Stirring Attraction by Sara Jane Stone Page A

“But he’s more stubborn than the trees he fells.”
    â€œWe’re friends,” Caroline said. But Lily could see the hint of doubt in the other woman’s eyes.
    â€œJosh’s brothers are tired of eating his pies so he brings them here,” Caroline continued. “Baking helps with his memory. He was in a logging accident a while back. He was hit in the head and lost his short-­term memory.”
    â€œIf he just needs to keep his mind sharp, he could pick up Sudoku,” Noah muttered.
    â€œThere are some fears not even you can protect me from, Noah,” Caroline said simply.
    Noah sighed. “Yeah, I’ve received that message loud and clear.”
    Lily studied the woman she’d asked to act as her bodyguard last night. Caroline seemed so bold, ready to jump into action, throwing pies or shooting guns. What was she afraid of?
    â€œDid it help? Having Dominic parked outside?” Josie asked, steering the conversation away from her mysterious coworker.
    â€œYes.” Lily headed for the front door leading to the parking area. “But I’m not sure it’s good for him. If he wanted to be here, he would have come home a while ago.”
    â€œSometimes it’s hard to think of home as the best place to lick your wounds,” Josie said softly.
    And Lily knew she spoke from experience. Once upon a time, Josie Fairmore had been Forever’s bad girl. She’d left. And she’d stayed away even when she needed help. Lily didn’t know the full story. But she’d heard enough.
    â€œJosie, I know you think that maybe he will stay for me. But I don’t want him to,” Lily said flatly. “I’m not interested in being his consolation prize. I don’t want him camped outside my front door, thinking ‘I could be out there freeing the world from terrorists, but instead I’m helping my ex-­girlfriend face her supposedly imaginary fears.’ I don’t need him making the dark a little less scary.”
    Liar.
    Because I know the threat is still out there.
    â€œNow if you don’t mind saving your drink lessons for another day,” Lily said, opening the door, “I need to paint my nails and get ready for my date.”
    L ILY CLOSED HER front door behind the man she would never marry and turned the lock. She stared at her burgundy-­red nails.
    I should have learned how to make a martini instead. Shaken, not stirred.
    Or maybe she’d prefer the hard liquor swirled together? She didn’t know and she wasn’t about to find out. Because tonight she planned to drown her sorrows in wine the color of her fingernails.
    She headed for the bottle-­lined rack that she’d added to her parents’ living room after her mother passed away and her father moved out. The top shelf held a selection of Oregon pinot noirs from a “girlfriends” winery tour she’d taken with some of her fellow teachers.
    Those same friends had slipped away, retreating into their own busy lives after she’d been attacked. Oh, they’d helped at first, dropping off food and staying to talk for a while. But they’d stopped calling as the summer went on and she stayed at home, more and more convinced someone would hurt her.
    Except Noah and Josie. They’d practically broken down the door to talk to her. But they hadn’t wanted to make small talk. Noah and Josie had offered her a job. They’d begged for her help. Pour beer. Open wine bottles. Offer shots. Maybe mix a simple drink or two while Noah’s regular part-­time bartender took a two-­week trip to Hawaii. Not one mention of tossing Dominic into the mix.
    She withdrew a bottle and headed for the archway leading to the kitchen.
    Knock. Knock.
    She froze, her grip tightening around the bottle’s neck. She could use it to hit the person on the other side of the door over the head . . .
    â€œI know you’re in there,”