Serving Trouble (Second Shot 1)

“There is nothing wrong with you,” he said quickly, wishing like hell she hadn’t hit the nail on the damn head with her summary of Forever, Oregon.

Sure, not everyone tossed Travis up on a pedestal. But most did. Football had a tight grip on the town. He knew that better than anyone. He’d spent years on his podium in the clouds. And yeah, it might have gone to his head if he hadn’t faced the day-­to-­day struggles of life with a widowed father working to make ends meet for him and his grandmother.

“There’s plenty wrong with me,” she shot back. “I’m stubborn, headstrong, and my best friend’s mother owns a strip club outside of town. Oh, and I like sex.”

“Nothing on your list points to a character flaw,” he said, lumping every bullet point together, not wishing to point out that “I like sex” was definitely in the plus category as far as he was concerned. But if her brother heard those words, he’d probably have a different opinion. And Noah should be approaching this situation—­and any other that involved Josie—­as if she were his kid sister.

She pulled away, stepping out of his reach. “I need your word,” she said, wrapping her arms around herself. “That you won’t tell anyone.”

“Three conditions.” He folded his arms across his chest in a pose that mirrored hers. “First, you stop seeing him.”

“Done,” she said. “I’ll tell him again and again until he gets the message.”

He shook his head. “No. You can call him. But I’ll make sure he understands. That’s my second condition. I’m going to have a chat with your soon-­to-­be ex.”

She nodded.

“Third condition,” he said, knowing this one would be tricky. “If you ever land in a situation you can’t handle, call me.”

She let out a raspy laugh. “And you’ll what? Ride in on your white horse and save me? From Afghanistan? Or Iraq? Or wherever else they’re sending recently enlisted marines these days?”

“Call, email, or send a letter. Hell, send a carrier pigeon. I don’t care how you get in touch, or where I am. If you need me, I’ll find a way to help. It doesn’t matter where I am or what I’m doing. You’re like family to me, Josie. And I’m always here for you.”

“Like family?” She raised an eyebrow. “So you’re doing this for Dominic? Because my brother is your BFF?”

“No, I’m doing this because I care about you,” he growled.

She stepped back and he wished he’d kept those words locked away. Let her think this was all about his best friend, her brother. But no, he had to toss out the “c” word, which in teenage speak probably held almost as much weight as “like” and, God help him, “love.”

“Like family,” she repeated.

And he nodded even though he had a feeling she was running through every look he’d ever given her, searching for a sign that he cared about her for the same base, physical reasons most guys looked at her and wanted a piece.

“Yeah,” he said. Then he quickly added a few words that he knew would stop her before she returned to the moment he’d first seen her in a bikini and admired the hell out of her Sports Illustrated–worthy body. “I’m also doing this because in my book it is always wrong to hit a woman. And I hope you’ll change your mind about telling your dad, because Travis belongs behind bars for what he did to you.”

She shook her head. “You’re determined to be the hero, aren’t you?”

“When it comes to your safety? Yeah, I’ll play the part. You name the day, the time, the place—­I’ll be there to help you, Josie.”

“Fine.” She placed her hands on her hips and held her head high despite the red marks on her cheek and neck that clearly labeled her a victim. “The day? Today. The time? Right now. The place? Forever, Oregon. And your mission, Mr. White Knight? Drive me home and help me sneak back into my house.”

Josie walked past him, her nose practically pointed to the clouds. The swing in her step drew his gaze to her perfect ass. He shouldn’t look. But dammit, one glance and he didn’t want to be the hero who snuck her back into her bedroom. He wanted to be the man who broke her out and showed her that relationships should never come with violence.

Chapter Two

FOREVER HATED HER with a vengeance. From the ­people to the distant mountain range, everything about this town seemed to be working against her. She was smart, dammit. Heading to college on a full scholarship. And still, this place was determined to land her in one mess after another.

Josie stared out the window of Noah’s pickup. The main street faded into the distance as the truck sped toward the college. Beyond the sprawling campus with its odd mix of concrete structures and old brick buildings stood her family home, empty apart from the dogs.

Except her dad’s four-­legged friends weren’t supposed to be alone. Her father had grounded her for breaking curfew last weekend. And she’d ignored him because at eighteen, she believed the time for “be home by midnight, young lady” was behind her.

They drove past the edge of the campus and the landscape changed. Houses and barns dotted the rolling green hills. In a few weeks, she’d trade the wide-­open space for Portland’s downtown. She’d be free to set her own curfew. And free from boys who responded to a firm “it’s over” by wrapping their hands around her neck.

She stole a glance at the man who’d sent her cowardly ex running away. Noah was living, breathing proof that fate refused to do her any favors. She could have handled Travis on her own. Her father was a police officer. Under her picture in her senior yearbook, it should have read “most likely to bring a man to his knees with a well-­placed kick.” Of course, her classmates

had left off the kicking part when drafting the yearbook. And she’d ended up with “most likely to lose her underwear.”

But the Forever High senior class’s lack of faith in her abilities didn’t change the fact that she could take on her ex-­boyfriend. Travis might be a hundred pounds heavier, and armed with a supersized temper, but she’d learned self-­defense from the best cops in the Willamette Valley.