wouldn’t leave until she was inside, safe and sound.

“You’re not a jerk,” she murmured once the door was closed and locked behind her. She headed for the front hall window to watch as he pulled away. “Not at all.”

And that was part of the problem. There was a point when she’d wanted to lose herself in the kiss. His mouth had claimed hers and it would have been so easy to let him possess her.

But she had a scar—­invisible maybe, still she felt it—­from the last time Noah had walked away. Not as big as the one left by Travis, though she knew it was thanks to sheer luck and Noah that her high school sweetheart hadn’t left a visible mark. Or as painful as the reminders of Morgan’s father, the man who’d left her pregnant. Still, she wouldn’t let Noah Tager carve out another piece of her heart.

“Josephine?” her father’s voice called from the den. She heard the whisper of sportscasters in the background.

“I’m home, Dad.”

She turned and walked into the room. Her father was in his recliner, remote in hand, watching a baseball game.

“Did Noah drop you off?”

“Yes.” She sat on the couch that had been the dogs’ favorite perch throughout her high school years. “My car needs some work.”

“I could lend you a hand sometime.”

She forced a smile. “That’d be great. Thanks. I think it’s the starter. Stupid Mini. I bought it used in Portland. Easier to park in the city.”

Her dad nodded slowly and turned to her. “So did Noah hear from your brother?”

The hope in his voice nearly brought her to tears. Had her father spent the last five years moving around this big, old farmhouse, watching his dogs pass away and worrying about her brother? Alone?

I needed you, Dad. I was alone too and scared to ask for help.

She reached over and placed her hand over her father’s rough, aged skin.

“No, Dad,” she said softly. “Not yet.”





Chapter Seventeen


“IF YOU WANT to keep working at the bar, I need to lock up your gun.” Noah pushed away his empty pie plate and stared across the kitchen table at his dishwasher. He couldn’t have her waving a weapon around in the back room. Next time she might accidentally shoot Josh and then they wouldn’t get another pie. And the youngest Summers brother knew how to bake.

“But Dustin’s close,” she said firmly. “What if he shows up at the bar? Or the house? You saw the picture. He could be out there right now.” She waved to the window.

“Caroline.” He reached across the table and covered her hand with his. Her slice of breakfast pie remained untouched on her plate. “I walked every inch of this property and half the neighbor’s last night. We only have ten acres. If he’d been out there, I would have seen him.”

“He sent the text not long after I found your barn,” she protested, withdrawing her hand from his hold. “He’s following me.”

“He’s not out there now. I’m not saying he won’t turn up. But when he does I don’t think it will be good for anyone if you have a gun. You scared the hell out of that raccoon last night and you didn’t even fire.”