Page 23 of Mixing Temptation (Second Shot 3)

She glanced at him over her shoulder, her lips lined with white icing from the roll, and he thought what the hell? Second chances were for going after the girl who made him feel like he’d found his future, right? And if he was open and honest with her, if he took his time, they could make this work. Sure, her problems were big. But he refused to believe this—­them, together—­was destined for failure.

With his arms still wrapped around her waist, he hugged her close. His lips grazed her ear. “I don’t give a damn if Noah loosens up. But I enjoy seeing you like this. Relaxed. Carefree. Whenever you’re ready for that third date, just say the word.”

She licked the icing off her lips. And yeah, there was no way she’d missed the large, imposing fact that she’d turned him on. His dick was close to bursting out of his jeans and begging for entry into hers.

“I have a dinner break before my evening shift,” she said. “Five o’clock.”

“I’ll be here.”

CAROLINE PUSHED THROUGH the swinging door and tried to school her expression.

Don’t think about Josh.

If she started skipping through the bar with a rack full of clean glasses while remembering how he felt pressed up against while she sat on his lap—­large and eager—­she would draw attention.

Her chin dipped to her chest and her shoulders hunched forward as if trying to make herself disappear. She stole a sideways glance at the nearly empty barroom. No one was looking at her. The small groups of college and grad students hadn’t stopped midsentence to wonder who the woman with the dishes was.

AWOL. Outlaw. Fugitive.

Pushing past her comfort zone didn’t change the fact that those labels hovered over her. They rose up like a solid brick barrier to a long-­term relationship with Josh. Part of her ached to reach the third date and beyond, but after that . . .

Josh wanted the massive timber-­frame house on the hill, the loving marriage, and probably the two point five kids to complete the American dream. She didn’t hold that against him. She believed in that vision of Americana bliss. She’d fought to keep that hope alive. Or at least that was why she’d joined up. She’d wanted to be one of The Few. The Proud. The Brave . . .

But it didn’t feel very brave to fight her commanding officer for her sense of dignity, for her right to dictate who touched her and how. And she wasn’t proud of the fact that she’d lost that battle.

The familiar tension rose up and pulled at her shoulders, threatening her nerves. She’d spent most of the week thinking about her dates with Josh. The way he’d teased her at the end of that first night when they’d pulled up to Noah’s childhood home, now her sanctuary . . .

Do you think you won a rose?

He tossed the question out there. She’d turned the tables and tossed it right back at him. He hadn’t laughed at the idea that other men would fight for the chance to date her. He’d simply said yes.

But her life wasn’t a reality TV show. They could have dozens of heart-­to-­heart conversations and when they finally moved passed kissing, when they finished the striptease they’d started in his apartment, she might leave the ghost of her bravery behind and run.

She stumbled and nearly dropped the rack of glasses.

“Too many cinnamon rolls?” Dominic asked.

“Josh baked and I missed it?” Lily turned to her boyfriend. “And you didn’t save one for me?”

Dominic shook his head as he lifted the slab of wood that kept the patrons on their side of the bar. “Can’t have you admiring another man’s buns even if they’re made of cinnamon and sugar.”

Dominic and Noah appeared at her side both reaching for the rack of clean dishes. But she held tight, glancing from one man to the other. “It takes two of you to handle a dozen customers?” she challenged. “Or are you waiting around to give Josh a hard time again?”

“Ryan’s stopping by with Helena,” Dominic said as he plucked the rack from her arms and turned back to the bar.

Caroline took a step back. She wasn’t eager for more getting-­to-­know-­you chitchat with an officer who lived and breathed the world she’d left behind.

“Helena was his best friend since they were in kindergarten,” Noah explained. “She wasn’t able to make the wedding. Something to do with her husband’s prior commitments, but she’s in town for a quick visit and wanted to stop by.”

“I’m so glad Ryan talked her into a trip. I haven’t seen her in years,” Lily mused. “I know she wanted to get far, far away from her mom’s farm, but it’s like she moved to California and never looked back.”

“You don’t need to worry about her, Caroline,” Noah added. “She was always a little wild and never played by the rules. The cops in this town are probably still looking for Helena in connection to half a dozen pranks.”

“Helena’s a lot of fun,” Dominic added as he pulled glass after glass from the rack and arranged them in a neat line. “We used to go four-­wheeling out on her mother’s farm.” He glanced over his shoulder. “You would have had fun if you’d joined us, Lil.”

Lily gave a fake shudder. “Getting covered in mud was never my idea of a good time. Unlike Helena, I didn’t want to find clumps of hay in my hair the next day.”

“I would have helped you wash your hair, Lil,” Dominic drawled.

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