The Hero's Sweetheart by Cheryl Wyatt

Author:Cheryl Wyatt
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin Enterprises, Australia Pty Ltd
Published: 2016-03-13T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

No. She was far from ready.

“Give me five minutes. I need to go get my dinner for tonight’s EMT shift.”

“Sure.”

“Would you like to come up and wait?”

“Nah. Take your time.” Jack’s keys jangled as he pulled them out of his pocket. “I’ll warm up the Ford.”

She didn’t miss his teasing smirk and emphasis on Ford.

Patrice, standing outside with Darin, giggled and caught up with her. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was flirting with you.”

Jack, Darin and Naem hadn’t been letting Patrice out of their sight. At least not while she was at the diner. Olivia was grateful for their protective nature.

“That’s preposterous. He just likes to torment me about cars.”

“Uh, if I recall correctly, you started that particular war.” Patrice wiggled her eyebrows.

“How did you know that?”

“He told me. So, why do you seem so nervous to ride with him? You have nothing to be scared about. He’s the perfect gentleman, I assure you.”

“Yeah, I know. Except he’s serious about his Fords.” Olivia laughed. “I could care less what kind of car I drive just as long as it gets me where I want to go. They all make decent cars. But I must admit it’s fun taking Sully’s Chevy-over-Ford baton and outrunning Jack with it.”

Patrice shook her head. “You and Jack are competitive enough as it is.”

The pair climbed the stairs to their apartment above.

After quickly making green smoothies for her and Olivia, Patrice grabbed her makeup pouch and Olivia went to the fridge and got out the sandwich she’d made that morning to save time this evening. Good old ham and cheese, with carrot sticks and chocolate pudding.

“Sully told me Jack trains snipers and heads armies. Add to that the fact that he probably has more guns than a redneck pawnshop, more ammo than Rambo, and when he’s not driving Fords he’s commanding military maneuvers. It’s a little intimidating to say the least.”

Dinner and medical bag in hand, Olivia followed Patrice out onto the landing, sipping her smoothie and trying not to cringe that there was probably kale in it. Patrice made the weirdest health shakes sometimes. They were tasty, just as long as Olivia didn’t know all the contents.

Patrice turned and gave her a funny look. “But that’s not why you’re nervous.”

Olivia dipped her face, then decided that if she opened up maybe Patrice would, too, about her abuse. She met Patrice’s gaze squarely. “Okay, I admit a little intrigue. But it could never work. So it’s a dumb daydream. He’s just larger than life, handsome and I’m pretty sure he might carry a torch for you, anyway.”

Patrice’s eyes widened, then she placed her hands on Olivia’s shoulders. “No. He doesn’t. Not even a match. Come here.” Patrice ushered Olivia back into their apartment. “You have two minutes while Jack warms up his truck. Spill it girl.”

She grinned so wide, Olivia smiled, too.

“I’m edgy around him for several reasons. For one, I’m shy and awkward and never know what to say to someone so heroic and formidable, powerful and commanding.

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