Serving Trouble (Second Shot 1)

“Calm down. You don’t need to rush in and save her. Not from Josh Summers,” she said. “I have a feeling Caroline can decide for herself. And one day she might want to say yes to sharing a pie.”

“I hope you’re right,” he murmured. They drove in silence, speeding past one farm after another. Mountains rose in the distance, but they were still firmly in the valley. Cows, goats, and horses dotted the landscape.

“But you’re sweet to stand by,” she added. “Ready to protect her.”

“Yeah? You think your brother is a big old teddy bear for jumping to your defense?” he challenged. Sweet. Jesus. He couldn’t wear that label, not anymore.

“My brother’s not so bad. Especially when he’s stationed on the other side of the world. But this isn’t about Dominic.”

“No?”

“Go ahead,” she said, her green eyes sparkling with daring. “Tell me what a jerk you are.”

“A damn big one,” he muttered.

“I want details.” Her low, sultry voice flipped a switch, turning him on.

“Josie, I would strip off a lot more than your panties if we ever found ourselves in a hay wagon. But I’d prefer someplace we wouldn’t be discovered.” His voice was a low growl and his fingers tapped on the wheel, itching to turn the truck around and take her . . . where?

They couldn’t go back to his place. His dad was there. And Caroline. And he wasn’t about to seduce the police chief’s daughter in her father’s house. But Big Buck’s?

“Like right here on the side of the road?” she asked. “We haven’t passed another car in while. And I don’t think the farm animals would breathe a word to anyone. Not that they can see inside the truck.”

He glanced over at her, noting the rapid rise and fall of her chest beneath the letters across her breasts. Her T-­shirt would go first, out the window. Then, he’d push her skirt up to her waist and draw her panties down her legs.

“Josie, there isn’t enough room in the cab of my truck for the things I want to do to you,” he murmured, surprising himself by saying the words out loud. He was so caught up in the mental picture of Josie’s legs spread and her breasts bared under the sunny Oregon sky. But she’d pressed, asking to see him for who he was now, not the man everyone else wanted him to be, and he didn’t want to hold back.

“I’m not asking for anything until I’ve proven that I have a lot more to offer than a kiss,” he added, shifting in his seat. His boxer briefs felt as if they were made of spandex. His dick begged for freedom, eager to greet her in the truck, on the side of the road—­anywhere.

She made a tsk-­tsk sound. “I thought you had abandoned chivalry. Pull over and we’ll draw straws to see who comes first.”

He let out a low laugh partly in response to her words, but mostly to keep himself from begging. Sure, sex—­oral or otherwise—­with a woman he shouldn’t touch made him an ass. But ther

e were some lines he refused to cross. He was going down first and he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

And that wasn’t chivalry. He was being practical. If she wrapped her full lips around him, and if he came in her sweet mouth, hell, he’d probably pass out. The picture racing through his imagination left him damn near dizzy. If she offered the real thing, here, now, she’d have to drive him home.

“Of course, the customers might complain if we don’t make it to the brewery to pick up the beer,” she added. “But it might be worth the risk.”

“Hell yeah.” He looked over at her and found her lips parted, her tongue darting out to lick them. She was so damn sexy, so beautiful . . .

He forced his attention back on the road, scanning the shoulder for a safe place to pull over. Wire fencing stretched for miles. The only houses were set back far enough the ­people inside would need binoculars to know what they were doing on the side of the road. Up ahead the road changed to dirt for a few miles before they hit pavement again. Here was better, less dusty. And he wanted her now.

He spotted a road sign up ahead listing the number of miles to the highway and the neighboring towns. He eased off the gas, his gaze fixed on the shoulder and his body taut with anticipation.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Josie’s arm crossing the console separating the passenger side from the driver’s seat. Her fingers brushed his thigh as if urging him on. Like he needed encouragement. He needed to focus and park the damn car before he reached for her. He needed—­

“Shit!” He slammed on the brakes and swerved off the road. His desire shut off as if someone had flipped a switch and his training kicked in, driving him to throw the truck into park.

“Noah?”

He heard the alarm in her voice. In his peripheral vision, he saw the hand she’d quickly withdrawn from his leg clutching the seat belt stretched across her chest.

“Stay here,” he ordered. “If I give the signal, drive away.”

“Wait. Noah, please.”

Not a chance. He opened his door. The need to act fact, to eliminate the threat, pulsed through him. He couldn’t let anything happen to her. And God only knew what was in the cardboard box at the base of the street sign.