Page 8 of Dark Side of the Cloth

As she pulled into the parking lot, her heart sank. She didn’t see Dean’s classic black BMW in any of the spots.

Probably for the best.

Yasmine jogged for the back door to the restaurant, trying to avoid the massive wet flakes that were sure to chill her to the bone. The old metal door loudly announced her presence as it squeaked. She took a deep breath of the already delightful aroma and hung up her coat, savoring the warmth.

“Sweetie, you made it,” Mabel said. Her smile could light up any room, and Yasmine could picture just how beautiful she was in her youth. The two women embraced, and she held Mabel a little longer than normal. “Are you okay, Yazzy?”

Mabel was the only one other than her deceased father that called her that. “Yeah, it’s just good to see you. I’m sorry I haven’t been in for a while.”

“Don’t be silly. I know you’re very busy. Besides, you’re young, and you don’t want to hang out with an old hag like me.”

Yasmine playfully smacked Mabel’s arm. “You are so not an old hag.”

“If you say so, sweetie. Come on. We have lots of work to do and less hands than in past years. It’s a shame that more people don’t volunteer to help those in need. It seems like every year we lose someone else, and no one steps up.” A shadow of sadness crossed Mabel’s face, and Yasmine wrapped her arm around the older woman that had been a mother to her when she needed it the most.

“What would you like me to do first?” Yasmine asked.

Mabel’s face brightened. “Can you slice the vegetables into small bite-sized pieces? I’m going to make enough chicken noodle soup to feed the entire town if need be.”

Yasmine laughed as she walked over to the station with massive baskets of carrots, celery, and an assortment of other fresh produce. Washing her hands, she grabbed the knife and got to work. She’d periodically wave or say, “Hi,” to one of the other volunteers, but for the most part, she did as she always did and stayed to herself. When the back door opened again, Yasmine was tapping her foot to the lively music, lost in thought until her body felt Dean. It was as if her soul knew he was there and responded before she even laid eyes on him.

“Mabel, I’m sorry I’m late. I had a few chores to take care of.”

Yasmine turned toward his voice and stared as he stripped off his coat. God help her, he wasn’t wearing his robes. His snugly fit jeans and black T-shirt hugged his body so well that she couldn’t stop staring. Suddenly edgy with a need, she began to shuffle from foot to foot.

“No worries! I’m happy you could make it,” Mabel called out from her own station.

“Where do you want me?” Dean asked, his eyes finding hers. ‘Between my legs’ is what she wanted to say, but she bit the inside of her cheek and quickly looked away from his intense stare. The Lord is going to strike me down.

“The chickens are coming out of the roaster,” Mabel said. “Would you mind cutting them up? You can go work beside Yasmine. There is space over there.”

Yasmine’s eyes flicked up to Mabel, who was giving her a cheeky grin before she turned around. Wily-old-woman knew exactly what she was doing. Dean’s presence pressed against her like a warm hand with every step he took in her direction.

“Shit!” she swore as her shaky hands slipped with the sharp knife and sliced her finger. Yasmine jumped toward the sink before she bled all over her cut vegetables.

“Are you okay?” Dean was beside her in an instant and grabbed her hand, pulling it out of the water to inspect.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” she said quietly. She felt like every person in the room was staring at them, standing much closer than what was appropriate or necessary.

“It doesn’t look like you will need stitches.” Dean held out a small towel for her to take. “Hold the wound tight.”

She did as he asked and let him lead her by the elbow to wherever he was planning. They ended up in the employee bathroom that would have felt small with one person, but it was downright claustrophobic with two.

He bent over to open the cupboard, and she would have sworn he purposely rubbed his arm against her leg. She bit her lip and looked away from his taught back as she struggled to rein in an improper reaction. She was focusing so hard that she didn’t notice Dean stand until his finger was on her chin. He gently made her look at him, and her pulse jumped wildly.

Dean ran his tongue over his bottom lip, and she stared at it like it was her last meal. “Are you okay?”

Her voice croaked, and she had to clear her throat to try again. “I’m fine, just a little lightheaded.”

“Oh, then here, sit down.” Dean once more took her elbow and helped her to sit on the toilet seat lid. Dean knelt between her legs, and her eyes went wide as she looked for a way to escape the tiny space.

“Here, let me see your finger.” Her hand shook as she handed it over. She stared at the top of his head as he inspected the cut and tried to push all the sexy thoughts away. He was simply kind, and here she was lusting after him. “I was right. No stitches needed.”

Dean cleaned the cut and applied the band-aid with quick, efficient fingers. He stood and put everything away, and Yasmine took the moment to take a deep breath and steady herself.

“Can I have a moment? I need to use the lady’s room.” She gave him a small smile.

“Yes, of course, I will meet you out in the kitchen.”