Serving Trouble Read Online Free PDF Page B

win. But now? He didn’t have a clue how to erase the grief and pain. He wasn’t sure how to help her earn that kind of money.
    â€œThe job is yours, Josie,” he said gruffly. “For as long as you need it.”
    And that was all he could promise.
    J OSIE FOUGHT THE tears. He’d given her what she needed—­a job. She’d found a way to earn money that didn’t involve babysitting. With her resume, and in the current job climate, it felt like a miracle.
    But she’d secretly hoped to earn her position. Prove herself. Instead, she’d hidden from her ex and spilled a tray of drinks followed by the truth. She told him about Morgan, the baby she’d named after her late mother when she still had a sliver of hope he’d survive.
    And Noah had handed her the job.
    â€œI should get out there,” she said, and by some miracle her voice sounded even, almost normal.
    â€œYou don’t have to finish your shift. Your dress is still wet and . . .”
    â€œAnd I look like I’ve been crying? I can fix my makeup in the bathroom. Plus, you handed me a new waitress uniform.” She held up the shirt and forced a smile.
    â€œNo.” He shook his head. “I gave you something to cover you up when you walked to your car.”
    â€œBut it’s crowded out there.” She pulled the shirt over the vodka-­soaked material clinging to her boobs like a second skin. She tied the excess fabric in a knot at her back. The T-­shirt looked cute, as if she’d planned a retro look with a black miniskirt.
    â€œWe’ll manage,” he said. “You can come back tomorrow.”
    â€œBut I’m here now.” She placed her hands on her hips. Sparring with him felt good. In the past eighteen months since she’d left the intensive care unit to bury her baby instead of raise him, she’d discovered she could only stomach so much pity. She didn’t want any more than he’d already offered—­a simple “I’m sorry.” Pity didn’t change the past or pay her bills.
    â€œIt’s only what, ten o’clock?” she continued. “You have hours before closing.”
    â€œThat T-­shirt will be soaked through soon,” he countered.
    â€œDamp. My dress was already beginning to dry. And maybe the customers will like seeing a picture of the old mechanical bull.”
    His gaze flickered to the picture on the T-­shirt. “Most of the ­people out there never saw it in action.”
    But she had—­the night she’d asked him to show her how to ride it. Sometimes she still dreamed about the feel of the bull moving beneath her, about Noah moving inside her . . .
    A knock sounded at the back door before she could find her next comeback. She’d been close to marching off to the bathroom, reapplying her makeup, and returning to work. They could argue while she served drinks and collected tips.
    â€œNoah?” The back door opened and Chad Summers poked his head inside.
    â€œYeah?” Noah called as he walked past her, heading for the rear exit.
    The door swung wide and Chad stepped in, followed by another man. They had the same facial features and tall, muscular builds, but the second man was fair-­skinned with bright red, curly hair.
    â€œSorry to interrupt.” Chad cast a curious glance at her. “But Josh just arrived. He was held up because he offered to swing by a tract of private land Moore Timber plans to clear-­cut. And he found a woman camping out. No car. Just a sleeping bag and pack.”
    Josh nodded and his red curls fell across his forehead. “I approached her and, dude, I could tell she’d been living out there for a while. When I talked to her, and basically told her she needed to leave before the crew moved in to harvest, hell, I half expected her to be one of those crazy environmentalists. But she said she was searching for a friend. Before