into management.”
He scanned the applications she gave him. “You’ve got some good choices here.” He looked at her and she made the mistake of meeting his eyes. She should have looked away, busied herself with the papers. But she didn’t. And he didn’t. And the moment stretched across long seconds, as if their eyes could communicate on a level their mouths never would.
He broke the contact by handing her back the apps. “Pick the ones you’re interested in, then let me check them out before you set up interviews, ’kay?”
“It’s a diner management position. What kind of dangerous person is going to take that job?”
“A smart one. It’s an opening, a way to get close to you and use you to get to us.”
“Did you do this with my other employees?”
“Yes.” He looked at her again, this time in an assessing way. “Because I do what I do, I have a responsibility to keep you and Casey and my entire team safe.”
“What is it that you do, Kit? I’ve never fully understood it.” She looked at him as she asked that question.
“I fight bad guys.”
“Within the law, though, right?”
He grinned. “Sure.”
“Have you and Ty been together all this time?”
“Yep. He was with me in Afghanistan.”
“I’m glad. He needed you.”
“He did. But he’s got Eden now.”
Ivy looked away from him as she gathered up the applications. “Do you want to interview the ones I pick? You’re my partner, after all.”
“Nope. The diner’s your thing, Iv.” She let his nickname roll through her. He was the only one who shortened her already short name. “I want to stay as a silent partner. I’m happy to have you run ideas off me, but I don’t know anything about running a restaurant and don’t really want to learn.”
Ivy held the papers between her body and her folded arms. “What if I can’t do it? What if I screw up and the diner fails?”
He shrugged. “Then you screw up. You figure out what went wrong. You fix it. And you move on to the next challenge.” Kit tilted his head as he studied her. She resisted the urge to meet his eyes.
“Look at what you’ve already come through. Six years on your own with a baby. You survived, and our daughter thrived. Iv, you put yourself through college. If you could do that, you can do the diner. You can do anything. But if you don’t want to do the diner, we’ll sell it. Then you can find something else to do.”
“No.” She did look at him then. “I want the diner. In this town. I want to be a part of a community. I like the people here. I like the work. It’s a good place for Casey to grow up.”
Kit nodded. “If you’re happy, then I’m happy. The rest will come together.”
It was strange talking to Kit about the diner when so much else was left unsaid between them. She wondered if his words had other meanings. She got up and took the papers over to her desk.
“I sent you letters. In the beginning,” he told her.
She kept her eyes glued to the desk, leaving the distance between them as an invisible barrier, a safety buffer. “I didn’t get them.”
“By the time I got through boot camp and could make a call, you’d moved away, but I didn’t know that. I hopped a bus and came back here. Mandy didn’t know where you’d gone. The sheriff wouldn’t tell me where you’d gone. Mrs. McNelly, the social studies teacher, finally gave me your contact information. I called the minute I got your number. A hundred times, I phoned you. Finally, your dad answered. He said you miscarried. He told me you needed privacy and time to heal.”
Ivy held herself perfectly still. She’d long wondered if he’d tried to find her, if he’d even cared to try. She flashed a look at him. She couldn’t breathe—her chest locked up on her. “And you believed him?”
“No. I went out to see you, but he wouldn’t let me. He called the cops. It got ugly.”
Ivy sat on the bed, her back to Kit. She fought the words that wanted to spill
He scanned the applications she gave him. “You’ve got some good choices here.” He looked at her and she made the mistake of meeting his eyes. She should have looked away, busied herself with the papers. But she didn’t. And he didn’t. And the moment stretched across long seconds, as if their eyes could communicate on a level their mouths never would.
He broke the contact by handing her back the apps. “Pick the ones you’re interested in, then let me check them out before you set up interviews, ’kay?”
“It’s a diner management position. What kind of dangerous person is going to take that job?”
“A smart one. It’s an opening, a way to get close to you and use you to get to us.”
“Did you do this with my other employees?”
“Yes.” He looked at her again, this time in an assessing way. “Because I do what I do, I have a responsibility to keep you and Casey and my entire team safe.”
“What is it that you do, Kit? I’ve never fully understood it.” She looked at him as she asked that question.
“I fight bad guys.”
“Within the law, though, right?”
He grinned. “Sure.”
“Have you and Ty been together all this time?”
“Yep. He was with me in Afghanistan.”
“I’m glad. He needed you.”
“He did. But he’s got Eden now.”
Ivy looked away from him as she gathered up the applications. “Do you want to interview the ones I pick? You’re my partner, after all.”
“Nope. The diner’s your thing, Iv.” She let his nickname roll through her. He was the only one who shortened her already short name. “I want to stay as a silent partner. I’m happy to have you run ideas off me, but I don’t know anything about running a restaurant and don’t really want to learn.”
Ivy held the papers between her body and her folded arms. “What if I can’t do it? What if I screw up and the diner fails?”
He shrugged. “Then you screw up. You figure out what went wrong. You fix it. And you move on to the next challenge.” Kit tilted his head as he studied her. She resisted the urge to meet his eyes.
“Look at what you’ve already come through. Six years on your own with a baby. You survived, and our daughter thrived. Iv, you put yourself through college. If you could do that, you can do the diner. You can do anything. But if you don’t want to do the diner, we’ll sell it. Then you can find something else to do.”
“No.” She did look at him then. “I want the diner. In this town. I want to be a part of a community. I like the people here. I like the work. It’s a good place for Casey to grow up.”
Kit nodded. “If you’re happy, then I’m happy. The rest will come together.”
It was strange talking to Kit about the diner when so much else was left unsaid between them. She wondered if his words had other meanings. She got up and took the papers over to her desk.
“I sent you letters. In the beginning,” he told her.
She kept her eyes glued to the desk, leaving the distance between them as an invisible barrier, a safety buffer. “I didn’t get them.”
“By the time I got through boot camp and could make a call, you’d moved away, but I didn’t know that. I hopped a bus and came back here. Mandy didn’t know where you’d gone. The sheriff wouldn’t tell me where you’d gone. Mrs. McNelly, the social studies teacher, finally gave me your contact information. I called the minute I got your number. A hundred times, I phoned you. Finally, your dad answered. He said you miscarried. He told me you needed privacy and time to heal.”
Ivy held herself perfectly still. She’d long wondered if he’d tried to find her, if he’d even cared to try. She flashed a look at him. She couldn’t breathe—her chest locked up on her. “And you believed him?”
“No. I went out to see you, but he wouldn’t let me. He called the cops. It got ugly.”
Ivy sat on the bed, her back to Kit. She fought the words that wanted to spill
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