Serving Trouble (Second Shot 1)

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.

“What do you want, Travis?” she demanded. “And your answer better be beer, wine, or liquor.”

“Shots,” he smirked. “A round of whiskey shots.”

She turned and headed for the bar, counting her steps. One, two, three. . .

Steps four and five happened too fast to count. She slowed her pace, focused on her shoes. She refused to run from the man who’d wrapped his hands around her neck when she’d broken up with him five years ago. She’d dealt with a lot worse than Travis Taylor since then. His presence shouldn’t shake her.

“Can you pour two shots of whiskey? I need to grab something from the back,” she called to Noah as she walked past the bar.

Like my courage. I need a large dose fast if I’m going to serve Travis.

Noah’s brow furrowed. “I’ll get your shots. But don’t take too long. We’ll be slammed soon.”

She nodded and pushed through the door into the peace and quiet of the back room. The door swung closed behind her, blocking out the dull roar of the Thursday crowd—­and her scumbag ex. Cases of beer and booze lined the walls. A large metal desk covered in bills and other paperwork filled the far corner of the rectangular room. Another door stood at the back and led to a small rear parking lot. She was tempted to rush through the exit and escape into the night.

No. I can do this. I can go back out there and serve Travis without pouring his whiskey over his head.

She turned to face the door leading to the bar. She would march out there, serve her ex, and move on. Travis would not prevent her from landing this job. She would not let him ruin her trial shift. She refused—­

The door swung open. She jumped back a step as her ragged nerves descended into chaos.

Noah peered through the open doorway. “You can come back out now. Travis is gone.”

“You kicked him out?” she said as relief herded her wild nerves back into place. “You didn’t need to—­”

“He’s not welcome here.” Noah stepped into the room, allowing the door to close behind him as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. “It had nothing to do with you.”

Her eyebrows shot up. Nothing to do with her? But then it dawned on her. She’d been gone for years. What if Travis had attacked someone else? And Noah had rushed to her rescue too.

“You’re protecting someone—­”

“No. I just don’t want him here. My bar. My rules.” He lowered his arms and turned to the door. “But he wasn’t your only customer. There’s a room full of ­people waiting on drinks out there. Are you r

eady to work, or did you change your mind about the job?”

“I’m ready.” She followed him into the bar. “I’m not giving up because of Travis.”

“Good.”

And she caught a hint of his rare smile before he slipped back behind the bar.