Serving Trouble (Second Shot 1)

“Noah, wait.”

He glanced back. She was alert and sitting up now, her legs crossed. She plucked her hair band off the mat and began pulling her hair back.

So damn beautiful.

“I should go,” he said, the sight of her breasts draining the conviction from his voice. But if Caroline said it was important . . .

Caroline didn’t ask for help. Even when she’d been afraid their commanding officer would attack her again on the way to the bathroom, she’d never reached out to him. He’d offered because he saw what was happening and he couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t try to keep her safe.

Caroline wasn’t asking now, but still, she’d searched him out. And she was smart enough to guess he hadn’t spent the night in the barn to keep the kittens company.

“I should see what Caroline needs,” he added.

“I don’t have a car.” She lowered her arms, leaving her hair in a messy pile on her head.

“Take my truck.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew his keys. “Just leave it at the bar if you get your car running, OK? I’ll find a way to get there.”

He tossed the keys and she caught them. “Thanks,” she said. “I’ll see you at work later.”

He nodded, knowing he should say something more. You blew my mind last night. I never wanted it to end. I still want you.

But he just turned and headed for the door. The woman on the other side needed him. And Josie? Shit, she’d been the one saving him last night. Maybe later he’d find the words to tell her.

Chapter Thirteen

JOSIE’S MINI SPUTTERED to a stop in front of The Lost Kitten. She’d had to jump her car off Noah’s truck and she had a sinking feeling her little red car would die again when she turned it off. Stupid battery. But it had made it to her friend’s club. Thank goodness. She’d thought about taking Noah’s truck out to see Daphne.

“Not after the way he ran out of the barn the minute someone came knocking,” she muttered, then turned the key and listened as the engine died.

And the way my heart raced to the door just in time to see it slam shut.

She’d taken the risk and tried to fight her fears. And she’d ended up falling for him all over again. If only he hadn’t asked her to stay the night.

She climbed out of the car and walked through the empty parking lot. Daphne stood in the door to the special events room she rented out for bachelor and bachelorette parties. She’d even hosted a baby shower there once or twice. Daphne had offered to throw one for Josie. But she’d been dead set against telling anyone in Forever about the baby. And then it had been too late.

Stupid reality raising its ugly head, stealing away the feeling that everything was all right. . .

“Morning,” Daphne called. Wearing a pink T-­shirt that read “Naughty Kitten” across the chest and jean shorts, her best friend held a mug in one hand and a vibrator in the other.

“You sure know how to greet company,” Josie said.

Daphne shrugged. “I figured you needed one or the other. Coffee if you jumped Noah or an orgasm to remind you why you should.”

She took the coffee and pushed past her friend into the party room. Or what had been the party room the last time she’d been inside. Maybe it still was—­for a very different kind of party. Lingerie that would be better described as costumes—­no one wore a French maid’s outfit on a night when they planned to enjoy a cup of tea and a book—­handcuffs, and a laundry list of things Josie couldn’t identify lined one wall. Unopened boxes filled the other side of the room. “What happened in here?”

“I’m redecorating,” Daphne explained.

Josie sipped her coffee. “I think you’re going to lose the baby shower market.”

“The event space wasn’t bringing in enough, so I’m turning this room into an adult toy store. I’m calling it The Lost Kitten’s Toy Chest.”

“A sex toy store?” Josie said. “Just outside Forever?”

It was a bold move. But unlike Josie, Daphne Sullivan had never been concerned with her reputation. Her father had walked out when Daphne was three, leaving her mother, a church secretary at the time, to raise Daphne and one-­year old twin boys alone. With three children to feed, Mrs. Sullivan had decided men spent more on sinning than redemption. She’d used her meager savings to open The Lost Kitten. While God might have forgiven Mrs. Sullivan, the churchgoing women in Forever hadn’t extended an olive branch—­to either her mother or Daphne. Her mother probably didn’t care, given that she’d moved to Washington to care for one of the twins’ children. And the whips on the walls suggested her daughter didn’t either.

“The town needs one.” Daphne set the vibrator down on a box and reached for a folding chair propped up against the wall. “Sit, drink your coffee, and tell me everything while I unpack boxes.”

Josie explained about the kittens, the ones that didn’t belong anywhere near her friend’s toy chest. She left out the part about Noah mistaking the box for a bomb—­and what they’d done during their night in the barn. Daphne didn’t need to know the details. How Josie had been grateful he’d told her to place her foot in the stirrup, how she’d needed the stability when his tongue gave her the orgasm to end all orgasms. And maybe that was a tiny exaggeration. If it really was an orgasm for the record books, she’d still be so lost in pleasure that she wouldn’t care about how he’d run away with her heart this morning, would she?