Serving Trouble (Second Shot 1)

“I know.” One date, one dessert could stumble headlong into pain and heartache. And looking at the marine turned dishwasher, Josie knew there wasn’t a single path that led to all that pain. “I know,” Josie added, “but I still have a sweet tooth.”

Named Noah. . .

“I think I lost mine.” Caroline turned back to the dirty glasses. “I should get back to work.”

“Me too.” Josie headed for the room overflowing with customers. Every tip took her one step closer to thrusting her debt into the past. And after her shift, she’d try for a taste of the man busting his ass behind the bar.

“You’re better than ice cream, pie, and cookies combined,” she murmured. “Or at least you were five years ago.”

Chapter Eight

BY THREE IN the morning the DJ had packed up and they’d drained the Hoppy Heaven kegs. Noah declared the cows home for the night and the place emptied out. He sent April, the experienced bartender his dad had hired seven or eight years ago to help cover the busy weekend nights, home an hour later.

Josie walked up to the bar. She’d removed her Big Buck’s apron. Between her little red sundress and cowboy boots, she looked like the missing “country” in Big Buck’s.

“I gave Caroline the keys to my car so she could head home after the dishes stopped piling up,” she said.

“You need a ride then?” He lifted the ser­vice end of the bar and joined her on the other side.

“And up to Fern’s Brewery tomorrow morning. We should take your truck. More space for another keg than in my car.”

Noah shook his head and headed for the front door. “Called for a replacement already?”

“As soon as we started running low tonight.” She stepped into the parking area while he held the door. “I’m the best assistant manager you’ve ever had.”

“And the only one.” He followed her to his pickup. “But, Josie—­”

She released the passenger side door, turned, and leaned against his truck. He forgot to say a word about future raises and promotions. His memory hop-­skipped back to five years ago. She’d worn a white sundress—­shit, he could still picture her outfit—­and she’d damn near glowed in the light from the bonfire. And he’d known he wouldn’t walk away without tasting her.

Maybe that had made him an ass, a total jerk willing to take what he could get from his friend’s wild little sister before he’d left for basic training. He hadn’t wanted to go. He’d dreaded leaving his gran and his dad, hell, even the bar. But his family needed a steady paycheck, money sent home to keep Big Buck’s afloat. So he’d done the right thing—­except when it came to Josie.

And he didn’t want to take the high road now. It wasn’t like that path had ever taken him anywhere he wanted to go. No, it had paved the way for two tours and made him the enemy in the eyes of the men who should have been like brothers.

He closed the space between them and placed his right

hand on the truck beside her head. “Look at me, sweetheart,” he murmured.

Her chin lifted and her eyes met his. He swore they were filled with the same hope he’d witnessed five years ago. He placed a hand on her hip, needing her to stay right here. If she moved away now, they wouldn’t find their way back to this place. He’d bury the need and face the fact that he was taking a helluva lot more than he could give.

“Thinking about breaking your rules, Noah?” she whispered.

“You asked for a bonus—­”

“Do it, Noah,” she murmured.

He lowered his mouth. His lips brushed over hers. One gentle touch before he took what he’d wanted for the past five years.

His tongue swept into her mouth and he pressed closer. She arched beneath, the curve of her ass pressing into the side of his pickup. He ran his hand over her waist, moving higher and higher. Five years and she’d grown softer, her curves more defined, drawing him in . . .

He deepened the kiss as his thumb teased her breast through the layers of clothes. Her hips shifted, pressing closer, and then a leg circled him. The heel of her boot dug into the back of his thigh.

Don’t let go. Keep her here.

Right now, here in the parking lot, Josie didn’t need him. She wasn’t looking for someone to save her, teach her, show her a damn thing. He didn’t need to take her for a ride first on an old bull.

She just plain wanted him.

Her hips thrust forward as the muscles in her leg tightened her hold. He stepped one foot forward and allowed his thigh to slip between hers. Balanced, he lifted his hand off the side of the truck and ran his palm over the smooth surface of her thigh. His fingers toyed with edge of her sundress, thrust high on the leg she’d wrapped around him. And then he slipped his hand underneath, searching for more, anything she was willing to give him.