Serving Trouble (Second Shot 1)

“Jesus, Josie—­”

“Though contrary to what half this town believes, I don’t have a lot of basis for comparison,” she added.

“I’m sorry about this morning,” he said.

And this is the point where I tell you I’m sorry too, but I can’t go back to the barn with you.

“If you put that thing away, we can grab a table at The Three Sisters while I explain everything.”

“You’re buying?” she asked, silently cursing herself for not saying the words and pushing him away.

“Yeah.”

She reached for the vibrator at her feet and shoved the toy back into the bag. She didn’t want it. But Noah?

I’m making a mess of things. I should tell him to drive me straight home. I can’t do this.

“What did Caroline need?” she asked, as if that tidbit of information was her reason for following Noah into the café.

“I’ll tell you while we eat,” he said grimly.

He docked the Buick in a parking space a half block from the café and the alley where he’d rushed to her rescue five years ago. This man and his hero routine. If only it didn’t speak to her heart.

She followed him into The Three Sisters Café. She didn’t say a word until they’d settled into a corner table set for two with brightly colored cloth napkins and mismatched silverware. Nothing in The Three Sisters matched. When they’d first opened, before Josie was born, the now ancient triplets had traveled from garage sale to yard sale to anywhere that sold cheap tables, chairs, and silverware. They’d gathered the items and opened a restaurant. Some of the pieces had price tags fixed on them and could be purchased after your meal—­if you wanted an old chair that never had a hope of being mistaken for an antique.

Noah rested his arms and started talking. He paused when the waitress appeared to take their order, but otherwise offered a detailed explanation of why Caroline had come knocking on the door. She’d listened while he explained about the photograph. She could connect the dots too. He didn’t need to spell it out. The man who’d raped Caroline had followed her to Oregon. They couldn’t prove it—­not without going to the police and exposing Caroline’s unauthorized absence—­but their former leader was baiting them.

“Josie, I’m to blame.”

And judging from the pained expression on his face, he believed those words.

“You’re not responsible for a madman’s actions,” she said. Part of her was still surprised their we-­need-­to-­talk conversation didn’t involve the words “last night can’t happen again” or “it’s not you, it’s me.” Although, she still planned to deliver the line “it’s not you or me, it’s us barreling toward heartbreak.”

“But I brought him into your life,” Noah said flatly.

“Yes, but I’m the one who demanded a job at your bar,” she said. “And I plan to keep it.”

He nodded. “I can’t make any promises. Not anymore. But I’ll do my best to keep you safe. It will be easier if you’re working at Big Buck’s.”

“He’s not after me, Noah.”

“Maybe not, but once he realizes you’re . . . that we’re . . . connected”—­Noah leaned back and ran his hands through his hair—­“I don’t know what he’ll do.”

“About our connection.” She twirled her fork in circles on the table. “Last night was great, but . . .”

“You’d rather have the toy Daphne gave you,” he said.

Yes. No. Maybe? A vibrator wouldn’t send her spiraling into feelings she couldn’t handle.

“I need to focus on paying my bills, Noah. I can’t afford—­”

“Josie Fairmore,” Elvira called, following the waitress carrying their breakfast over to their table. “I didn’t see you in church with your father this morning.”

“I wasn’t there.” She accepted her plate, but didn’t bother offering Elvira a smile or further explanation.

Elvira nodded to Noah as she took his plate from the young server. But she didn’t set it down on the table. “This boy is working you too hard.”

“I’m just grateful to have a job,” Josie said as she picked up a piece of bacon and stared at the man across the table.