I grab the check from her, stand from the booth, and reach for my wallet. After throwing sixty bucks on the table to cover our meal and a generous tip, I tuck my wallet back in my pocket.
“Another thing you should know about me,” I tell her, watching those eyes of hers gauge me with blunt intensity. “When we’re together, you don’t pay. Even if I would’ve won you wouldn’t be paying, and any guy that takes you out like this and expects you to cover any part of the meal, is a dick.”
“But this wasn’t a date or anything.”
I brace one hand on the ledge of the booth behind her, flatten my other hand on the table, and lean down, getting inches from her face. I’m expecting her to back up, or maybe startle a bit at my intrusion, but fuck me if she doesn’t tilt her head up, welcoming it.
“It doesn’t matter what this was. If you ever go out with a guy and he makes you pay, don’t go out with him again. You understand?”
She stares at my mouth. “Is that an Alabama thing? Are all the guys here like you?”
I straighten up, giving her a smirk that brings out that damn smile of hers. I had my cocky response ready, but my face breaks into a grin and wipes my memory of whatever line I was about to give her.
“Shit,” I mumble, running my hand over my jaw as she stands from the booth.
How can a fucking smile knock me off my game? It’s a smile. It’s not like she’s pulling her dress off, and then beaming up at me like that with her tits out. That would definitely prevent me from coming back at her with something. My mouth would be too busy worshipping every part of her.
She looks up at me. “What?”
I form my hand to her lower back and move her with me through the restaurant. “I don’t know. Just pretend I said something really witty. And maybe give a guy a warning next time you’re planning on smiling like that.”
“A warning?” she asks, hesitantly as we step outside. Her eyes cast upward to the sky. “Oh hey, it stopped raining.”
I don’t even register the change in weather. Just another thing that slips by me when I’m in her presence.
I open up the passenger door and step back, allowing space for her to get in front of me. “Yeah, a warning. Like ‘Hey Reed, I’m about to fuck up your chances of forming a complete thought. Just wanted to give you a heads up.’”
She climbs into the truck with my assistance, looks down at me after situating her dress, and frowns. “Hey, Reed?” she says more as a question than anything. Her voice suddenly apprehensive.
“Yeah?” I step closer, cranking my neck back to stare up at her. Holding my fucking breath to make sure I don’t miss whatever it is she’s about to ask me.
Pathetic.
“Fuck,” I utter through a rough shake of my head as she does it again. I shut the door, muting her animated laughter. Catching her eyes in the front window as I walk around the truck, she pins me with the happiest face I think I’ve ever seen.
That smile.
Damn.
Beth
I STEP THROUGH THE LARGE, rustic doors of the church and descend the staircase to get to the basement. Once I reach the bottom level, the room opens up into a large space. Long tables with bench seating fill the area, reminding me of the cafeteria at my high school back in Kentucky. It’s busy in here, but not a lot of noise. Everyone is eating and focused on their food. Tables of families huddled together, talking softly between bites. Other people sit alone, but they don’t look lonely. They don’t look despaired or destitute. They have a quiet hope about them as they eat their meals and keep to themselves.
I move past the line of people waiting to be served and head for the doorway that leads to the kitchen. A woman looks over at me, pausing with a soup ladle in her hand.
“Hi, can I help you?” she asks, using the back of her free hand to push the brim of her glasses up on her nose. She’s young, not much older than me if I had to guess.
Smiling, I step further into the kitchen. “I spoke to someone on the phone yesterday about volunteering. I was told to show up around eleven today.”
“Oh, yes!” She pulls her gloves off and drops them into the trash bin on her way over to me. Taking my hand in a firm shake, her light-blue eyes shine with a familiar light, but I can’t understand why. We’ve never met.
“I’m Riley. You spoke to me on the phone.”
“Beth, hi, it’s nice to meet you.” I drop her hand and follow behind as she moves back toward the table covered in hot food, the steam billowing above the containers.
“Thank you so much for coming. We’re extremely short-handed lately,” she tells me over her shoulder. She stops behind the two other volunteers. “This is Wendy, and Tonya. Ladies, this is Beth. She’s going to be helping us out occasionally.”