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“I owe a lot of money.”
Another fact. But this one led to a bucket of questions. “Your father won’t help you?”
She shook her head. “This is my responsibility. He’s giving me a place to stay until I get back on my feet.”
The don’t-mess-with-me veneer he wore like body armor cracked. If someone had hurt Josie . . . No, she wasn’t his responsibility. Whatever trouble she’d found—credit card debt, bad loans—it wasn’t his mess to clean up. He’d spent most of his life playing superhero, first on the football field, later for his family, and then for his fellow Marines. But his last deployment—and the fallout—had made it pretty damn clear that he wasn’t cut out for the role.
He couldn’t help Josie Fairmore. Not this time. And he sure as hell couldn’t give her a job that would keep her underfoot. He couldn’t pay her to work for him and want her at the same time. It wasn’t right. Maybe he was a failed hero. But he still knew right from wrong.
“Look, I need experienced waitresses and bartenders.” He stepped away, ready to head back to the peace and quiet of his empty bar.
“So you haven’t filled the positions?” she asked.
“I—”
“Please think about it.” She removed her foot, offering him the space to slam the door. “If you can’t help me, I’ll have to take Daphne up on her offer to serve topless drinks at The Lost Kitten. And I’d rather keep my shirt on while I work. But one way or another, I’m going to pay back what I owe.”
She turned and headed for the red Mini. He stared at her back and pictured her bending over tables. One look at her bare chest and the guys at The Lost Kitten would forget what they planned to order. He hated that mental image, but jealousy didn’t dominate his senses right now.
He’d witnessed a woman sacrifice her pride and her dignity for her job. He’d fought like hell for her and he’d failed her. He couldn’t change the past. What happened to Caroline was out of his hands now. Even if he wanted to help, he couldn’t. She’d disappeared. If and when Caroline resurfaced, she’d be the one charged with a crime. Unauthorized absence. And his testimony? The things he’d witnessed? It wouldn’t matter.
But Josie was standing in his freaking parking lot.
“I’ll give you one shot,” he called. She stopped and turned to face him. Her full lips formed a smile and her eyes shone with triumph.
“A trial shift,” he added. “If you can keep up with a Thursday-night crowd, I’ll consider giving you a job.”
“Thank you,” she said.
“Come back around four. And don’t get too excited. Your babysitting experience won’t help with a room full of college kids counting down the days until spring break.”
He closed the door and turned to face the dark interior of his father’s bar. Giving her a shot didn’t make him a hero. But it would give him a chance to figure out why she needed the money.
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And keep reading for an excerpt from Sara Jane Stone’s second book in the series,
STIRRING ATTRACTION
When Dominic Fairmore left Oregon to be all he could be as an Army Ranger, he always knew he’d come back to claim Lily Greene. But after six years away and three career-ending bullets, Dominic is battered, broken, and nobody’s hero—so he stays away. Until he learns Lily has been the victim of a seemingly random attack. He’ll do anything to keep her safe . . . even go home.
Lily is starting to find a life without Dominic when suddenly her wounded warrior is home and playing bodyguard—though all she really wants is for him to take her. But she refuses to play the part of a damsel in distress, no matter how much she misses his tempting touch. He’ll leave as soon as she’s safe and Lily knows her heart will never heal.
But as attraction stirs to so much more, danger closes in. With more than Lily’s heart at stake, Dominic can no longer draw a line between protecting Lily and loving her . . .
An Excerpt from
STIRRING ATTRACTION
IF IT WASN’T for Taylor Swift and chocolate brownies, I would be at home wearing size six jeans and enjoying the first Monday of summer break.
Instead, the potent combination drove Lily to add an extra mile to her morning run. She turned up the volume on Swift’s not-so-country album and jogged down Forever’s familiar Main Street, trying to shake off the extra calories clinging to her thighs. If she kept going for another ten, maybe fifteen minutes, she’d end up in the park beyond the university. The well-maintained paths weaving through a manicured forest might distract from the fact that she hated running.
But I ate three large brownies at the end-of-year celebration yesterday.
Because who could say no to a six-year-old student with a plate of homemade double-fudge brownies? She might have followed her heart when she’d applied to teach kindergarten in her hometown when she graduated from college. But now, at the ripe old age of twenty-nine, this career was hell on her thighs and waistline.
Not that the kids shouldered all the blame. She’d turned to chocolate for comfort so many times over the past few years that she’d started to wonder if she should follow her father into rehab.
