Serving Trouble (Second Shot 1)

“This morning.” After she’d nearly thrown up her dad’s eggs and bacon celebration breakfast. Her father’s relief that Dominic would be all right, that he was coming home after rehab, probably to stay—­it was palpable and led to large breakfasts. If only she had an appetite . . .

“At first, I told myself it was nerves. I came home planning to tell Noah that I love him, that I’ve fallen in love with him all over again. Or maybe I never stopped loving him.” The words spilled out in a rush, aimed at the pavement covering the strip club parking lot.

“Whoa, wait,” Daphne said, bending down to look at her.

“But I didn’t tell him,” Josie continued, pressing her eyes closed. “He looked so tired and overwhelmed by the past few weeks.”

“Maybe he’s been worried about you,” Daphne said, placing a hand on Josie’s back. “I’m guessing he knew this was a possibility.”

“Maybe.” But she knew it had more to do with Caroline and the man hunting them. “But I didn’t tell him. I asked him to come in and . . . well, then at work last night, at the bar, the way he looked at me. I swear it’s like he wants me, but still can’t escape the guilt. For a guy who wants the world to think he’s an asshole, it’s kind of funny.”

Josie let out a brittle laugh as she stood up and tried to see the humor. She struggled to feel better even as the ground felt like it was slipping out from underneath her. At this rate, she wouldn’t be able to stand up on her own two feet much longer.

“Josie, come here.” Daphne wrapped her arms around her and held her tight. “You have to tell him. How you feel, about the baby, everything. You’ve kept too much inside, trying to do everything on your own for so long. It’s not possible and I won’t let it tear you to pieces. Not this time.”

“You’re right,” she whispered. “I’ll tell him. Before the bar opens today.”

“CAROLINE’S TAKING THE day off,” Noah called as Josie walked into the bar. Her father had taken her Mini to the shop for a new starter while she’d been in Germany. Noah wished he’d thought to take that on too instead of leaving it to his best friend’s dad. Chief Fairmore had enough on his plate. But he’d been so overwhelmed by the things he couldn’t fix that he hadn’t turned his attention to the things he could. “So we’re on our own for dishes,” he added.

“Is she OK?” Josie set her purse and apron on the bar and took a seat.

“Yeah.” Noah focused on unloading the last rack of pint glasses. He’d come in early so that Caroline’s absence wouldn’t stretch his already overworked staff. April, the other bartender, had hugged him when he told her Josie was coming back to work. He suspected April thought he was holding out hope—­and keeping a job open—­for something that was never going to happen.

“I asked her to stay home today,” he added. “It’s been a few weeks since Dustin reached out.” And shot at us. “I think it best if she lays low for a while. Plus I hired a private investigator to poke around down where Dustin’s from in California. His wife and kids are still there, but no one’s seen him in a while. Turns out his wife got a restraining order against him. So chances are he’s still hanging around here somewhere, biding his time and trying to turn Caroline into a nervous wreck. Or more of a wreck. If that’s his plan, it’s working. She’s losing it a bit.”

And I don’t want her anywhere near you. It’s the only damn thing I can think of to keep you safe and out of range of a fucking shotgun and the woman who feels more and more like a cornered animal every damn day.

“We’ll manage,” Josie said, but there was a hefty dose of grim in her tone. “I’m sort of glad she’s not here because we need to talk.”

Noah set the pint glass down and looked at her. He knew what was coming. He’d been waiting, hoping to hear these words. Hell, he had to fight to keep from blurting out, I know you’re scared, but I want this. Our baby—­

“I love you,” she said, and he took a step back. Yeah, he’d seen it in her beautiful, green eyes twenty-­four hours ago when he’d been buried inside her. But he’d expected her to whisper the words with hope and passion, not the same voice she’d use to explain the details of Dominic’s injuries.

He placed his hands flat on the bar. “Josie, I—­”

“And,” she continued, staring up at him, so damn determined to have her say that he shut up. And yeah, there wasn’t much to say after her declaration. What the hell could he offer her in return? I want you? It wasn’t the same.

“And we’re having a baby,” she said, her voice trembling.

Thank you, Jesus. He’d been waiting to hear those words, hoping he’d have a reason to turn to the world—­every damn person in this town, her father, her brother, everyone—­and say, She’s mine. My family. My future.

“You’re sure?” he said, and damn, he sounded like a kid who couldn’t quite believe Santa Claus had traveled down his chimney. It was too much a miracle to be true.

She nodded. “I took a test this morning.”

He pressed his palms into the bar and pushed himself up, vaulting over the polished wood, scrambling to get to the other side, to reach her.

“Josie,” he murmured, pulling her into his arms. He held her tight, clutching the damn happiness that had been thrust at him despite the problems that had come rushing in his direction, one after another.

How was he going to keep her safe? Dustin was out there and armed.

“I’m so scared,” she whispered.

“Yeah, I know,” he said. “I am too.”

“I don’t want to lose this baby,” she added.

Forget Dustin. Those words, her feeling, her fears—­this wasn’t a madman he could hunt down in his freaking woods. There wasn’t a damn thing he could do to keep her from losing this baby tomorrow or six months from now.