Winning Sara's Heart. Mary Anne Wilson

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      Chapter Two

      Sara Flynn stopped just inside the kitchen doors and was shaking so hard she had to put the tray down on the stainless steel counter before she dropped it. She tried to get her hair back in the knot, twisting it and pushing the pins to hold it, but she had a terrible time fastening it. As she pushed in the last pin, she took several deep breaths to try to steady herself.

      “What’s going on out there?”

      She turned to the chef, Marv, who was doing prep work on a side table, chopping carrots and celery so quickly that the actions were almost a blur. “An accident,” she said, and took the tray over to the sinks to dispose of the food and the broken dishes.

      “Sounded like a bomb went off,” he said.

      “A bomb would have been preferable,” she said, dropping the tray into the soapy water in the large sink, then turning to Marv.

      The chef was fifty or so, a stocky man with dark eyes and a ruddy complexion. She’d never seen him out of his whites. He’d been kind to her, explaining things she didn’t know about the business, and covering for her when she’d needed it. He stopped chopping for a minute and frowned at her. “What was it?”

      She shrugged. “I dropped that last order right on the customer,” she said, trying to make her mouth smile, but it was impossible.

      Marv smiled for both of them. “Oh, boy, I wish I’d seen it, although I hate to see my work ruined.”

      “You wouldn’t have wanted to see it,” she said. “Hughes is furious.”

      “Threatened to fire you, didn’t he?”

      She exhaled. “He sure did, and then some customer butted in, and…” She bit her lip, still remembering when she’d heard that deep voice and looked up to see the man standing over her. The way he’d reached out, taken Hughes by the arm—and the anger behind his action. Dark hazel eyes hadn’t backed down from Hughes and his fury, and she’d known if the stranger had said or done one more thing, Hughes would have fired her then and there to prove he could.

      “A customer?” Marv said, cutting into her thoughts.

      She looked through the small oval pane of glass in the kitchen door and saw the man. He was still at the bar, leaning forward, his elbows on the polished wood top, and staring into his coffee mug. “He’s still at the bar. He said something about talking to Hughes about what happened, but I hope he’s forgotten all about that.” She watched the stranger sit back, turn and look at a man coming into the restaurant.

      She recognized the security man from next door. He crossed to the man at the bar, said something, then left. The stranger turned back to the bar, tossed off the rest of his drink, then stood. He was tall and lean, and had an edge to him. A dangerous edge, she thought, then rationalized she was feeling that because he’d darn near gotten her fired.

      “A real knight in shining armor?” Marv asked.

      She turned as the man put a bill on the bar. “No. He almost got me fired.” She ducked back when Hughes came toward the doors and stepped into the kitchen.

      “Sara?” he said. “The tables aren’t ready for the lunch rush. Get them set, then come into my office.”

      “Yes, sir,” she said, her heart sinking. Quickly she went past him and out into the restaurant. Her luck was holding and all of it was bad. She barely missed walking right into the stranger, and she had the horrifying thought that he was following Hughes to have that talk with him.

      “You,” she muttered, stepping back to look up at him.