“Oh no,” she laughs. “I wouldn’t have given you a third date, either.”
“I’m the one who didn’t ask her out again.” I hold open the bag, and Liesel slides the diamond earrings into it. I zip up the bag and put it in her outstretched palm, folding her fingers over it and holding her hand as long as she lets me. “I figured if I didn’t notice she had a foot of hair missing, we weren’t going to work out.”
A small smile plays at her lips. She tucks the bag with her earrings into the back pocket of her jeans. I wrap a hairnet around her silky blonde hair, making sure my fingers skim across her cheeks and forehead way more than necessary, because I love the feel of her skin.
“Jenna’s loss,” she says quietly.
And those two words erupt like a volcano low in my gut.
“Does that mean it’s Liesel’s gain?” I ask, the need to kiss her crackling like a fire inside of me.
Liesel glances around us. This is a move I’ve gotten used to in the last few weeks. It’s what she does when she wants to talk—wants toflirt—but isn’t sure she should.
“You know, we probably shouldn’t be seen together,” she says. Her darting eyes drop to my mouth and then bounce back up to my eyes. “There are going to be a lot of photos at this event.”
I pick up two Santa hats from a nearby table and fit one on her head and the other on mine. “They asked for no pictures on the warehouse floor.” I keep my eyes on hers. If I look at hermouth, I’m going to kiss the heck out of it. “They’ll take pictures at the end.”
The pompom at the bottom of the hat falls in her face, and I move it to the side. “What about Doug?” she asks.
“His family left for Hawaii this morning.”
“What about Juliet and Nate,” a voice says from right next to me. I flinch and see Liesel’s roommate wearing a hairnet and batting her eyes at us. Nate is standing behind her with a hairnet and an almost apologetic smile.
Liesel wrinkles her nose. “I forgot to tell you that Nate’s the head of legal for the Cruz Foundation. And Feeding Futures is owned by the Cruz family.”
“I’m starting to thinkImight be owned by the Cruz family,” I grumble.
“Sorry,” Nate says. I hold out my fist and he bumps his against mine. To Liesel, he says, “My family doesn’t ‘own’ the charity, though. It’s the charitable arm of our organization.”
“What’s the difference?” I ask.
“Semantics,” Juliet says.
“It’s not semantics. The distinction matters,” Nate says.
“That’s what rich people say when they don’t want you to know they own everything,” Juliet whispers.
Nate pinches her side, and then he and Juliet launch into a hushed debate while we join the throngs of volunteers to get instructions for the day’s work.
Liesel’s probably smart to be on the lookout for anyone who could snitch on us, but I can’t seem to care. I stand closer than I should, bumping her arm with mine. I can’t do the heavier routine activities, but I talked to the coordinator already and got assigned to a low-impact job.
When the coordinator finishes her explanation, she tells us that after every forty meals we box, she’ll ring a bell. “So let’s make those bells ring!” she says.
Everyone cheers and breaks for their different assignments. Liesel makes a move to follow Juliet, but I hook my arm around her shoulders and redirect her. “Actually, we’re this way.”
She grabs my hand on her shoulder, and for a second, I think she’s going to hold it. But then she bumps me with her hip and spins out from under my arm. “Shouldn’t I join my department?”
“Well, I can’t do any scooping or lifting,” I say, pointing to my scar. Her eyes tense when she looks at it. “So I’ve been assigned to label bags and boxes and organize volunteer stations.”
“And what does that have to do with me?”
I put my arm back around her shoulders, moving past volunteers going another direction. This time, she lets me keep it there. “I explained that I would probably need to have someone on the team help, in case I overexert myself.”
“How very responsible of you,” she says.
“I volunteered you to help, because I figured you wouldn’t trust anyone else to babysit me.”
“No, I would not.”
