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“We clearly define sexy differently,” Ren decides, and I chuckle. When his phone buzzes, he pulls it out and then frowns at the screen. I watch as he takes a deep breath, closes whatever he was looking at, and tucks his phone back into his pocket. “Come on, we don’t want to be late.” His energy shifted after that message, but I don’t want to be nosy by asking if everything is okay.
Once we’re in the car, I turn to him and stare. “Are you going to tell me why I needed to be awake at six in the morning on a weekend?”
“We are headed to volunteer. Somewhere locally,” he answers vaguely.
“Oh, really? I’ve never volunteered in the community before! That's exciting!” I do a happy dance in my seat as Ren frowns at me.
“Hmm,” he says, making me lift a brow.
“Thought I’d hate volunteer work?” I narrow my eyes at him. Did he get the impression I think I’m too good to volunteer?
“No. But you’re more excited than I expected,” he admits, and I shrug.
“This is still a date, right? You’re not using me to fill community service hours?”
“I mean, it’s a date. But I am going to log these hours,” he chuckles.
“Is this your go-to for first dates?” I wonder. Or is he putting in minimal effort? If so, he’s about to be really disappointed when I have a blast being a good human.
“No. But you’re not like the girls I used to date.”
“Is that an insult or a compliment?”
“Neither? There’s nothing wrong with being the kind of girl who doesn’t want to do this kind of thing.” Ren lifts one shoulder.
“Agreed.” I pause. “Unless they frown down on people who do.”
“Agreed,” he mimics, making me smirk.
“So, are you going to tell me what we’re doing today, or…?”
“Nope. You’ll see. Now, I want to surprise you.” I don’t respond. I’m curious as heck, but I don’t want to keep asking. One of us will start to get annoyed if I do.
When we pull up to a house with no signs or anything to indicate this is a business, shelter, or rescue and not just someone's home, I frown.
“Now, I’m confused,” I decide, making him chuckle.
“Hush, get that cute butt inside.” He winks, climbing out of the car and wasting no time getting inside.
I won’t argue with that. We walk in the front door without knocking, which I hate. But Ren insisted. The house is huge, and from the first step inside, it’s clear we’re in a home and not a business.
“Sam!” Ren greets as he walks into a room just to the left of the front door. “This is Rose.” As he steps to the side, I’m greeted by a lovely older woman. Long, gray hair and bright eyes. She’s wearing a kaleidoscope of colors, along with a pink apron.
She goes in for a hug, and her gray hair smells like lavender as it ambushes my face. It’s frizzy and messy but clearly clean. She smells like a grandma.
“Lovely to meet you–” she starts.
“Oh my god, kitties!” I cry when I see what's behind her. I pull away and drop to my knees. There are at least fifteen kittens running around the floor.
“We’re making online profiles for these babies and adding them to the website, as well as making posters for an adoption event next weekend,” says the woman I rudely dodged in favor of the baby cats.
“We have two more rooms as well, Rose,” Ren adds, and I gasp.
“Two more rooms of kitties?!” I cry, looking up at the man currently smirking at me. He looks far too satisfied with himself. Was he trying to throw me off by saying volunteer work like this would be some kind of horrible chore? Was it a test to see if I was going to throw a fit?
Or does Ren know me better than I realized? It’s not like I spend a lot of time talking about my interests. But then, neither does he.
“Yes. Samantha runs a non-profit. It’s still pretty small, as you can see. I help when I can,” he says, and I nod.
