Serving Trouble(6)
“I wasn’t . . . I recognize him,” she protested.
“Chad’s engaged now. Or will be soon,” Noah continued. “To Lena. Don’t even think about messing with her. I’ve seen her shoot.”
“You’re still visiting the gun club?”
He nodded grimly. “Every chance I get.”
He hadn’t lost his smile. But doom and gloom seemed to be his default in her company. Maybe if she made him laugh—
“To Noah,” a man who looked a decade or two older than her father called out. “For his service.”
Four men, one wearing a vest covered in badges, raised their glasses. “To Noah!”
“Trying to work, Frank,” Noah growled. And she swore his cheeks turned pink. His grip tightened around the third drink and she wondered if the martini glass’s delicate stem would snap. But instead the tension rippled up his arm to his bicep. The muscle bulged and the red “Semper Fi” tattooed on his arm expanded.
“Sore subject?” She rested her elbows on the section of bar designated for the waitresses to pick up drinks. “Dominic bristles when people try to give him a pat on the back too.”
“Yeah?” He remained focused on the last of the cocktails she’d ordered.
She nodded. “He says some of the things he’s done don’t deserve a toast. And recognizing that keeps him closer to the good-guy side of the murky grey space between ISIS evil and hero.”
“Dominic said all that, huh? When was the last time you saw your brother?”
“Three years ago. He stopped by Portland while home on leave,” she admitted. “But we email.”
He shifted the drink to her end of the bar. “Wasn’t sure you knew how, seeing as you never wrote back to me.”
“You ran out of that barn . . .” She loaded the drinks onto her tray. “You wrote a long, drawn-out apology. But I wasn’t sorry. I’ve made a lot of stupid choices, especially in high school.” She looked up at him, straight into his blue eyes. “That night wasn’t one of them.”
Now, if she landed back in his barn, naked and ready to hand over her heart a second time, that would be a mistake.
He shook his head and a patron called for a beer. “Planning to tell Dominic that you’re working here?”
“There’s plenty I don’t share with my brother.”
“Like why you need the money?” he asked, his expression still set to doom and gloom.
“That too.” She picked up the tray and walked away, praying it wouldn’t spill. She made it to the booth and served the drinks. The blonde girl who’d turned twenty-one last week—Josie had checked her ID when she’d ordered, seeing as the bouncers didn’t arrive until eight—handed her an extra five bucks.
Josie smiled as she turned and headed to the next table. So her feet hurt. And her boss was asking questions she’d rather not answer. This wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle. And maybe the next time she placed a drink order, she could convince Noah to smile.
“What can I get for you?” she asked, slipping the five-dollar bill into the Big Buck’s apron with the rest of her tips and retrieving her notepad.
“How about your panties?” a deep, taunting voice said. “I’ve been waiting five long years to get my hands on them again.”
She looked up and met Travis Taylor’s smug smile. The past five years hadn’t done him any favors. He’d gained a lot more than five pounds and none of his excess weight resembled muscle.
“My underwear isn’t for sale,” she said. But dammit, her voice wavered.
“Lost them in a hay wagon?” Travis teased.
“I can offer you drinks.” Her pen was poised to take their order, her knuckles turning white from her death grip. “If you need ladies’ undergarments, visit the Salem mall. Or is the state capital too far for you? Looks like you’re still firmly planted in Forever.”
“I’ve been waiting for you to come back from that fancy college of yours. But I never expected you to end up serving drinks,” Travis said. “I just drove over here to see you. Your dad’s been telling everyone about your homecoming. Word’s spread like wildfire.”
Her father had told everyone that she’d asked to stay in her old room? Forever’s esteemed police chief hadn’t even been home to greet her when she’d arrived. She’d driven around for more than an hour after her “job interview” with Noah. She’d wanted to arrive precisely at noon just like she’d told her dad over the phone on Sunday. But he’d already headed for the station, leaving behind a Post-it note and instruction on where to find the clean sheets.