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“Now wait a minute.” I held up both my hands. “You can call him baby, but I can’t call you sugar?” I shook my finger before she could answer. “And why don’t I get any love?”
She swatted me with the dishtowel hanging over her shoulder. “Because you’re trouble.”
“I’ll be therein half an hour. Love you.” Easton ended the call and shoved his phone back in his pocket. I made a face, knowing exactly who that tone was reserved for. “I have to go, but I’ll pick you up tonight.”
“Hard being in two places at once, isn’t it?” I should’ve protested I could make my own way home, but the truth was, I wanted him to go out of his way for me.And if I’m honest? Especially if it pisses off his wife.
He arched a brow. “Yes, but I’ll make it work.”
I watched as he disappeared toward the foyer. He wasn’t the only one needed in other places. My phone had been ringing so much, I’d had to turn it off. Surprisingly, it was a relief to be out of touch. I was almost delusional enough to think my problems had disappeared.
I collected the bin of dirty dishes from lunch and took them to the kitchen. Where was the tigress? I hadn’t seen her or her mutt all day, and I’d most definitely been looking. Had she taken off already? She wouldn’t have gotten far on what was in my wallet. My credit cards were all maxed out, and the cash . . . there wasn’t any to speak of.
As I loaded the dishwasher, a woman I’d seen around approached with her own dishes.
I set the plate I’d been about to load on the counter and held out my hand. “Allow me,” I said with the most charming smile I could muster. She was completely unmoved. Whatever had happened to her, someone—most likely male—had fucked her up, so much so that she didn’t even want to look at me.
“Thank you,” she said, averting her eyes.
“You’re welcome.” I kept my tone as unassuming as possible because I didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. I was an asshole, but not to women. Well, not women who were down on their luck. “Last night, you made an extra plate. Need me to get you one?” Her head jerked up in surprise. “Just because I don’t talk to anyone doesn’t mean I’m not paying attention.”
She laughed, albeit nervously, but her shoulders relaxed slightly. “Yes, I’d like a plate to take with me. But I can get it.”
I shook my head. “I’ll procrastinate doing dishes any way I can.” Her smile widened as I grabbed a clean plate, and she followed as I went to the leftovers. “Some of everything?”
“Please.”
I scooped field peas onto the plate, making sure to keep my attention on the task, not her, so she’d be more at ease. She was fine around women and children, almost a social butterfly from what I’d seen yesterday, but around me, she was closed off. “You have a big appetite?” I asked, pointing at the chicken with the tongs.
She laughed nervously again. “No. It’s for one of the new residents. I think she’s having a hard time adjusting. It’s like that when you first get here.”
I ignored the pang of sadness I felt for the stranger. I wanted information, not her life story. “The one with the black eye and the dog?”
She looked uncertain for a second, as if she wasn’t sure she should discuss another resident. “When Sonya’s face heals, it will be easier for her to be around other people,” she said quietly, sympathetically. I fought the urge to roll my eyes. Little Miss Innocent wore that bruise to her advantage. She’d had no problem coming out of her room to swipe my wallet.
“I’m sure.” I pointed at the plate. “Should I wrap this up?”
“No. I’m taking it right now.”
“Let me get you some silverware. Think she likes tea, lemonade, or water?”
She looked uncertain again. “Why don’t we try lemonade? Everyone likes a nice cold glass of that, right?” There was still an innocence about this woman underneath her wariness. She was a good person. It didn’t take much to see that, even to someone who wasn’t.
“Right,” I agreed. I hated lemonade, and normally, I would have said as much. Yet here I was trying not to hurt her feelings. “I’m Drew, by the way.” I scooped ice into a glass and filled it with the pale yellow liquid.
“Trish.” Her eyes turned to the floor as soon as she said her name.
I wanted to tell her she could look at me, that I wasn’t going to hurt her, but instead, I held out the glass. “Want help carrying this?”
“No, I have it,” she insisted, her strength and shyness coming and going in waves.
“At least let me get the door.”
She nodded and smiled. “Nice to meet you,” she said, much to my surprise.
“Likewise.”
“Why are you here? Most volunteers who know Vivian don’t come every day,” she observed.
