His Perfect Match

Military commander Jack Sullenberger is used to saving the day. But when his father has a stroke in his beloved small-town diner, it’s waitress and EMT student Olivia Abbott coming to the rescue. Jack rushes home to tend to his father and take over the business—running right into Olivia’s very strong opinions. The steely military man and the waitress can’t agree on what’s best for the restaurant. When Jack sees something that shakes his growing trust in Olivia, their undeniable connection is put to the test. But if Jack’s open to the truth, they’ll have a chance at finding a future together.

“I’ll back off on inserting my opinions,” Olivia promised. “Provided I still have a job.”

Jack’s lip twitched, as if he were about to crack a smile. “I haven’t fired anyone. Yet.”

Jack stared at her. He leaned back, rubbing his thumb and forefinger along his lower lip, studying her in that calculating way of his. Shook his head. Leaned forward, steepled his hands and released a breath before raking all ten fingers through his buzz, which looked more light brown than dark blond, as it had in Sully’s photos. “You are one stubborn broad.”

She burst out laughing because he’d muttered it mostly to himself. And because it was true.

His eyes lit at her laughter and for a moment she felt frozen in time. He was drop-dead gorgeous even when he scowled like his father, but with his finely chiseled face all loose in laughter like that, he was finer than fine.

She needed to shore up her resistance. She couldn’t be attracted to him. That enamoredness would fade soon. It had to. Trusting was too dangerous a journey to embark on.

USA TODAY bestselling author and RN CHERYL WYATT writes romance with virtue themed with rescue. She’s a grateful worshipper of Jesus. She’s also a mom, a wife, and a wrangler of words and spoiled Yorkies. She loves readers and cherishes interaction at facebook.com/cherylwyattauthor or through email at cheryl@cherylwyatt.com. View her book list and join her newsletter at cherylwyatt.com.

The Hero’s Sweetheart

Cheryl Wyatt

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Be strong and take heart,

all you who hope in the Lord.

—Psalms 31:24

To Dad.

Semper Fi.

You have always been a hero

and I’m proud to call you my dad.

Acknowledgments

I would like to thank the wonderful community of readers who hang out with me on my Facebook page. Your presence, support, encouragement, prayers and interaction mean so much. I absolutely love the story feedback you give. You make writing fun!

Thanks also to Elizabeth Mazer, editor extraordinaire. You are brilliant and talented and I feel so blessed to be working with you. Thank you for giving life to Sully and Olivia through story.

As always, to my family for allowing me to do this and for cheering me on.

Thank you, Father God, for knowing what we need even more than we do. You always come through.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

Acknowledgments

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Dear Reader

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Please don’t let this be what I think it is...

“Sully, can you speak?” Even as Olivia Abbott asked her boss the question, his drooping mouth confirmed what her gut already knew. Thankfully she’d learned stroke symptoms this week in EMT class.

“Call 9-1-1!” she directed Patrice, her roommate and a fellow server at Sully’s Diner.

“What’s wrong with him?” Sully’s assistant cook, Darin, carefully helped Olivia lower Sully to the floor beside the food prep counter.

Naem, pulling double duty as server and dishwasher since Perry hadn’t shown for his shift again, skidded around the corner. Naem, normally a perpetual grinner, gasped when he saw Sully on the floor. Due to the diner’s open floor plan, customers began to notice the activity in the kitchen.

“I think he’s having a stroke,” Olivia whispered low enough that Sully couldn’t hear.

Darin leaped up and, upon entering the adjacent seating area, yelled for help clearing space. After calling 9-1-1 Patrice calmed customers, many of whom jumped in to help Darin move tables and chairs for the first responders. Sizzling sounded as Naem scraped burning food off hot grills.

Please help the ambulance hurry, Olivia prayed as Sully’s breathing grew more labored. An EMT student working her way through school by waitressing at the Eagle Point eatery part-time, she suddenly realized that knowing too much automatically gave fear an advantage over her faith.

Sully had an epic reputation for being grumpy but he was the only decent father figure she’d had in her life. He couldn’t die on her. Just couldn’t.

“Help will be here soon, Sully. I promise.”

With his head in her lap, Olivia could see frustration and confusion on his face, and white whiskers he’d missed while shaving. He was meticulous about employees’ hair being groomed—he’d obviously not been feeling well this morning. Come to think of it, he’d looked pale and fatigued at the employee Valentine’s Day party this past weekend. He’d probably been too stubborn to say something.

Sirens whined in the distance, coming closer. Olivia murmured soothing words to Sully. She was thankful that he’d finally given in to her pestering about having a relationship with God. He had not only started attending her church two months ago, but he’d given his life to the Lord. She hoped he wouldn’t need that Heavenly ticket yet.

Patrice, teary-eyed, her lips trembling, knelt next to Olivia and rested her hands over Sully’s and Olivia’s. “We need to notify his son, Jack. The contact information is probably in Sully’s cell phone. I’ll take care of calling if you want.”

“Yes, please.” Olivia knew about Sully’s only offspring, Jack Sullenberger, a career Air Force man in Afghanistan whom she’d seen pictures of and heard stories about but never met. She knew Sully missed his boy.

Please, Sully. Hold on and you’ll get to see the son you’re so proud of.

Patrice retrieved Sully’s phone from his office and made the promised call. No answer. She texted. Many moments later Patrice hurried back from Sully’s office, phone in hand. “Jack texted back. Said they’re going to try to get him on the first flight home.”

Tears of relief pricked Olivia’s eyes and joy welled as she recalled Sully’s mile-wide smiles as he told story after story of Jack—it had assured them of Sully’s soft side. Jack the bubbly baby. Jack the toddler, into everything. Jack the mischievous lad. Jack the thoughtful teen. Jack the lady-killer young man. Jack the accomplished military leader.

“Jack should be on his way home soon,” Olivia reassured Sully, hoping to help him hold on. She saw a glimmer in Sully’s eyes with that. So she scrambled for something else to say about Jack. “You think he’s as handsome in person as he is in Sully’s pictures, Patrice?”

Patrice caught on to what Olivia was doing. “I know he is. I grew up across the street from him. The girls on my cheerleading squad used to fight over who got to come push-mow our lawn just to glimpse him shooting hoops shirtless. By all accounts he’s even better looking now. He had looks and personality. Sweet as could be. Stayed out of trouble and tried to keep the rest of us out of it, too. A true hero, even back then.”

Sully’s breathing settled, so their chatter about Jack soothed him. Having seen Sully’s photos of the striking man, Olivia knew Patrice wasn’t exaggerating.

Sully’s unsteady gaze traveled urgently to the kitchen, where Naem was keeping everything going on his own, then back to Olivia and Patrice. Olivia knew he was fretting about customers, business and keeping it all afloat.

“Don’t worry about anything except getting better, Sully. We got this,” Olivia assured.

“Yeah,” Patrice added. “Jack worked this place in high school. He’ll help us out again.”

The look on Sully’s face would have been comical if he weren’t in the throes of a life-threatening emergency. “We’re sure you’re gonna be fine, Sully, but someone’s gotta help run this kitchen while you’re holed up in that hospital. Besides, I hear Jack can flip a mean burger.”

Sully relaxed and became less agitated. The EMTs arrived and administered oxygen and meds. Olivia soaked in every nuance of everything they said and did for future reference. She had always been drawn to the excitement of emergencies and trauma care. But it was a whole different experience when the victim was someone she knew.

She needed to find someone to cover the rest of her shift so she could go with Sully to the hospital. Without her, they’d have to close the diner, and that would mean vital revenue lost. She’d be able to sit with Sully tomorrow before her clinical EMT intern shift at Eagle Point Trauma Center, but she needed to be with Sully now, too.

Once on the sidewalk in February’s blistering cold wind, the EMTs closed the ambulance doors just as it began to rain. Olivia’s silver stud bracelet jangled as Patrice squeezed Olivia’s hand. “I know how close you two are, Olivia. Go with Sully. Me, Darin and Naem will keep things running here.”

Olivia’s tears joined the rain splatters on the sidewalk soaking her rock-and-roll-style boots, but she didn’t care. “Are you sure?” Olivia asked.

“Positive. I’ll get Jack your number so you can keep him updated, if that’s all right?”

“That would be fine. Thank you.” She hugged her friend, grabbed her bag from inside the diner and bolted to her clunker. She flipped her wipers on high but the blades barely sluiced the rain off her windows. She pulled out after the ambulance and found the thwip-thwap of her wipers calming. Until the ambulance sped up. She did her best to safely keep up until they switched to full lights and sirens one block later. Her chest tightened, making Olivia wish she had her asthma inhaler.

As tears spilled down her cheeks, she knew that Sully’s life was in grave danger, and that she might never see the light of life in his eyes again.

Dear Jesus, please have mercy on those of us who still need him here.

* * *

He didn’t need this.

Jack Sullenberger searched the trauma center corridors for room 127. He’d just gotten the latest text from one of Dad’s employees—a lady named Olivia—who’d graciously kept him informed over the past thirty hours of traveling.

Thankfully he’d been able to leave Afghanistan the day he’d learned of Dad’s stroke. Despite that, it had still taken more than a day to get home. Thirty sleepless, agonizing hours filled with more worry and fear than he’d ever felt in his life, despite serving four back-to-back tours as a Security Forces officer and combat medic in some of the most dangerous war zones in the world.

Whoever this Olivia lady was, he was going to hug her when he saw her, to thank her for staying by Dad’s side, talking Jack through medical updates and relaying his decisions to doctors. Eagle Point had no hospital, but the new Eagle Point Trauma Center had an extended-stay wing for situations such as Dad’s where the patient was over the initial danger but not stable enough yet to transfer.

Jack rounded a corner and almost plowed into a nurse who stepped aside and motioned him into room 127. The mysterious phone woman—Olivia—had already prepared him for the fact that his dad was still unable to speak. As an Air Force medic, he’d known what the symptoms meant.

Jack parted the curtain and stepped into the room to find a short, pixie-haired waif staring at his dad as if he’d shatter if she blinked. She looked more like she belonged on the cover of a punk-rock magazine than beside a hospital bedside. The scene shocked him so much he froze in place and frowned while his mind tried to work out who she was and why she was here. His jet-lagged brain struggled to process the incongruity between her edgy appearance and her deeply empathetic eyes.

And then she looked up.

Jack’s breath hitched. Pretty would be an understatement. Stunning? Close, but still not strong enough. Shimmery sapphire eyes shone starkly against alabaster skin, spiky-cropped raven hair and—Jack leaned in to get a better look under subdued light—purple lipstick? What kind of person walked into an emergency hospital with intentionally cyanotic-looking lips?

This could not be the soft-spoken Olivia.

Then again, her presence at his father’s side suggested otherwise.

Okay, so maybe he wouldn’t hug her after all. She looked not so approachable with her nose and ears riddled with piercings, bold makeup, chains for a necklace and a tattoo snaking up the side of her neck. Not to mention her off-limits body language and untrusting eyes as they zeroed in on him approaching the bed. Her rocker-chick look sat at serious odds with the sweet voice that had literally kept him sane and calm on the phone during the last thirty hours.

Her slight smile slid into a frown, prompting Jack to shake off his dismay and find his manners.

“Olivia?” Maybe this wasn’t her.

The tiny smile swept one side of her mouth up as she nodded briefly before gazing back at the bed. Distress entered her eyes. He knew the feeling and dreaded facing the hard sight cradled within her eyes.

He’d put the inevitable off long enough. Resisting reality never made it go away. Reluctantly, he forced his gaze off the floor and brought it slowly to the bed.

Dad.

Jack swallowed hard as he approached the frail-looking man engulfed by a huge, flimsy hospital gown. Jack reached through the side rail, took his dad’s hand and squeezed. Emotion clogged his throat and an invisible grenade detonated inside his chest. He swallowed but the lump in his throat refused to move. “Dad, I’m—” was all he could manage before his throat clogged again. He was what? Sorry he hadn’t been here? Sorry he might be too late? Sorry for deploying for another tour? His father looked so weak, so frail, so close to death.

“Sully, Jack’s here,” Olivia finished for him. Maybe she picked up on Jack’s fear because her face softened measurably, then her tense mouth molded into a smile. Wary of giving trust, Jack felt his muscles tighten with the typical guardedness he’d had to develop while working in a war zone amid enemies who sometimes posed as friends. Not wanting to be rude, Jack forced a mannerly smile but it felt thin and strained.

Nonetheless, the chill in her eyes thawed by several degrees as she said, “The doctor says since he got here so fast he’ll likely make a full recovery with help from physical, speech and occupational therapy.”

The tank sitting on Jack’s chest eased off a bit, allowing his voice to come back. “That’s good.” Relief was an understatement for the way her words made him feel, delivered in the same velvet voice that had kept him calm from one continent to another all the way here.

“Dad, all the guys in my unit said to hurry and get well soon or they’re gonna come kick your caboose.” He rubbed his dad’s hand, longing with all his heart to feel a squeeze back.

He knew that even though Sully slept under medical sedation and stroke aftereffects, he’d likely still be able to hear, since hearing was the last sense to go. Olivia seemed to know that, too. Actually, based on their phone conversations, Jack assumed she’d had medical training of some sort.

He caught and held her gaze. “Thank you, miss, for everything. Most of all, for recognizing what was happening, relaying it to doctors and for getting him help so fast.”

She blushed. “Thanks, but it was a team effort.” Her shy motions and soft demeanor juxtaposed with her spiky sense of fashion. Upon deeper observation, her intelligent eyes projected a strong will and an expression daring anyone to try and cross it.

She wore a black T-shirt overlaid with a gothic cross in gray graphics. White low-rise jeans sported a black patent leather belt with silver studs. Big triangle earrings and combat-style boots completed her ensemble. Somehow, it worked for her.

And surprised him with its appeal.

She must’ve noticed his assessment of her because her eyebrows drew down in a scowl. Not the usual female reaction, for sure.

He found her response refreshing, but he was irritated by his own intrigue, especially since he didn’t know or therefore trust her true motives for being here. He courteously moved his perusal from the mysterious and mesmerizing creature and shifted his gaze to the drip rate of his dad’s intravenous solution and scanned numbers on the machines, glad to see stable vital signs despite Dad’s horrible pale color.

“They think he had an undiagnosed heartbeat irregularity.” Her brows knit. “I’m not far enough into EMT school to know which kind, but they seemed to think it would be easy to treat.”

Jack nodded, deeply appreciative of the information. He’d explain heart rhythms to her in a less intense moment. For now, he needed time with his dad, preferably alone. He needed to say some things and didn’t want an audience. His apology was going to be hard enough without a stranger hearing him acknowledge his mistakes in not being here and for being a medic yet not realizing Dad was ill. They video chatted almost nightly. He should’ve noticed something was wrong. He peered at Olivia but she hadn’t budged. In fact she didn’t seem the slightest bit inclined to leave.

“I’m sure you have things to do, Miss... I didn’t catch your last name?”

“Abbott, and I have nothing more important to do.”

Jack shifted to capture her gaze but she seemed even more determined to avoid his eyes. “Thanks, ma’am, but I’ve got this. You may go now.”

Her dark eyebrows slid into a sharp V and her lips pursed. “I’m fine right here, thanks.”

Jack had never felt more territorial and annoyed in his life. He was a longtime military leader accustomed to people following his orders without hesitation.

How could this waif of a waitress not get that he wanted her to leave?

She wasn’t family. She had no right to be here. Why’d she think she did? It irritated Jack to no end.

As if sensing Jack’s thoughts, Olivia narrowed her eyes in a challenge that said if he wanted her gone, he was going to have to physically carry her out.

He was tempted.

Releasing Dad’s hand, he marched around the bed. “It wasn’t a suggestion, Miss Abbott. I’d like time with my dad. Alone.”

She scowled at first, but slowly the tenseness left her shoulders as she studied his face. Then she nodded. She grabbed her gunmetal-gray purse, studded down the sides, leaned over, brushed a gentle hand along his dad’s face and said, “Sully, I’ll be back tomorrow. Jack will hold vigil until then.” Then she slipped out of the room avoiding Jack’s gaze.

“I’m walking Miss Abbott out, Dad. Be right back,” Jack said, following her.

Once in the hallway, she turned to face him. “I realize this is the first time you’ve seen your father in person in a while. You’re entitled to want time alone with him. I was out of line.”

He studied her face like a war map. “Yet you still seem angry about having to leave.”

She started to say something then bit her tongue. “He needs someone there. It’s your place, not mine. So go back in.” She paused to peer back into his dad’s room.

A look that Jack could only describe as terror flashed across her face before calm funneled back into her expression. Then she turned without another word and strode away. Jack realized that she was scared to leave his dad. He considered calling her back but then came to his senses. This was a family matter.

This regret was his reckoning. He should have spent time with his dad while he had the chance. But the fact that Sully survived this stroke meant Jack was looking his second chance right in the face. No one was going to take that from him.

Suspicions surfaced as to why Olivia didn’t want to leave him alone with Sully. Malevolent ones. Who was she anyway? He didn’t know her or her integrity. His dad tended to be too trusting. Jack had never abused his hard-won authority but Miss Abbott, her initial stubbornness, spike-tipped tongue and his twenty total minutes of sleep in three days were driving him to the edge of reason. But hopefully this power struggle between them was a temporary glitch caused by stress and mutual concern for Sully, and would resolve when he stabilized.

A mobile phone chirped from the windowsill. Jack rushed to silence it since his dad was sleeping soundly rather than fitfully now. Upon further inspection, Jack realized this was his dad’s new phone. The caller ID said Eagle Point Bank. Jack stepped outside and called them back, introducing himself as Sully’s son, explaining that Dad was in intensive care and that Jack had power of attorney.

What he heard next made Jack want to hurl what little food he’d had.

“You’re sure about this?” Jack asked the bank officer who’d just explained how deep in debt the diner was, and how many foreclosure warnings the bank had already sent to Sully.

“I’m sorry, Jack. We’re sure. I may be able to get an extension before foreclosure proceedings begin, considering Sully’s precarious health. But I can’t guarantee it. Especially in light of how much grace has already been extended, and how many subsequent notifications and then demand letters our loan default officer has sent over the past year.”

“I understand. Just, yeah, see what you can do. Any kind of extension will help. I’ll go over the books and figure out what happened.”

Last he’d known, Dad had a cushion financially. What happened? How long had the diner been facing money trouble? Dad had probably kept his financial woes hidden from Jack, not wanting to worry him while he was off at war. His jaw clenched.

“I’ll do everything I can,” the bank contact stated. “Sully’s Diner is a city icon. We’d hate to see it disappear.”

Jack would hate it, too—Sully’s Diner had been in the family for three generations. “I appreciate the additional grace. Thanks.” He hung up and clamped a hand on the nape of his neck. He needed to stay with Dad but also needed to go to the diner and start scouring the books.

“Major General Sullenberger?”

Jack turned. A doctor who looked about Jack’s age—early thirties—approached with a smile and extended a hand. “I’m Dr. McLaren. I was here when your dad was brought here to EPTC. His last listed family doctor retired. I’m seeing him as a courtesy while he recovers. At least until we can transfer him to the stroke rehab wing at Refuge Memorial, one town over.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m thankful a trauma center was recently built here. Otherwise...” Jack didn’t need to finish. The sober look on the doctor’s face completed his thoughts. Had the trauma center not been close and Dad’s employees not gotten him help when they did, Sully may not be here. “I’m ashamed to admit I wasn’t aware of his doctor retiring, and I’m not sure why he never got a new doctor. Maybe if I’d known, this could have been prevented.” Guilt riddled Jack.

“It’s hard to say.” The doctor wrote something down on a pad and handed the page to Jack. “Here are some local doctors. One’s a military veteran, like your dad. He’ll need to have a primary care physician to follow up with as he progresses through all the poststroke therapy.”

Jack studied the list of four names and numbers. “I’ll make some calls and also see to it that he takes better care of himself.” As he said it, he knew that would be difficult if he returned overseas.

Jack had some hard decisions ahead.

“You look beat. You should go home for the night and sleep. We’ll call if anything changes. Right now, he’s stable and needs rest and quiet more than anything. As do you.”

Jack peered down the hall toward his dad’s door. He didn’t want to leave but knew the doctor was probably right on all counts. He nodded in resignation. “Okay.”

“Meanwhile, we have an Olivia Abbott listed as your dad’s emergency contact. Is that correct?”

What? Why Olivia? For sure, Jack needed to figure out why this Abbott woman was so entrenched in his dad’s life and business. “If you’d please change that to me, I’d appreciate it. I’m also his medical and legal power of attorney.” Jack gave the doctor his contact information. “I’ll be staying at his apartment above the diner.”

“Got it.” An overhead page called the doctor to another area of Eagle Point Trauma Center—EPTC. He gave Jack’s information to the nursing staff and jogged toward the stairs.

Jack returned to his dad’s hospital room to spend a few more moments with him before heading out. As he sat there, Jack wrestled with scenarios and hard questions, and a particular pixie face floated into his weary, wary mind.

Olivia Abbott, her soft voice at such odds with her edgy look, her tender affection toward his dad equally at odds with her ink-and stud-abraded skin. She was totally not his usual type.

And maybe that was exactly why he struggled to take his thoughts off her. But at this point, it was too early to tell whether he owed her an apology or a closer look in terms of her background and her motives. The doctor was obviously right. He needed rest. Sleep would rid him of the jumble of unexpected thoughts, fears, feelings, accusations and attraction ricocheting around his tired mind. Right now, his guardedness trumped anything else he might be feeling for Olivia Abbott. And he aimed to keep it that way.

Chapter Two

“So much for first impressions.”

Three days after Jack’s arrival, Olivia spread a vinyl tablecloth over the pinewood breakfast nook of the apartment she shared with Patrice. It was one of two units situated above the diner. The fact that work was literally downstairs was a huge blessing of convenience to Olivia—it made it easier for her to put in as many diner hours as she could between studying and classes and her intern shift at EPTC. Especially in light of the learning disability she kept hidden from others.

“Jack’s all bark and no bite. Don’t worry.”

“I don’t know, Patrice. He seems to get angrier by the day. He was in Perry’s face again this morning.”

Granted, she felt that was warranted, because Perry had cursed so loudly at the sinks, customers heard his rant in the dining room. She guessed Jack was also justified in telling Perry to text on his own time. However, threatening to run Perry’s phone through the dishwasher seemed a little extreme. Of course, that was after he’d already asked him multiple times to put his phone away and get to work unless on break.

“I realize he’s undoubtedly worried about his dad,” Olivia said. But there was more she wasn’t telling Patrice. Jack was fretting over the diner, too. Quite by accident, she’d caught bits of conversations he’d had with bankers and loan officers. She’d eventually moved the condiment filling station away from the office to keep from overhearing what should be a private business matter.

She wondered how much Sully knew of it. She’d appreciated Jack asking the bank people not to tell Sully how bad things were yet, so soon after his stroke. That the Sullenbergers were a well-respected family undoubtedly helped.

Patrice pulled out a small paintbrush. “He’s not himself, that’s for sure.”

“Sully or Jack?” Olivia teased, hoping to lift the melancholy cloud from Patrice’s eyes.

Patrice smiled. “Both.” She set a craft caddy on the tablecloth and grew serious. “It’s been so hard working in the diner without Sully there. Memories of him are everywhere.”

“True.” Emotions were high and Jack had been one to avoid. It was a little tough since he was staying across the hall in Sully’s apartment. Not that he was there much. He’d either been at the hospital or downstairs at the diner holed up in Sully’s office going over financial records. This afternoon, he’d emerged like a loaded tank looking for targets. He even seethed around Patrice, his pal since childhood. Not that Patrice seemed to notice—she was entrenched in another argument with her boyfriend, on par for their volatile relationship. “Still,” Olivia added, “he has one of the most intimidating personas I’ve ever encountered.” She’d tried her best to steer clear the past two shifts. That seemed to suit Jack just fine because he appeared to go out of his way to avoid her, too.

“The military must’ve changed him a lot. On the other hand, he was always one to stand up for others and act with honor and integrity.”

Olivia opened two packages of paints, one forest-colored and one in glittery jewel tones as Patrice set poster board on the tablecloth. “In fact, I can’t believe Jack made you leave the hospital that first night.”

“I can. He was bossy as all get-out.” Olivia held the glossy white cardstock in place while Patrice painted Get Well Soon, Sully onto the homemade card in beautiful flowing calligraphy.

They were making Sully a huge card for diner patrons and employees to sign. Patrice was a fantastic artist. If she’d ditch her oppressive boyfriend, her dreams of a graphic design career would surely come true.

Patrice dotted red glittery firework shapes along the card’s edge. “Take into account Jack was probably scared out of his wits and sleep-deprived from his cross-continental flight.”

Recalling the look on Jack’s face when he saw the shape his dad was in kicked Olivia’s conscience into gear. “You’re right. It must have been a shock.”

Patrice nodded and capped the red paint lid before opening the blue to create glittery sapphire stars. They’d chosen the colors in honor of Sully’s patriotic nature. His entire diner decor consisted of veteran and war memorabilia spanning decades, all the way up to the present.

Patrice switched to silver and painted swirly scrolls next to the stars. “I hope this cheers Sully up and shows him he’s well loved despite his being a grump.”

Olivia snickered. “At least we know where Jack got it from.”

Patrice giggled. Then frowned as a text notification came through her phone. “Uh-oh. Speaking of Jack...he’s calling a mandatory emergency employee meeting.”

Olivia’s pulse sped up. She had a busy week making up the clinical hours she’d missed while sitting with Sully. She also had classwork to catch up on and a huge medical research paper due soon. She couldn’t possibly fit one more thing into her week. “When?”

Patrice nibbled her thumbnail. “Not sure yet. He’s giving the time in a forthcoming text.”

“I wonder what the meeting’s about.” Olivia’s pulse ramped up even more. Were things at Sully’s bad enough financially that they were all going to be laid off, or worse, let go? “Patrice, I overheard Jack talking to the bank. I hope he’s not going to close the diner.”

Patrice blinked in surprise. “I can’t imagine. He practically grew up there. His childhood wasn’t easy. He spent more time at the diner with his dad than at home with his mom.”

It wasn’t Olivia’s business, but she couldn’t help but ponder why. She’d had a rough childhood herself and felt instant compassion for others with tough childhoods.

Patrice sighed as she completed the gorgeous card. “Jack was a good kid. A model child. Very compliant. And Sully was a model parent. He removed Jack from a volatile situation.” Patrice shook her head and seemed to snap out of her musings. “But I suppose that’s all Jack’s story to tell.”

Not that he would ever, in a trillion years, trust Olivia enough to feel comfortable sharing personal information. Everything about Jack Sullenberger screamed unscalable walls and immovable rules.

Why was it that something in her wanted to breach and break them all?

Olivia tried to imagine Sully’s struggle on behalf of his son, which led to thoughts of Jack as a boy and how hard that must’ve been. She didn’t know Jack’s story and may never.

However, she could relate to living in a troubled home. But unlike Sully, her dad had never fought for her, and knowledge of that always put a hard lump in Olivia’s throat.

Precisely why Olivia promised herself not to pursue relationships, but rather to secure a college degree and a career with which she could support herself for life. Not dating was easy, since she was so wary of men. The degree, however, was an uphill climb due to her dyslexia. But she refused to let it—or anything—stop her.

She was thankful Sully worked around her school and clinic hours to allow her adequate time to study. He was one of few people who knew about Olivia’s learning disability. Patrice, Darin and Naem were the others, but that was it. If anyone else found out—especially Jack—she’d be mortified.

She’d squirmed under the scrutiny of his gorgeous, gunmetal grays assessing her appearance at the hospital. His obvious shock at her style dinged her dignity and dented the armor of her hard-sought self-esteem. He was so strong and good-looking, his opinion mattered to Olivia more than it should. She didn’t like having to work so hard to not care what he thought of her.

“Naem told me this morning before the breakfast rush that Jack told him and Darin that he’s officially here on an extended military leave.”

“Until when?”

“I don’t know.” Patrice’s phone bleeped with another notification. Olivia blew on the card’s paint to get it to dry faster as Patrice read her text. “Oh, wow. He called the mandatory emergency staff meeting for tomorrow morning at seven.”

“Seven?” Olivia chirped. That would cut into her best sleep time. She worked the day shift at the diner, did evening EMT classes alternating every other day with clinical at EPTC and spent half the night studying until around two in the morning. She then slept until seven thirty, which was just enough time to roll out of bed, shower and dress before starting breakfast prep at the diner at eight. She’d been able to survive on so little sleep simply because she’d known she wouldn’t have to pull this schedule forever. Now Jack wanted to shake things up? Great.

He’d already upset her by sending her away from Sully. It still smarted that he’d made her leave and didn’t seem inclined to let her visit anytime soon. But that wedge was Jack’s doing and Olivia was struggling to have a right heart about it.

A band of tension tightened across Olivia’s shoulders, making it hard to breathe. She was already stretched to the max. Jack’s plans were bound to increase stress and decrease rest. How would she ever manage to comprehend past her dyslexia while running on fumes for sleep?

Olivia liked things at the diner just as they were. Sully was great about working around her school hours. She doubted, considering everything he was contending with, that Jack had the patience or presence of mind to do the same.

“You okay, Liv? You don’t look so good.”

Olivia didn’t have the energy to correct Patrice about the nickname she hated. “Feeling a little light-headed and wheezy.”

Patrice reached for Olivia’s asthma inhaler and popped the cap off. She rarely had a stress-induced attack, but this felt like one of those times. Desperately short of breath now, Olivia placed the oval in her mouth and pumped the prime twice, inhaling deeply each time. Once she could breathe unobstructedly and speak again, instead of clawing her collar away from her neck in air-hunger panic, she thanked Patrice, who asked what triggered her attack.

“Change. I don’t like the sound of it. Not at all.” Never had. And for good reason. In Olivia’s experience, change equaled something awful. It always meant moving from a bad situation to a worse one.

* * *

“Miss Abbott, you’re late.” Jack watched Olivia’s cheeks flush as she rushed around the table to the empty seat at the diner employee meeting the next morning.

Her face awash in a strong emotion he couldn’t decipher, he stared her down. Her scowl loosened and she promptly sat. “My apologies.”

“No explanation?”

She swallowed. Bit her tongue. Then she said, “None that you’d understand.” Her scowl tried its best to return but she fought it.

Wait. What did she mean he wouldn’t understand?

“That means?”

Now her scowl did return. She peered at the clock. “Please, if you don’t mind, we all have other places to be.”

He guessed she was right. And to credit her defense, he hadn’t given them much notice. He relented on ripping on her for being fifteen minutes late to what he’d hoped would only be a half hour meeting. He moved to stand at the head of the table in the staff break room and studied the group of a dozen or so employees. He met each gaze, finding himself irritated when Olivia intentionally looked away. As angry and flustered as she appeared, he half expected her to get up and walk out. Then he noticed something else. Dark, sunken eyes and drawn features. As if she hadn’t slept well, or maybe not at all.

He tore his gaze, and his compassion, away from her and faced the group. After all, if he got soft, they’d continue to run all over his dad...if he was ever able to take over again.

Until then, Jack would handle it. “Some things are going to change around here, now that I’m in charge.”

Jack watched Olivia stiffen at his mention of change. A pallor flushed the scorch out of her cheeks from when she’d sprinted in, windblown and breathless.

He knew the feeling. This was a big turning point for him, too—choosing to stay for an extended period of time in the town he’d avoided for so long.

“First order of business is—”

“Like, what kind of changes?” Perry, the dishwasher, interrupted Jack for the third time since he’d started the meeting.

Tired of the disrespect, Jack placed his palms flat on the table and leaned in, face-to-face with the young man. “For starters, you get fired if you pull a no-show again without calling in.”

Perry’s mouth dropped open. “Dude, that’s harsh.”

“Asking that you call if you’re not planning on showing up is not an unreasonable request. Furthermore, if you’re late more than three times in a pay period, you’re fired.” Jack didn’t give Perry a chance to launch another argument before pulling out the schedule.

Olivia visibly tensed. He peered at her, making sure she didn’t have something to say before he continued. “Miss Abbott? Did you have something to add?”

Her eyes scanned the schedule, then lowered. “No, sir.”

“Yet your body language states that you do.”

Hands formerly folded in her lap flew up past her shoulders. “Fine, I just know how Sully would want things done. He doesn’t believe in fixing something that isn’t broken and with the exception of a few glitches, the schedule works fine the way it is.”

Jack shook his head. “That may be the case, but we have lost too much revenue.”

She looked as though she didn’t know what that had to do with the schedule, but she’d find out soon enough.

Jack actually admired her pluck. Unlike Perry, she didn’t present as rude. Just strong in her conviction to stand up to him to defend what she thought his dad would want. A measure of admiration rose up in him but he quelled it in order to keep the meeting on track and be able to get them out of here. Their time was as valuable as his.

Several exchanges later, it became apparent to Jack that Olivia was not one to back down easily from something she believed in. Change was apparently not something she believed in.

However, she did apparently believe in trying his grace and patience to the max.

Tension bundled in the back of his neck and spread to his shoulders.

As though sensing his thoughts, she lifted her chin. “I’m only trying to help.”

Jack wasn’t so sure. She seemed bent on opposing him at every turn. Regardless, in light of the time crunch, he found himself increasingly irritated that she wasn’t simply taking orders. At least Perry had simmered down to a quiet sulk.

Hopefully Olivia’s spunkiness wouldn’t turn her into a troublemaker or drag things out here. Especially considering a fourth of them were working the morning shift today. Soon.

Choosing, for time’s sake, not to engage Olivia’s stubbornness, Jack spread the schedule out and clicked its identical image on his video presentation. “First order of business is cost control. Starting today, I want syrup and sugar shakers only half filled on tables. Ketchup and mustard will only be placed on tables when customers ask. We’ll also use—”

Olivia’s hand shot up.

Jack paused. “Yes, Miss Abbott?”

“I’m wondering how that will cut costs.”

“I was getting to that,” he said with more edge than he’d intended. “If the containers are full, customers will inadvertently use more.” It had worked in the service. He hoped customers would catch on. “We’ll also use cloth napkins instead of paper.”

Olivia raised her hand again. Jack fought irritation at the intrusion. “Yes?”

“Cloth napkins will need to be washed and dried. That will use electricity. Electricity costs money. Plus the water needed to wash the towels. And detergent. That costs money, too.”

“I’m well aware of the costs, Miss Abbott. I’m installing new efficient washers and dryers. If I’ve estimated correctly, cloth is far more cost effective. Especially since Eagle Point customers love to smuggle handfuls of our paper napkins out in their pockets and purses.”

She nibbled her lip but didn’t argue. Yet the expression on her face clearly said and you don’t think they’ll smuggle cloth napkins out, too? Cloth would be less of a temptation. Most customers would feel bad taking them home. Hopefully.

And just because he was irritated, Jack added, “Only fill the salt and pepper shakers halfway, as well. I’m also going to crack down on tardiness and missing food items. That means you will fill out inventory sheets each time you use something up. No more taking boxes of meat home,” he directed to Perry, whom he knew had taken a box for a barbecue and beer bash at his house and hadn’t paid for it. “Or any other food and supplies, for that matter. Taking something that’s not rightfully yours is considered theft and is grounds for termination. Do I make myself clear?”

“Can we buy cases of stuff if you have enough?” Naem asked.

“If we have plenty of it in stock and you note the transaction on inventory sheets, yes.”

Naem nodded. Perry sank lower into a slouch, bad attitude wafting off him like steam.

“Next item on the agenda is hours of operation. I have no idea why Dad did this but it’s not prudent to delay opening a restaurant until nine in the morning. That’s a lot of lost revenue from potential early eater breakfast patrons.”

His voice seemed to have obliterated all the air in the room because Olivia’s face paled. Naem, Darin and Patrice slid Olivia glances that told him there was definitely a story behind why his dad had decided to open the diner later and close it earlier. That story had to do with Olivia.

Other employees, waitstaff plus another assistant cook from the opposite shift, began to notice the shift in the atmosphere because they darted glances between Olivia and her day-shift crewmates. No matter. He couldn’t be derailed or they’d lose the diner. And, in turn, everyone sitting here would be unemployed. He couldn’t let that happen.

Furthermore, saving the business that meant so much to his father was Jack’s chance to make it up to him for not being around.

Dad’s narrowed hours of operation had been a bad move. That initial bank call on Dad’s phone at EPTC had nearly put Jack in the stroke wing beside his father. Jack hated taking drastic measures, but the business would go under if he didn’t. He couldn’t let Dad’s future fade without a fight. That meant staying open during ideal meal hours. The diner’s precarious financial state and Dad’s health had made huge impacts on Jack and cemented his decision to stay in town and take over running the place.

“Effective immediately, we will open at six a.m. and close at nine p.m. on weekdays, seven a.m. on weekends with closing time at ten p.m. That means I need the morning crew to be here an hour before opening and the evening crew will need to stick around an hour or so after closing to get things ready for the next day.”

Several eyes shot to Olivia. She kept her face down. Jack looked at her hands, tightly clutching her bag strap. She was squeezing the fiber out of it. Obviously, by the sympathetic looks rallying around her, the new hours would be a hardship on her. But Jack was not about to let his family’s legacy die because one employee had issues with inconvenient hours. He felt firm about it and wise in his decision.

So why, then, did mercy needle his conscience over Olivia?

“Guys, I know this is a lot to take in. But it makes the most sense. Okay?”

Everyone, including Olivia, nodded. But she never looked up. Jack would pull her aside later and privately ask her why she was upset about the hours. He didn’t intend to stress her out. He just wanted to save the family diner and secure Dad’s future. Especially if Sully ended up unable to return to work.

That would throw Jack’s life into a tailspin. He’d always envisioned himself serving decades in the military before retiring. At this point he still planned on returning to duty once Dad and the diner got back on their feet. He’d wanted to reach twenty years of service. But fate clearly had other ideas. He wished Olivia knew he understood how she felt. Sully’s stroke had sent several lives into chaos. They needed to band together and do what it took to get through this.

After going over other items of business, Jack concluded the meeting and bought his employees breakfast out of his own pocket. It was the least he could do. None of this was their fault.

Rather than eat her meal, Olivia slid the tray toward Darin and sprang out of her chair. Jack watched her friends’ concerned, crestfallen expressions as Olivia rushed out the door. Jack tossed Darin the diner keys, called, “Take charge until I return,” and sprinted out the door after her, not even sure why, and convinced he was making a mistake.

Yet something compelled him to do it anyhow.

She barely made it to the end of the block before he slowed his pursuit in order not to startle her. She was obviously lost in thought and oblivious to his approach.

“Miss Abbott?”

Her steps stuttered but didn’t stop.

“Please wait. I just need a moment of your time.”

She paused but didn’t turn around. Her arm came up to swipe across her face—she was crying.

He stepped close enough to rest a hand on her shoulder. “Olivia.”

She stiffened at his use of her first name. It had surprised him, too.

“What?” she said in defeated tones, her back still to him.

He came around to face her. “Talk to me.”

She huffed. “There’s no need. I’m fine.”

“Considering you shot out of the break room like a rodeo bull from a stall, I don’t believe that. Help me understand.”

She shook her head, clearly exasperated. “There is nothing to understand. I told you, I’m fine.” The involuntary tremor of her eyelid informed him otherwise.

But she obviously didn’t feel comfortable being vulnerable. He thought back over the meeting and her reactions at certain points, then mapped together possible scenarios.

“Miss Abbott, what part of the new schedule is a hardship on you? Maybe I can work around the issue.”

* * *

That was absolutely not what Olivia expected Jack to say.

The strain in his voice told her that working around her schedule was going to cause a problem. She already knew that but hadn’t wanted to face up to it. The diner was not in a good place financially. The bank wouldn’t care what reason they gave. If they didn’t get their money, they’d foreclose.

“The new hours will not be a problem,” she hedged. Even though her weary mind strained toward being open with Jack, she could not.

It would be selfish to expect the entire restaurant, and by extension the community, Sully and her friends, to arrange their most precious resource of time around her, and she could not bring herself to do it. Not after everything Sully had done for her.

“It’s a prudent decision given the diner’s debt,” she added.

“That’s not your problem, though.”

“And my scheduling conflicts are not yours. So trust me to work it out and I’ll back off on inserting my titanium opinions at future employee meetings. Provided I still have a job.”

Jack’s lip twitched, as if he were about to crack a smile, probably because she’d so accurately described herself.

“I haven’t fired anyone. Yet.”

“I get the feeling Perry’s the period on the end of that statement.”

Jack’s jaw clenched. “He’s irresponsible, insubordinate, rebellious and inconsiderate. Not to mention far from dependable. I have gone above and beyond to teach and warn him.”

True. But that Jack would actually fire him rankled, even though she respected his rationale. The day crew stuck together like glue.

“You resent me.”

Was that a question or a statement?

Yes, she resented him a little. He wasn’t Sully.

Yet maybe that was exactly why Perry got away with so much. Sully had let stuff slide.

Apparently a lot of stuff.

Jack shifted and checked his watch. She hated that they were still clashing, but there was something about him that set off the worst and weakest aspects of her character. Not to mention that the last thing she wanted was for such a strong man to see her fragile and upset.

She raised her chin to try to be more tough and convincing.

He examined her in that probing way of his.

“If you need special consideration—”

“I do not.” She’d just have to suck it up, nap when she could, study harder and pray her guts out for God to help her understand the things she read in her brick-thick medical books. Once she learned something, she had impeccable recall, but it was the initial challenge of getting the data in, and her brain’s ability to comprehend it, that was the struggle. Even her dyslexia could be contended with. The comprehension problem that was aggravated by lack of sleep? Not so much.

Olivia sat at a crossroads, literally. As Jack waited patiently, peering at cars whizzing by, she knew she had a choice to make. And it wasn’t going to be easy. In fact, it was probably the hardest thing she’d ever have to do—concede defeat and come clean.

She had to succeed in her goals, and if that meant eventually breaking down and sharing her disability with her new boss, she’d do it in order to keep herself from failing the EMT program. But she wouldn’t tell him until absolutely necessary. He had enough to worry about without her neediness. The last thing she wanted to be was a burden.

He gestured to a sidewalk bench between two Bradford pear trees. “Please, sit a moment.”

With gritted teeth, she said, “I’d rather not. Please forgive my emotional outburst and abrupt exodus from the meeting, Mr. Sullenberger. Now, really, I must be going.”

Mainly because the earnest care in his eyes was starting to get to her.

“Please, call me Jack. May I call you Olivia?” A corner of his mouth curled into a smirk-lined smile, acknowledging that he hadn’t exactly waited for her permission on that front.

The joking tone and flash of amusement in his eyes surprised her. She hadn’t figured him as the type.

She nodded stiffly, keeping her chin down lest she lose her nerve for what she needed to say next. Then she looked up at Jack and said the last words in the world she wanted to say. “The new schedule won’t be a problem. It needs to happen. I know that. It’s fine.”

Jack stared at her. He leaned back, rubbing his thumb and forefinger along his lower lip, studying her in that calculating way of his. Shook his head. Leaned forward, steepled his hands and released a breath before raking all ten fingers through his buzz, which looked more light brown than dark blond, as it had in Sully’s photos. “You are one stubborn broad.”

She burst out laughing because he’d muttered it mostly to himself. And because it was true.

His eyes lit at her laughter and then he laughed, too. For a moment she felt frozen in time. He was drop-dead gorgeous, even when he scowled like his father, but with his finely chiseled face all loose in laughter like that, good gravy he was finer than fine.

Where were they? Oh, yes, her stubbornness.

“I’m not trying to be difficult or stubborn. I just don’t know any other way to be.”

“You’ve had it rough. No need to deny it. You’ve had to fight for everything you have.”

She peered at him, shock waves rolling through her. “How did you know that?” Did his dad say something?

“Intuition. And because I haven’t always had it easy, either. In fact—”

“In fact it’s mostly been hard,” she finished for him.

“Exactly. So, will you share with me what the trouble is?”

She nibbled her lip, wondering if she could trust him. Would he use the knowledge as power over her? Maybe. He was a hothead. The next time he got mad, he might revert to meanness and spite, just like her dad always did.

No. She couldn’t risk it.

“No, Jack, I’m sorry, I can’t.”

“I guess I have to accept that. For now. But, believe me, I’m not happy about it.”

She could tell that his equally stubborn brain was already churning out ideas about how to get around her resistance.

Speaking of resistance, she needed to shore up some of her own. The way his muscles rippled under that button-down shirt and the attention his intense facial expressions brought to his firm jaw and striking features stole every ounce of concentration from her brain.

She couldn’t be attracted to him. That infatuation would fade soon.

It had to. Trust was too dangerous a journey to embark on. She was not only instinctively wary of trusting, but also unsure of Jack. Sure, he was handsome and she was admittedly attracted. Even if he returned the attraction, she couldn’t let herself acknowledge it. Dwelling on insurgent thoughts of opening up to him as anything beyond employee and employer would be stupid. Trust issues aside, he couldn’t treat her differently just because she had special needs he didn’t know about yet and hopefully never would. Olivia didn’t want special treatment. Her coworkers and work friends didn’t deserve that.

The diner crew was close-knit. At least, her shift of workers. She’d pull Jack into the fray of diner friendship if he let her. But she wouldn’t entertain ideas about ever being anything to him other than his employee.

She was also a pity case his dad had taken under his wing. He’d taught her everything she knew about waitressing, studying and running a business.

But as far as Jack Sullenberger knew, she was just Olivia, nothing special.

The fact that Jack was looking at her with an expression that suggested he thought the exact opposite was something she’d be better off ignoring.

Chapter Three

“You have three months on the nose, Jack,” the loan officer said through the diner office phone the next morning. Jack rubbed tired eyes with his fist, first one then the other. Then he covered another yawn.

He had burned the midnight oil in order to finish going over the books. He’d finished at 5:00 a.m., expecting to find answers regarding the enormous deficit, but ending up with more questions. He’d been going over the books a second time when the loan officer called.

“I don’t need much to live on,” Jack said. “I’ll have most of my checks sent directly to the bank to be applied to the diner deficit until I track down these missing funds.” It would cut into his savings but saving the diner would be worth it.

“Another thing to consider is that perhaps your dad’s faculties were failing and he got confused keeping records.”

“Yet his inventory records and every other record stayed impeccable? Not likely. Things don’t add up.”

But the more likely scenario wasn’t any more appealing to Jack than the possibility that his dad had made accounting errors.

Had someone been stealing from the till? Taking funds from somewhere? Too much money was missing and unaccounted for—this wasn’t a simple record-keeping mistake.

He ended the call with a bad feeling.

From this point onward, Jack would trust no one. Not even Patrice. Frankie, that creep boyfriend of hers was a bad influence. Jack knew his type—spoiled, entitled and cunning as a conman. Bad morals corrupted good character. Without exception. No telling if he’d had access to the register. Jack didn’t like him hanging around the diner.

Darin’s face appeared in the office doorway. “Jack, sorry to interrupt you, man, but I’m getting slammed out here.” Sweat dotted Darin’s forehead. He mopped it with a paper towel.

Then Jack realized his entire apron was soaked. And sudsy. Which could only mean one thing.

“Perry isn’t here yet?”

Darin averted his eyes. Then returned to face Jack with honesty. “No. He hasn’t called, either.”

Jack rose to help wash dishes. He studied the clock. Perry was thirty minutes late so far. He shook his head, irritated at the lack of work ethic. He sighed, knowing he was in a precarious spot.

Perry was late.

But Olivia had been late, too. Only by about ten minutes, but still.

She’d rushed in much the same way she’d entered the meeting yesterday—tardy, flustered and fatigued. If he disciplined Perry, he’d have to discipline her, too.

He grabbed the dish towel from Darin. “I’ll handle the dishes. You go man the grill.”

Darin nodded and Jack headed to the sinks. He passed Olivia on the way. She stood at the condiment prep table filling containers.

Filling containers all the way up. Sugar. Syrup. Salt. Pepper. Ketchup. Mustard.

Then she placed every single one of them, filled to overflowing despite his request not to, on her rolling cart and took them toward the dining area.

He stared in disbelief as she started plunking down mustard and ketchup containers on every table.

Just as he’d asked her not to do.

He counted to ten before he blew his stack.

Not only did he likely have a thief on the loose—which meant he was going to have to be diligent in watching everyone like a hawk every minute until evidence presented itself—he had to contend with gross disrespect of his authority.

Naem rounded the corner whistling. He was in a perpetually good mood—it was hard to stay in a bad mood around him. Jack’s lightened mood dampened when Olivia passed by looking irritated.

Actually, it didn’t seem as though she saw them. Her back to them, she darted into the supply closet across the hall from the office. Seconds later, she groaned. “Mister Tough-Guy-With-All-His-Rules. Couldn’t leave well enough alone. Ugh!”

Who and what was the addled woman talking about?

Naem stopped in front of him. And grinned. “You look about to blow a gasket, boss. What’s she done now?”

Jack shook his head. Then he heard another groan coming from the supply closet.

“You heard her call you Mister Tough-Guy-With-All-The-Rules or what?”

Jack almost laughed at that. “She actually said that about me?”

Naem flipped a stack of cloth napkins over his arm. “Hey, if the combat boot fits...”

Olivia jerked her apron string tight as she exited the closet and started shoving more salt and pepper shakers on the wheeled cart to distribute to tables.

He realized on closer inspection that she actually looked more frazzled and drained than irritated.

Empathy filtered in until he noticed something else. Every shaker was full.

He fought another surge of anger as he realized she’d defied him again by filling every single one of those containers to the hilt, as well. He watched as she doubled the efforts of her rebellion by tromping over and setting mustard on every table.

Mister Tough-Guy-With-Rules?

If that was the case and he was stuck in his way with rules, Miss Olivia Abbott seemed bulldog determined to break or at least bend them all.

* * *

Olivia remembered halfway through her table-to-table setup that she wasn’t supposed to be putting the containers on tables unless customers asked for them. She groaned for the gazillionth time today and started taking them back off. One hour of sleep was not nearly enough. She felt disoriented and memory challenged.

By now, Jack had marched to the kitchen in that clenched-jaw way of his, stopping only to help Darin by heating up the extra grills since they’d been busier than anyone had anticipated at breakfast. Jack headed to the back leveling a firm look her way. If the pans banging around the sink now were any indication, Jack had seen her mistake with the tables. Uh-oh.

Only she doubted he’d believe it was a mistake.

“I forgot,” she said to Patrice who raised The Mom Look eyebrows at her.

“Did you also forget he said he didn’t want the syrup filled up all the way?”

Ack! She’d forgotten that, too. Her brain was foggy from fatigue. Admittedly, Jack’s ideas made her bristle. “That’s dumb. That means more work for the next person on shift. He’s trying to save money. I get that. But filling the dispensers only half full will not make customers use half as much. It will just make us have to work twice as much to keep things refilled.”

“You may be right, and he’ll eventually figure it out...” Patrice bit her lip but Olivia knew the rest without Patrice having to spell it out.

“Fine. Whether I agree with him or not, it’s what he requested and I need to honor his wishes.” Olivia shrugged, feeling bombarded from all directions. He wouldn’t understand that she’d barely slept a wink because she’d been too stubborn to be straight with him yesterday when he’d probed her with questions on the sidewalk after the employee meeting.

Just knowing she’d had to get up earlier had set off her insomnia like a bull running through her bedroom. Her thoughts had been a dizzying array of chaos and she could not shut them down. She’d started counting sheep and ended with visions of them turning on her with loaded shotguns.

The longer she’d lain there trying to fall asleep, the sooner morning came, and with every hour closer to the time her alarm was set for, her anxiety grew into a frenzy over having one less hour to sleep. She’d finally given up, gotten up and studied, hoping that would help. It hadn’t.

Olivia slipped outside and went for a walk, hoping the cool air would help her feel more alert. On the way back in, she passed Jack’s truck—a Ford, of course. It reminded her that Sully had often spoken of frequent Ford-versus-Chevy sparring between he and Jack. Olivia sided with Sully on that one. Chevy rocked! She fought the urge to write a note on his truck. She’d promised Sully to razz Jack about his love of Fords. But somehow Jack didn’t seem the joking type now that she’d met him in person.

Adding to her stress was the pressing reminder that, at some point, after sneaking downstairs overnight to study in her favorite corner booth, she realized she’d studied the wrong chapter and therefore put herself in danger of not passing her test later today.

Maybe she needed to just be honest with Jack about her limitations.

Would it make a difference? She went to the supply room to run it by Patrice.

She, of all people, knew how much Olivia hated to be treated differently or given special attention. Yet did she have too much pride to admit that she may need extra help?

Also, telling Jack would mean running the risk of him hiring someone else, which neither of them could afford.

The hair on Olivia’s neck stood at attention—she sensed Jack’s overpowering presence before she saw him.

“Miss Abbott. I need to see you in my office.”

Jack stalked back to the office and Olivia stood amid the patriotic diner decor feeling as if she were in the middle of one of the wars the wall images depicted. She fought fear and hyperventilation. She liked it soooo much better when he called her Olivia. Addressing her so formally meant she was in trouble.

Patrice started to head back toward the office looking intent to be a verbal buffer but Olivia stopped her. “It’s sweet of you to want to defend me but I need to face the music myself.”

Patrice paused. “You sure?”

Olivia nodded. She didn’t want to put her friend in the line of fire. “Jack looks too angry to bend even if you try to talk him out of whatever he plans to say.”

Patrice nibbled her lip. “Or do.”

“Oh, Patrice, what if he fires me? I should have remembered what he said in the meeting.”

“Go, before he gets madder.”

Olivia made the trek feeling as if she was marching to a chopping block. First, he cut her off from seeing Sully. And now...he may boot her out of her only source of income. Not that she didn’t deserve the latter.

She stepped inside Sully’s office. Jack was sitting at the desk with his head bowed over a spreadsheet of some sort. He didn’t even bother looking up before saying, “Please close the door and sit down.”

She obeyed instantly—as she should have all along this morning—as she tried to figure out how to explain what had happened. He’d never believe her, after she’d questioned his money-saving judgment yesterday, that her actions today hadn’t been defiant or deliberate.

Maybe she’d assumed wrongly that he was like Sully, often forgiving to a fault. Something about Jack’s silence told her that he was not the same way. She gulped. Hard. Felt a fidget coming on but was too terrified to move.

Jack stopped writing on the sheet and stood so calmly, she shivered.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted. “Please let me keep my job.”

If she lost her job, she couldn’t pay for school and she’d fail at life.

He blinked in surprise, then quickly covered it by scowling as he waved her comment off. Still, the little telling gesture made her think there may be some Sully in Jack after all. “I’m not going to fire you, Olivia. But I am going to ask for your cooperation in doing what I say so things can run smoothly for all of us.”

“I know. When you ask me to do something, you expect me to do it.”

“That lecture is not why I called you in here and if you were getting proper sleep, mistakes like overfilling the syrup and sugar wouldn’t be happening.”

She stood. “How do you know I’m not getting proper sleep?”

He gestured toward her apron. “It’s on seam-side out.” Next he pointed to her name tag. “And, last I heard, you aren’t Oliver.”

She looked down and clenched her eyes shut. Groaned. Felt like giggling.

In her defense, Olivia and Oliver were very close in spelling. Except Oliver was the maintenance guy.

She didn’t refute Jack’s statement about the lack of sleep. She did, however, rapidly right her apron.

“The full containers are not my biggest concern. New habits take time.”

She stiffened. “Then what?”

Had he discovered her disability? She felt equal parts relief and trepidation. Truly, his response depended on his mercy.

Or lack thereof. She honestly didn’t know him well enough to guess to which side he’d lean.

He shuffled papers before meeting her gaze again. “It seems you have very strong opinions as to how this diner should run.”

Yes. She did. But only because of Sully and his leeway and how much he’d grown to depend on her with his health taking a nosedive and his refusal to see a doctor. She opted for humor and blinked innocently. “What on earth would make you think that?”

A quick flash of dimples bracketing his smile told her she’d caught him off guard. But he quickly righted his rigid posture and drill-sergeant demeanor. “If you were a shift manager, what would you suggest I do about Perry’s on-the-job drug use?”

“Uhhh... I don’t know what you—”

“Don’t lie to me. I won’t keep people I can’t trust.”

Her shoulders sank. “Jack, I really didn’t know.”

Jack tossed a pencil on the desk. It rolled off and bounced on the floor.

Clearly, he didn’t believe her.

Wait, wait, wait. Why would he mention her in conjunction with management?

Olivia felt bronchial spasms that usually preceded a stress-driven asthma attack. Sully didn’t believe in putting one employee above another. Surely Jack wasn’t scouting out which of them to stick at the bottom and top of a chain of command, was he? That could breed resentment and compromise the bond they all shared.

No matter. A more pressing issue blared between them.

She swallowed. “What drug use are you talking about?”

“He pops pills.”

“He has a lot of allergies.”

Jack smirked. “Yeah, to staying sober and straight. I noticed his pupils were dilated. I asked to see the bottle. He refused. That threw up a red flag. I’m a medic—I’ve had pharmacology classes. I suspect the pills he’s taking are someone else’s prescription.”

She sat. “Narcotics?”

“Yes. I can’t have employees impaired on the job. It’s dangerous for the employee, for their coworkers, for customers and it’s an insurance liability. Not to mention a lawsuit waiting to happen. If he shows up today, I’m doing a drug test. If he refuses, I’m letting him go. In fact, to be fair, everyone gets a drug test today. It’s the law and Dad has never performed one to my knowledge.”

She blinked. Was he questioning each of them about Perry? She’d seen him call Naem, Darin and Patrice in earlier, individually. While she was glad Jack wasn’t singling her out, it bothered her that he didn’t believe the best about her and the others. Either he had trust issues, too, or something had happened to make him suspect something amiss.

Olivia thought back to what he’d said about not wanting his employees impaired. Yet, isn’t that what she was, this sleep deprived?

She was no safer to have around than Perry, in a sense.

Jack studied her all the more intently, which made her wonder if his impairment concerns were why she’d been called in last. Maybe he’d questioned them about her, too.

She had to get more sleep. Period. But how?

The clacking of plates and platters and an increasing din wafted through the wood door. Things were starting to sound chaotic out in the dining area, which meant the floodgates had opened.

“Can I go? I really need to help Patrice and Naem. Obviously you were right about patrons eating breakfast early.”

In fact, many things had been running more smoothly. If she told him, would he think she was just sucking up? Was she?

“One more question. Who all has access to the registers here?”

“Pretty much all of us. We all help each other in a pinch.”

He apparently didn’t like that answer because his jaw clenched rhythmically. “Employees only?”

“Yes.” Why would he ask that? Had someone taken money? They’d been really lax about counting registers at shift change, and Sully operated almost solely on an honor system. She just assumed everyone was as honest as she was.

The thought that someone would steal from Sully upped her ire in a big way.

Patrice could be heard calling out for Darin to bring her more menus, which meant she and Naem were probably dealing with a full dining room. Olivia darted glances toward the door, wanting to go help her crew out of breakfast-rush chaos. Plus, Darin was undoubtedly slammed, too, and could use Jack’s help on the grills and other food prep.

Jack rose. “Go on back to work, Liv.”

She jerked. “Why did you call me that?”

Jack angled his head. “Dad told me to.”

“How? He’s not speaking.” She stood. Sat. Stood. “Is he?”

“He started writing with his strong hand on a special tablet last night. Have you not been to see him?”

She scowled. “I assumed you didn’t want me to.”

“I never said that. I just needed time alone with him that first evening.”

“So you don’t have a problem with me visiting him?”

“Not as of now.” He studied her in a way that made Olivia wonder if he suspected her of unethical behavior, as well. “I’ll say it one more time. I can’t keep people I can’t trust. Do I make myself clear?”

Olivia nodded but a terrible fist clenched her gut. Bottom line, Jack did not trust her. Why? What did he think she’d done, or what did he think her capable of?

She couldn’t stand the thought of being let go. That would stress Sully out. And keep her from paying for school and make her ineligible for the EPTC internship scholarship. And maybe force her to live with one of her parents, a very unhealthy atmosphere. She just couldn’t. He had to believe her.

Olivia wasn’t sure why his opinion mattered so much, just that it did. What he thought of her was important to her, even if she didn’t want it to be.

“You can trust me, Jack.”

He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his well-developed chest. “We’ll see.”

* * *

After nonstop customers from the start of her shift to the end, Olivia’s feet were aching. She’d expected to get to use her breaks for studying the right chapter but ended up not even having time to eat. She went to class and bombed her test despite cramming the hour before.

Her schedule was too packed. Something had to give. She came home feeling defeated and praying for sleep. Still, it eluded her and she hadn’t been able to comprehend a single thing in her book. Her dyslexia was functioning at an all-time high. She needed help. Period.

The next morning, she at least made it to the diner on time. Just in time to hear Jack say his trademark, “Get your boots back to work,” to Darin and Naem, who were swatting each other with wet dish towels.

When she walked to the back and glimpsed Jack yanking Perry’s time card out of his slot, she realized that Perry had not shown up yesterday. She eyed the clock. Patrice, just now arriving, peered at the clock as well. “Perry’s late again,” Olivia whispered.

“That’s his problem. I’ve got issues of my own.”

“Fighting with Frankie again?”

Patrice lifted her sleeves. Fingerlike red marks covered her upper arms.

“He did that?” Again!

Patrice nodded, tears filling her eyes. “He shook me so hard I bit my tongue.”

“I’m so sorry. I keep telling you, you need to get away from him. Why won’t you listen?”

“I know. But I can’t.” Patrice shrugged with the shoulders of someone already defeated.

Olivia wanted to talk sense into her, to ensure her safety, but Patrice looked too distressed right now to listen. That talk would have to wait. For now, out of sensitivity, Olivia sent Patrice the kindest smile she could and tried to think of worthwhile words to say.

Naem interrupted them. “Trouble’s brewing. Jack is at the computer cutting Perry’s check.”

“Since today’s not payday, that’s not a good sign,” Olivia said.

“No. Maybe if we have a talk with Perry and he promises to do better, Jack will relent.”

She nibbled her lip, recalling the conversation about impairment and possible drugs. “Naem, I’m not sure that’s the best decision.”

Naem looked at her funny. “Hey, we all stick together. All us little people.” Naem eyed her, then Jack. “What were you doing in his office, anyhow?”

Olivia realized the potential for distrust and division. “He had questions about the diner.” Olivia answered carefully. “Probably the same questions he asked you, Darin and Patrice.”

Naem nodded. “He said he needs to speak to me again today. Darin’s in there now. Maybe we should all compare notes.”

“Maybe.”

As she and Naem donned aprons, washed hands and tucked pens behind their ears, Darin emerged from Jack’s office. Wordlessly he headed straight for the grills.

Perry was nowhere to be found. She eyed the clock. He was twenty minutes late.

Jack helped Darin prepare bacon, then took over washing dishes. After customers started piling in upon the diner opening, a surprise to Olivia because she hadn’t thought they would continue to, day after day, Perry rolled in looking hungover and unkempt.

He only got four steps in before Jack pointed to the door.

Perry stopped, lowering his spit bottle. Gross. How could anyone chew tobacco in a restaurant? Not to mention it was a major health-code violation and one even Sully wouldn’t tolerate.

“What?” Perry blinked at Jack, who looked more livid by the second.

Perry on the other hand, looked as stoned as he probably was.

“No.” Jack barreled around the corner to stand in Perry’s way. “There’s the door. Walk back through it. You’re done here.” He handed Perry his final check.

“You’re firing me ’cause I’m only an hour late? What up, dude?”

“Out. Now. Or I’ll call the police.”

As mad as Jack looked, Olivia mentally advised Perry to do what Jack said. The anger in Jack’s eyes told her that calling the police on Perry was the most humane of two choices. Getting tossed out on his ear by Jack was probably the less appealing of the two.

As Jack walked Perry out, he said, “You need to get professional help.”

Perry sneered and muttered something to Jack that probably would have earned him a fist in the face from a less-controlled man.

“Oh my. I cannot believe he actually fired him,” Patrice whispered later to Olivia as they tucked order pads into the next shift’s aprons. Everyone had been walking on eggshells since the incident.

You mess up once, I warn you. You mess up twice, you’re done. That’s what he’d said when they’d all gaped at him after he escorted Perry out. Zero tolerance. Since then Jack had not said another word. To anyone.

“I know. To Jack’s credit, Perry pushed him over the line. He was warned,” Olivia said.

“Yeah. Multiple times. Still.”

Nothing else needed to be said. Olivia knew one thing. She wasn’t about to cross Jack. He was nothing like his dad. Sully might yell a lot, but he was all bark and no bite. Maybe even passive to a fault when it came to setting boundaries with employees. Jack, on the other hand? He was all bite. Little to no mercy seemed his mantra.

Other than that Fords were the only car built tough and worth having. Olivia smiled fondly remembering Sully telling her of their Chevy-versus-Ford sparring. Though Sully had made her promise to give Jack a hard time about Ford once she met him in person, so far, she hadn’t had the nerve.

“Of course he could have been using Perry as an example.” Patrice shrugged.

“To show his power you mean?” Olivia hoped not. But it bothered her that Jack didn’t even try to find out Perry’s background. Or, if he had, she wasn’t aware of it.

“I don’t know. Maybe. That doesn’t seem like the Jack I remember, but maybe the military and war changed him.” Patrice didn’t have to finish the rest.

Changed him. And not for the better.

Just as Olivia thought. Change was, at this point in her life, her absolute worst enemy, and right now Jack Sullenberger was captaining that particular moving ship.

Chapter Four

Jack knew his firing of Perry had rattled the tight-knit day-shift crew yesterday. They were still subdued and somber today. Everyone, even Olivia, had shown up for work extraordinarily early and no one was goofing off or joking around.

He hated to be the bad guy, but Dad had been too passive in dealing with insubordination and misconduct. Behavior like Perry’s could end up being bad for business.

He’d done the right thing by setting a precedent.

Yet he felt the gap widening between himself and his employees over it.

“Hey, Jack, the appliance delivery company is on the line.” Patrice held up the cordless phone as lunch customers walked through the jingling door.

“Patch them through.” When his office phone beeped, he punched a button. “Jack Sullenberger speaking.”

“Yes, sir. Eagle Point Appliances. How are you today?” a chipper female voice asked.

Dismal. “Fine. What’s up?”

“Well, aren’t we Mr. No Nonsense again today,” the clerk teased in cooing tones.

Jack rubbed his temple, willing away the oncoming headache as she chattered on. She sounded like the same gal who’d flirted relentlessly with him when he’d gone in to order the new washer and dryer for the diner yesterday, after his evening visit with Dad.

Yes, loneliness resided that felt like a canyon was widening inside his chest more every year. But he’d seen enough emotional and psychological pain between his parents in his growing-up years to last a lifetime—and to sufficiently keep him away from any marriage-minded woman.

As far as Jack was concerned, he was married to the military.

“Listen,” he interrupted her. “We’re kinda busy here. Could you get to the point?”

Silence. He heard a brief huff, then, “With the impending threat of bad winter weather, we’d like to deliver the washer and dryer early,” she said in a more professional tone, yet laced with enough saccharine and sarcasm to let him know she felt rebuffed and wasn’t happy about it. “Today, if possible, since the storm’s supposed to get worse tomorrow and terrible the day after.”

“That’s fine.”

“One issue is that all of our delivery drivers are out and we may need manpower for lifting.”

“Not a problem. I’ll be here and we’ve got strong guys to help.”

After writing the delivery time on the calendar, Jack hung up when the clerk attempted to turn the conversation personal again. He didn’t have time for this nonsense.

His dad’s rickety office chair squealed as Jack swiveled to peer at the diner’s ancient computer monitor. Yesterday, the loan officer had mentioned sending digital reminders. Up until then, Jack hadn’t realized Dad had a diner email account. “What’s the password to the diner’s email address?” Jack called to Olivia, who was stacking server ware across the hall on the stainless steel shelving. “And why are you putting that stuff there?”

Olivia started to furrow her brows then recovered quickly. “‘I don’t remember,’ and this is where Sully wants the plates stacked.” She turned to get a tray of cups.

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