by Glynna Kaye
“Actually, I was hoping to talk with you for a few minutes,” he said.
She pursed her lips. “About what?”
“I have a job offer for you.”
She let go of the screen door and it clapped closed. She tucked a curl of reddish-gold hair back behind her ear, looking beautiful and vulnerable.
She indicated the diner, her brows lifting in an irritated frown. “I have a job already. I own this restaurant.”
“I know, but this would be right up your alley and shouldn’t interfere with your café. I need a caterer. Someone who can prepare meals for the crews of men and women during the summer fire season coming up.”
She snorted. “I’ve got two kids. I can’t flitter around, traveling from state to state to provide food to firefighters.”
“You wouldn’t have to. I just need you for the fires we get in our own mountains, which shouldn’t be too many. Tim Wixler told me you’ve done it before.”
Her mouth rounded and she hesitated. “Yes, but not anymore. I’m afraid it wouldn’t work for me now.”
“You sure? I heard that you own a mobile kitchen and lots of tables and chairs.”
“Yes, that’s true, but I’ve advertised all of my equipment for sale.”
“Then you know what the work entails. Since you’re the only restaurant in town, I wanted to give you first dibs on the job. Reno is eighty miles away, so I thought I’d ask the locals first.”
Her frown stayed firmly in place, and he hurried on, wondering why he felt desperate for her to accept. “It’s just for the summer and it wouldn’t be dangerous. You’d be serving meals up at the fire camp, which would be far away from the fire.”
She gave a derogatory snort. “Yeah, it’s safe. With all those big airplanes, bulldozers and pumper trucks driving around the place. No thanks.”
Hmm. Maybe she did have something against firefighters after all.
“It’s good money. We pay top dollar.” He didn’t know why he kept enticing her. She’d said no, but he’d noticed how shorthanded she was in the restaurant. That could be because someone had called in sick, or because she couldn’t afford to hire more people. Whatever the cause, he felt certain that she needed the extra income. So why wouldn’t she accept his offer?
“I’m not really staffed to cater meals to a bunch of unruly firefighters anymore,” she said.
Unruly firefighters? He was one of them. And from what he’d been told, her husband had been one, too. So why the animosity?
“I could help you get set up,” he offered. “If you can provide the equipment, workforce and prepare the food, I can provide you with the Cubitainers. I’ve even got two extra power generators I could let you borrow.”
Because she’d done this kind of work before, Megan should already know that Cubitainers were clear, square plastic containers for putting juice, milk and water in. They were stackable and easy to transport.
“I’d make it as painless as possible,” Jared continued. “All you and your people have to do is cook and serve the food to the crews for an occasional fire.”
Okay, he was trying too hard. And yet, he felt as though his future happiness depended on her acceptance. A crazy notion if ever he’d had one.
She shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. I can’t.”
He flashed her a smile, determined not to be upset by her rebuttal. She must have her reasons for declining, and he couldn’t fault her for it. “Okay, I understand. If you change your mind in the next few days, just say the word. I won’t be going into Reno to approach other possible vendors there for another week or so. You’ve got time to change your mind.”
“I won’t change my mind.”
“Well, just in case.” He reached inside his shirt pocket and pulled out one of the new business cards his office manager had made up for him two weeks ago when he’d first arrived in town. Handing the card over to Megan, he noticed how her hand trembled as she took it. She barely glanced at it before sliding it into the pocket of her apron.
“Thanks.” She turned and went inside, leaving him to follow at his own pace.
She returned with a bucket of water a few minutes later. While she resumed her work in the restaurant, he dumped the water into the rusty garbage can. He checked on the fire one last time, satisfied that it was really out. Then, he went inside for his meal. It was delicious and he finished it way too soon. And when he tried to pay his bill, Megan refused to accept any money. Instead, he left a twenty-dollar bill tucked beneath his plate when she wasn’t looking. A very tidy tip he thought she’d earned.
Walking out into the sunshine, he climbed into his blue pickup truck and drove home. But he couldn’t help wishing that Megan Rocklin had accepted the catering job.
Copyright © 2016 by Lora Lee Bale
ISBN-13: 9781488007224
Claiming the Single Mom’s Heart
Copyright © 2016 by Glynna Kaye Sirpless
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