Serving Trouble (Second Shot 1)

“I can try, Dad. But if the tomatoes go on strike like they did the last time you put me in charge, well, remember you asked for my ‘help.’ ”

Her father leaned his head back and laughed. “I’ll tackle the tomatoes if you handle the beans. I never liked them much anyway.”

She smiled as the waitress set down their salads. “Deal.”

Maybe she could salvage this relationship. After everything she’d been through, maybe she could find a place here, at home.

BY MIDNIGHT, DINNER with her father felt like a distant memory. Big Buck’s didn’t have a DJ on Sunday nights, but the place had filled up with patrons hoping for a pint of Hoppy Heaven. Josie had served up a tray full of disappointment all night long. The tips were dismal.

The local beer hero, my ass.

She set two bottles of light beer in front of the dudes in the corner booth and walked away before they could complain about the empty keg. She didn’t want to hear about how she’d let them down when it came to their drink of choice. She stomped back to the bar to pick up the next round.

Who wanted to claim the “beer hero” title anyway? It didn’t have the same ring as Noah’s claim to fame. “Football star” or “veteran warrior”—­those labels deserved respect. Noah had done something brave, something to be proud of—­he’d served.

But apart from the deal with the brewery, what had she accomplished? She’d survived the loss of a child she wasn’t supposed to have in the first place. She’d lived through asshole boyfriends and grief.

No, it was better to stick with her Hoppy Heaven claim to local fame. Everything else she’d “accomplished” stemmed from bad decisions.

Joining the army, the marines—­those were solid, good choices.

Selfless.

Brave.

Although it hadn’t exactly worked out that way for Caroline. She’d survived her own assholes and grief.

At least the jerks from my past haven’t driven me to carry a gun.

Josie stopped in the middle of the crowded bar. ­People moved around her, talking and drinking. Was that the upside here? She’d come so far, pulling herself out of a grief that threatened to eat her alive, and the only bright side was that she didn’t have to carry a weapon?

“The cows are home for the night, folks,” Noah announced, his voice cutting through the crowd.

“Hey, what about last call?” one of the dudes in the booth called.

“Finish up what you have and head out,” Noah said, his gaze landing on Josie. “We’re done for the night.”

She lowered her chin and focused on her worn Converse sneakers. He was jumping to her rescue. Had he caught the college kids staring at her as if she’d broken their hearts by not having their favorite beer available tonight? Or had he heard from Dominic? Maybe Ryan had responded with bad news?

Her head swam with what-­ifs and she headed for the bar.

“What’s wrong with your cows?” another man called. “It’s not even one in the morning.”

“On a Sunday,” Noah muttered. But then he raised his voice and called out, “Sorry. The dishwasher is broken.”

Caroline. He’s rushing to her rescue tonight.

“Oh, Noah,” she murmured, her voice too low to be heard over the grumbling customers. “You can’t save everyone.”

Just like she couldn’t keep stumbling into heartbreak and then putting herself back together.

One day I’ll just be broken.

No, she needed to steer clear of another night in the barn with Noah. Even if it meant begging him to feed and water the kittens for her. And she should probably leave her new toy in her locker. She didn’t even want to risk closing her eyes and dreaming about him while alone in her bedroom with a silicone penis.

“Josie, I’m going to run Caroline home,” he said as he slipped out from behind the bar. He paused and glanced back at her. “Are you OK to stay and help close up? I’ll come back for you after I drop her off.”

She nodded and met him by the door to the back room. Keeping her voice low, she whispered, “Did something happen?”