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“I see you met Whitney,” Thorin sighs as they approach. “She’s going to be your friend.”
It takes several seconds to digest that he’s informing me, not asking me. Though I refuse to look like a dick and say that’s not how adults work when creating friendships. “Why are they here?”
“He’s secretly a nosy fucker,” Thorin says without any heat to his words. “Whitney wants friends, so he’s here because she is. They’re nauseating.”
Whitney rolls her eyes at him before directing her attention to me. “What exactly are we going to be doing?”
I eye Aillard and Thorin warily. They’re definitely not dressed for tonight at all. “Do either of you have something less executive to change into?”
Aillard glances down at himself. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”
A sigh leaves me. “You realize we’re going to be essentially babysittingunderprivilegedchildren, correct? We’re making dinner and tutoring or doing arts and crafts with the smaller kids. You can’t go in there like that.”
Whitney’s eyes widen dramatically. “Oh, she’s right. Take off your jacket.” She eyes Thorin. “And you, take off your jacket and vest.” She makes gimme hands to both of them. “And your ties. You can’t go in there like this. We need less CEOs and more choir boys.”
“We’re babysitting?” Thorin frowns. “I thought we were maybe donating items to children.”
“You’re donating your time,” I say matter of factly. “She’s right. Strip.”
Thorin’s eyebrows slide up. “Be careful what you ask for, Bex. This is a church parking lot after all.” Slowly, he slips his jacket down his arms before folding it and handing it to me for safekeeping. Then his vest comes next. The buttons glide as they slip out of their holes. A shiver runs down my spine watching Thorin undress. It’s a delicious form of torture that my body weeps for, even as my mind reminds me this isn’t the time to be fantasizing about what Thorin looks like if he were to keep going.
Shit.
I can’t be lusting for him. Nope. Nuh-uh. That only ends one way and it’s in heartache. Been there, done that, got the fridge magnet as a parting gift. Pressing my lips together, I try to control my inner diva as Thorin loosens the tie at his neck, slipping it over his head and laying it on the pile in my hands. He still looks good in his dark slacks and navy shirt. The powerful way he’s built, with narrow hips and strong shoulders are even more prominent without the excess clothing. His biceps strain against the movement of his arms as he gathers the clothing back from me.
“I’ll run them back to the car.” Aillard’s voice acts as a scratching record, pulling me completely out of my daze as he takes the clothing from Thorin and treks back into the parking lot.
“Now you look like nice choir boys,” Whitney laughs. She turns to smile at me before dropping her gaze at my outfit.
Out of everyone, I’m the most casually dressed in cutoffs and a tee with my Chucks on. I hardly have any business attire clothing in my closet. Enough to get me through a week and play mix-match the next one.
When Aillard returns I try to give them a layout of how things will work. “There’s four groups, but really there’s only three you can choose from. Food, tutoring, arts and crafts, and nursery. But the nursery isn’t on the table, as it’s run strictly by the church with their paid early education teachers.”
Aillard frowns. “I can tutor.”
“I can help with cooking,” Whitney offers.
Everyone turns towards Thorin. He surprises me when he says, “What do you usually do?”
“I start in the kitchen to make sure we have enough food for all the kids and then I help with arts and crafts after dinner is over.”
Thorin nods as if my explanation makes perfect sense to someone who’s clearly never been around small kids a day in their life. “Maybe I’ll stick to arts and crafts then.” He looks down at the remnants of his suit. “Probably best if I stay away from food.”
Instead of warning him about arts and crafts, I decide it’s best if Thorin gets an authentic volunteer experience. “Sounds good. Let’s head inside.”
We slip in through the mob of kids into the church’s nave. The chairs usually set in rows are only around a couple of fold out tables, the rest are stacked up against the wall. A few kids are standing in circles talking to friends while the adults gather everything.
I point towards one of the tables with a bunch of kids leaning over stacks of papers. “That’s the homework table,” I tell Aillard. “Just go over and introduce yourself. They’ll ask you to help them if they need outside perspectives. Keep an eye out for anyone struggling, sometimes they’re stubborn. We’ll break for dinner and then come back.”
He gives me a two finger salute before sauntering over there. Immediately a bunch of the boys pause to speak with him. It’s rare we have any male volunteers.
“Sometimes the kids make up games to play. But they’re doing paper plate art tonight. Someone will help you pass out glue, plates, and Cheerios.” I place both my hands on Thorin’s broad shoulders, a shock zinging through my body at the connection. “There’s something really,reallyimportant you need to know before going over there and helping.”
Thorin raises both eyebrows expectantly.
“Donotlet them glue Cheerios to their face.”
Whitney snorts from beside me. “Is that an actual thing you have to worry about?”
