Serving Trouble (Second Shot 1)

“No.” He stopped and turned to look out at the ocean.

“Then why go? I know Dominic has been thinking about it for a while. Have you?”

He glanced in his grandmother’s direction. “We’re out of earshot. Want to sit down?”

No, she didn’t want sand in her shorts. But she wasn’t going to pass up a chance to sit next to Noah and stare out at the waves. What were the odds she’d ever find herself alone with him again in a place like this? It was like a scene in a romantic movie—­except for the sleeping grandmother.

She settled onto the ground, burying her toes in the sand again. Her arms wrapped around her legs.

“With the marines, I’ll get a guaranteed paycheck and benefits,” he said, lowering onto the beach beside her.

“You could find that here. I mean, you have a job at your dad’s bar.”

“Big Buck’s Country Bar isn’t making enough to support three ­people,” he said. “It might turn around now that I’ve convinced my dad to take out the mechanical bull. But a new sound system would help. Some DJs. A bigger dance floor.”

“Wait, you took out the bull? I never had a chance to ride it.”

“It’s in my barn if you want to try it out,” he said with a laugh. “Dad set it up as if ­people might come out and visit the damn thing.”

“They might.” I might if you’ll watch me ride it.

But she wasn’t exactly cowgirl material. She’d never owned farm animals. Still, she had the boots in her closet . . .

“They’re welcome to the bull as long as it stays in the barn.” He looked down at the sand. “I’m planning to send home as much of my paycheck as I can spare. That should help with my grandmother’s expenses and cover the new sound system.”

“That’s sweet,” she murmured.

“It’s reality,” he said. “I can make more and hopefully do some good.”

“Are you scared?” The question slipped out. “Sorry. I’ve been watching Dominic and wondering . . . but he doesn’t act afraid.”

“I’m not sure he is.” He drew circles in the sand with his toes, not looking up at her. “But yeah, I’m scared. There are aspects of fighting, going out there with a loaded weapon . . .”

“You’re a great shot.” That fact gave her some comfort.

“Yeah, but this will be different.” He looked up at her, his expression open, honest, and so vulnerable it made her heart ache.

“I don’t want to let my team, the guys I’m serving with—­I don’t want to let them down,” he continued. “Not out there, in places where it counts a helluva lot more than on the football field.”

“You won’t.” And oh God, she wanted to wrap her arms around his supersized muscles and hold him tight.

“I hope you’re right.”

“I am.” She reached out and placed her hand on his arm. “I mean, listen to yourself. Even your fears are perfect.”

“I’m not perfect, Josie.” His voice had shifted, the sound low, rough, and so unlike him. “If I was . . . shit.”

He stared at her hand and then lifted his gaze to her lips. And she silently prayed her facial expression didn’t scream please, please, please, do it! Kiss me!

But then he looked away and pulled his arm free from her touch. He stood and held out his hand to help her up. “We should get back.”

But she didn’t trust herself to touch him. Not when she still wanted a Noah Tager kiss more than anything this world had to offer her.

He lowered his outstretched arm as she pushed herself off the sand, dusting off her butt. There was sand in her shorts. But it had been worth it.

“I don’t want your brother thinking I kept you out too long,” he said. “He might make it difficult for you to go to the party.”

“I’ll be there,” she said firmly. Even if I have to sneak out of the house again.