Home Town, page 1
part #1 of The Long Road Home Series
Home Town
The Long Road Home
Cat Johnson
Praise for Cat’s Titles in The Long Road Home Series
This kept me reading with just a couple of hours of sleep. Worth every minute!
Review for Home Front
Loved all the characters and small town friends-to-lovers story. Blessing is truly a blessing to all the books in this series…A winner for Cat Johnson.
Review for Home Coming
Great characters that you fall in love with.
Review for Home Fires
Home Town
The girl next door is all grown up—and she's still holding a grudge against the neighbor boy who broke her heart. Too bad he's the one man who can help her now…
* * *
Corey Jacobs is not a good man.
Not then when he was a local high school hockey star who took her V-card then left the state. Not now, ten years later when he’s returned to his tiny home town after an injury that could possibly rob him of his dog tags and his future.
Josie Baldwin would be lying if she didn't admit seeing him coming home broken didn't give her a little bit of satisfaction. After all, he broke her first.
The problem is since they're neighbors she's seeing him all too much. In the yard. Shirtless with his scarred muscles rippling.
In her dreams…
She despises that he lives next door, that memories of him live rent-free in her brain. And she really hates that every time she desperately needs help, which unbelievably happens more than once, he's the one who shows up.
However, nothing compares to the self-loathing that consumes her when he utters the words “good girl” and her rebellious desires ignite for the man who once broke her heart.
Damn her foolish desires!
Home Town is a small town love story that features one nerdy good girl, the bad boy next door who proved too tempting for her to resist, and old feelings that die hard, proving time can't heal all wounds, plus the mystery that brings them, unwillingly, back together.
Chapter One
“Josephine Adeline Baldwin--”
At the horrifying sound of her full name, in all of its Mom-and-Dad-named-me-after-both-grandmothers glory, Josie spun to glare at the man who’d been a thorn in her side for nearly three decades. Right from the moment she emerged from their mother’s womb.
With a voice that was low and filled with warning, she said, “Do you want me to whack you over the head with my laptop? Call me that again and I will gladly oblige.”
The warning only had her older brother Quinn, a Navy SEAL who’d probably enjoy some hand-to-hand combat training in the living room of the rented house they shared, grinning.
“I’d like to see you try. But what I’d really like is to know what has you grumbling and huffing and talking back to your laptop screen while I’m trying to watch TV?” He raised one dark brow where he sat on the sofa.
She let out an audible puff of air. Then scowled when she realized she’d just proven her brother right. She had been having a very one-sided argument with the content in her browser window during which she’d hurled insults at it and it had continued to ignore her.
Glancing up, she saw he was still patiently waiting for her to answer.
Damn the man! Nowadays he had the ability to be as cool as a cucumber on command when it came to the sibling spats between them.
Over their lifetime together she’d made it her goal to rattle him. It was her job as his little sister. And she used to be able to get him pissed off pretty regularly, which only made her want to do it more. And more. And more.
Then last year, through no effort on Josie’s part, Quinn had really lost his cool. It had been glorious to watch as he lost his shit when it came to their mutual friend Bailey and all the problems that had come with her sudden fame. The break-in at Bailey’s apartment, Bailey’s ex-boyfriend leaking her nude pics. And, not to be forgotten, the paparazzi camped outside their parents’ house…
All that, combined with Quinn’s inability to process that he might have actually succumbed to the dreaded L-word when it came to Bailey, had nearly driven him over the edge. It had been the most satisfying time of Josie’s life watching Quinn wrestle with his emotions.
But now that Quinn and Bailey were engaged and blissfully, euphorically, disgustingly happy, it was as if he’d become some sort of Zen master… Calm. Cool. Collected.
Or at least he was as long as the paparazzi following Bailey behaved themselves.
His eyes still on her now, Josie realized she might as well answer his question. In their staring contests of old, he’d always won.
Quinn was as stubborn as he was annoying. And apparently he had nothing else to do today but bother her. Bailey was safely at the salon getting highlights for the next three agonizingly long hours or so—which was one reason Josie’s own boring brown hair had never been and would never be highlighted. And nothing was going on with his team at the base in Coronado at the moment, so…
“Mom and Dad,” she said with another expulsion of air.
That cryptic explanation had even Quinn releasing a sigh. “What now?”
Josie turned to read straight from the caption of the Instagram post because he wouldn’t believe her, wouldn’t be able to comprehend the horror, wouldn’t share her misery, unless he heard it verbatim.
“The wife and I christened Rusty last night, if you know what I mean. Wink-wink. Glad we sprung for the upgrade on the mattress. #IYKYK”
She glanced up expecting to see an expression of abject horror, disgust and nausea on Quinn’s face to match her own. Then she frowned. He was fighting a smile.
“Why aren’t you shocked?” she demanded unable to comprehend he found this situation amusing.
“Oh, I am. Completely shocked that Dad’s hashtag game is so on point. Way better than mine actually.” Quinn chuckled.
“So you think this is okay?” She waved one hand to indicate the offending post on the screen.
Expending barely a modicum of effort, Quinn lifted one shoulder. “They’re in the perfect position to enjoy themselves. Empty nesters. Retired with no responsibilities. Reliving the honeymoon period. Let them have their fun.”
“Fine, have fun, but do they have to do it in public?” she asked, appalled.
“Don’t worry. Rusty has curtains. Mom posted a week’s worth of stories of her shopping trips to pick out just the right ones. They’re pinned in the RV Renovation highlights in case you missed it.” He grinned wider.
“Them having that kind of fun in full public view wasn’t what I was talking about and you know it. Their Instagram is just so… embarrassing.”
Even with their parents in New York and Josie, Quinn and Bailey living in California, her parental unit could still make her blush.
“This coming from the woman who makes a living by building websites and PR campaigns designed just to get people this exact kind of social media attention.” Quinn rolled his eyes.
“Yes, and it’s fine if a celebrity like Axel Black posts shit like this, but not Mom and Dad.” Josie had pulled out the one name she knew would wipe the smug look off Quinn’s face. That of Bailey’s shithead rocker ex-boyfriend.
Victorious, she noted how well her targeted torture had worked. Quinn narrowed his eyes at her, then pointedly turned his attention back to the television.
Motion on her screen caught her eye as another notification popped up.
Rusty the RV had a new post. Yes, her parents had created an Instagram account for the piece of crap 1990 Ford C-Class RV they’d bought last year to fix up because Dad needed a project after retiring.
They posted on it from the point of view of the vehicle, like Rusty was a person. And the worst part was, Rusty had nearly a hundred thousand followers.
Josie’s Instagram, which she used for her media company, had just broken twenty thousand. It was infuriating. Demoralizing. And just plain annoying.
Her parents’ honeymoon period was definitely not good for her mental health.
With another huff she was about to navigate away from the page and move on to tackling her inbox when she froze.
One comment on the post jumped out from among the rest.
More accurately, it was the name of the commenter that had caught her eye.
The rage just seeing that name instilled in her was enough to cancel out all the embarrassment over her father’s public social media announcement of their middle-aged coital RV romps.
“Freaking Corey Jacobs,” she growled the name to herself.
Of course, Quinn heard and commented, “There’s a name I haven’t heard in years. What about him?”
Her answer was a blue streak of obscenity-laden insults about Corey—Sidney High’s star hockey player. Hot guy and all-around bad boy. And, ten years later, still the bane of her existence. Her mortal enemy and her number one nemesis.
“Language,” Quinn said in an annoying imitation of their mother.
No wonder she wasn’t homesick since moving three thousand miles away. The way Quinn acted she might as well still be living at home with her parents.
She wondered what he’d do if he knew what Corey Jacobs was really like… and what Corey had done to her all those years ago.
“And what’s wrong with Corey?” Quinn continued, undeterred. “I never had any problems with him. Not at home or in school.”
“You wouldn’t.” She scowled.
Their neighbor was only dangerous to those of the female persuasion.
“Maybe you just didn’t know him as well as you thought you did,” she challenged.
Quinn shook his head. “He was a year behind me in school and we played hockey together for three years. You were only a sophomore when he graduated. I daresay I know him much better than you.”
Oh, how wrong he was.
Josie knew how Corey smelled. The feel of his weight on top of her. The taste of him…
What it felt like to have him walk away from her like she meant nothing…
No doubt, she definitely knew Corey better than her brother did. Only Quinn had no idea why.
Chapter Two
“What are you chuckling about over there, Jacobs?”
Corey shook his head and laid down his cell on the table in the galley of the aircraft carrier that had been his home-away-from-home for almost five months. “Nothing. Just my neighbor from where I grew up—”
“In Bumfuck, New York,” Jones supplied for clarification.
“We can’t all be from Chicago, Jonesy, but yes, in upstate New York.” Corey rolled his eyes. “Anyway, my old neighbor retired and he and his wife bought this retro RV. From their Instagram it looks like they’re having a ball fixing it up.”
Jones’s eyes widened. “That’s what you’re using what little WiFi we have for? To check out your old-as-fuck Boomer neighbors’ Insta?”
Corey snorted. “Jonesy, we’re on the mess deck. What would you rather have me do with the WiFi? Watch porn?”
“I check in with my girl,” Jones answered.
Hawkeye let out a guffaw. “Isn’t that the same thing?”
“Fuck you.” Jones accompanied that with a hearty shove of his shoulder against Hawkeye seated on the bench next to him.
“Right backatcha.” The recipient of the assault didn’t seem phased as he grinned.
“Hey, how about we all just be grateful that our captain is letting us have WiFi access at all? I heard the poor bastards on the destroyers don’t have internet. The vessel doesn’t have the bandwidth or some shit like that,” Rabbit pointed out.
“Or maybe it’s just ours is the superior vessel,” Jones countered.
“Of course it is. Give me an aircraft carrier over a destroyer any day. Those things are cramped as fuck.” Hawkeye shook his head.
“But smaller vessel, smaller crew. It’s more like a family.” Rabbit’s sunshiny comment earned him a raised brow from Corey, who had to agree with Hawkeye about his preference for an aircraft carrier over a destroyer.
“I’ve already got too big of a family. Don’t need any more,” someone down the table joked amid chuckles of agreement.
“But a destroyer can pull pier side in the smaller ports. We have to anchor way out,” Rabbit piped in with that fact, lest they forget.
Hawkeye let out a snort. “Fuck this carrier-versus-destroyer debate. After no days off and no port calls for more than four months, shore side sounds pretty damn good to me. I don’t care how we get there.”
Jones nodded. “Yeah, I have to agree. I wouldn’t even mind a cross-country road trip in Jacobs’ neighbors’ Boomer RV. Just me and my girl on the open road. Pull over for some lovin’ wherever whenever we want. Stop for the night, maybe by the ocean. Fall asleep to the sound of the waves. Wake up to the seagulls and some sweet, sweet morning sex. Have coffee outside sitting in the sand.”
Hawkeye shook his head. “You’re nuts. Give me a first-class plane ticket and a luxury hotel where I can wake up to room service.”
Apparently his mess mates could—and happily would—argue about anything and everything.
Corey listened to the debate going on but didn’t weigh in. Let them fight it out. It wasn’t like any of them were getting out of there anytime soon. Their next five months were clearly planned out by the US Navy and those plans didn’t include any sort of road trip. No RVs. No luxury hotels. No beach vacation, even if there was plenty of water surrounding the US sailors and their British allies who were part of the Carrier Strike Group.
They were needed right where they were. At sea.
Corey, as an aerial vehicle operator, was tasked with locating the Houthis who were targeting commercial ships in the region.
By studying the surveillance images being sent back from the drone he operated, he could achieve his goal of detecting and intercepting whatever the Houthis decided to throw at the vessels before they could do any damage.
Life on board for him as a drone operator consisted of trying to sleep during the day and conversely be sharp and focused while staring at monitors for eight hours while on duty each night. Both tasks were counter to what his body wanted to do.
They’d operated at a constant combat pace for months. All without days off or ports of call. But the attacking Houthis didn’t seem to care about the challenges levied on the personnel of the fleet and vessels who were tasked with defending commercial ships using the busy trade route.
Corey had lost track of how many Houthi drones they’d destroyed before they hit the vessels traveling through the Strait of Hormuz chokepoint between the Red Sea and the Gulf of Aden.
He glanced at the watch on his wrist to check the time. Habit since he didn’t have his cell phone with him except during his off hours when he could log into WiFi to check for news from home.
He had just enough time before he had to report for his shift to stow the cell in his bunk and down an energy drink. He’d finished his meal and he was more than done with the petty bickering between his shipmates so it was definitely time to head out.
Standing, Corey was about to take his leave when the air of the mess deck reverberated with the sound of an alarm.
“Incoming unmanned surface vessel!”
Adrenaline and training kicked in as the message repeated.
They’d prepared for this but that made it no less of a threat to the vessel. USVs could carry larger explosive payloads than an aerial weapon, striking at the waterline with great potential for damage.
And wouldn’t you know it, the mess deck was located on the second deck which was, coincidentally, just at the water line.
Fuck.
Boots pounded on metal as alarms continued and the crew responded, racing to battle stations.
But before Corey could reach his assigned position, before he could even brace for the impact, the world around him exploded with a sudden, deafening, violently intense blast that sent his body air born in the tight space.
Then it all went completely dark.
Chapter Three
“Josie?” Her mother’s voice came through the earpiece loud and clear—while also sounding clearly surprised.
Why was that? Besides the fact that Josie hated talking on the phone and avoided answering calls whenever possible. Why didn’t people just message? She gave her mother a pass on that. Gen Xers, Boomers, none of those older generations ever changed and she wasn’t about to waste her time trying.
Josie didn’t question her mother’s surprise. She had a feeling she wouldn’t like the response. Instead she said flatly, “Hello, Mother.”
“Hmm. I’m surprised you answered,” her mother said, confirming Josie’s original suspicions.
Knowing she’d regret it, she asked, “And why is that?”
“It’s early out there. I figured you’d still be sleeping—”
Then why the hell had she called?
“I know how you like to stay up late doing…whatever for half the night,” her mother continued.
Josie had been up late last night but she wasn’t doing whatever, as her mother had insinuated.
She’d been finishing up the final details on the website for a music client who decided to drop their tunes a week early. And having to shore up another client’s security and firewall in response to a brute force attack.
In spite of having too few hours sleep, she was up early now to finish up a digital marketing plan for a new client. But did she get credit for any of that? Or even the benefit of the doubt?
Nope.
Her entire family assumed she was a lazy bum. Yes, sometimes she slept until noon— because she’d worked all night. Yes, most days she was in PJs or sweatpants—it was what she considered one of the top perks of working for herself from home.
