by Cheryl Wyatt
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 [email protected]. View her book list and join her newsletter at cherylwyatt.com.
Books by Cheryl Wyatt
Love Inspired
Eagle Point Emergency
The Doctor’s Devotion
Doctor to the Rescue
The Nurse’s Secret Suitor
Her Hometown Hero
Wings of Refuge
A Soldier’s Promise
A Soldier’s Family
Ready-Made Family
A Soldier’s Reunion
Soldier Daddy
A Soldier’s Devotion
Steadfast Soldier
THE HERO’S SWEETHEART
Cheryl Wyatt
www.millsandboon.com.au
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
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
Excerpt from His Secret Child by Lee Tobin McClain
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 ev
erything. 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 tan
k 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.
