“Sure I do. It’s my way of saying thank-you.”
He stepped forward and offered her his hand. “My name’s Jared Marshall.”
“I’m Megan Rocklin.” She took his hand in a tentative grip, but she didn’t smile.
“I’m glad to meet you, Mrs. Rocklin.”
She nodded. Without another word, she turned her shoulder on him and looked at the husky man wearing a chef’s hat. The cook. Jared had seen the guy back in the kitchen, preparing breakfast.
“Frank, I’m afraid you may have caused this fire. Can you be more careful with your cigarette butts in the future? I’ve got insurance, but I’d sure hate to have the place burn to the ground.” Her voice sounded gentle but stern.
Frank’s round face flushed red. “I... I’m sorry, Megan. I thought my cigarette was out. I didn’t mean to cause any harm.”
The poor guy looked profoundly apologetic. The little girl named June took his hand and leaned against his side in a silent show of support.
Megan relented, a smile of understanding creasing her face as she hugged the big man in a warm gesture of forgiveness. “I know you didn’t mean any harm. Just please be careful in the future. Or better yet, now is a great time to quit smoking altogether.”
“Maybe you’re right,” Frank said, his bushy brows pulled down in a thoughtful frown.
Jared liked this woman. Liked the way she treated her kids and her employees. She seemed to really care about them. And after what he’d been through with his ex-wife and her selfish demands, that meant a lot.
“Well, no harm done,” Jared said.
All eyes riveted on him. No one said a word. They looked at him as if he’d grown horns on top of his head. And suddenly, he felt out of place. As if he didn’t belong. Not yet, anyway. But he planned to change that over time. He loved the quiet camaraderie of this small town, the slower pace, the beautiful stands of timber covering the Sierra Nevada Mountains. This was his kind of place, and he was staying. He’d thought putting out the fire might win him a few new friends. So, why did he feel as if he was a leper trying to infect everyone? Maybe it was because they didn’t know him yet. He was a stranger, after all.
“Okay, the show is over, folks. Let’s get back to business.” Megan opened the screen door and urged her children, Frank and other people inside.
Jared held back, deciding to watch the fire for a while longer, to ensure it was really out.
Megan beckoned to him. “You don’t need to worry. I’ll keep an eye on it.”
“If you’ve got a bucket, I’d feel better to dump some water on it, just to make sure it doesn’t flare up again.”
“Yes, I can do that. Why don’t you come inside and Connie will get your meal for you?”
She stood, holding the screen door open, her stubborn chin lifting a notch higher in the air. Her beautiful eyes didn’t quite meet his. They seemed cold and remote, now. Not quite hostile, but almost. He felt her disapproval like a living thing and wondered what was wrong. What had he done? Since he’d mentioned that he fought wildfires for a living, she’d changed toward him, and he didn’t understand why. Most people loved firefighters. They were considered heroes. A profession little boys dreamed about becoming part of when they grew up.
“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