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Jasmine blinked her eyes open. The warm sun shone on her. She’d fallen back to sleep. Picking up her phone, she checked the time. Shit. She was late. Clicking the waiting message, she shot out of bed.
Atlas: Aaron and his crew are here. I’ve got everything covered until you’re ready to make an appearance. Take your time.
Could this man get any more perfect? She smiled, tucked the phone in her pocket, and headed into the bathroom to brush her teeth and relieve herself before getting changed.
She made her way downstairs, following the voices bleeding out from the kitchen. Atlas stood in front of the stove, laughing and joking with Marge. The older woman was the main cook at Hope Facility, and she was a riot.
A few of the younger male volunteers stood nearby, ogling Atlas from afar. She didn’t blame them; he was a sight to behold. Especially in the laid-back look of board shorts and a tight-fitting T-shirt.
“So what’s the secret to the sauce?” Atlas asked Marge.
She put her hands on her hips. “You know a lady never reveals her secrets.” She winked, reaching out to grab his bicep. “Even if the one who’s asking is as fine as you.”
He chuckled again, his gaze meeting Jasmine’s. “Hey, sweetheart. Marge here was just showing me how to make a proper chili dog sauce.”
“She makes the best in town.” Jasmine smiled.
Marge cut her an unimpressed look. “In town? Honey, you know my shit’s the best in the state.”
Jasmine laughed. “You’re so modest.”
Marge brushed her long, grey dreads back. “Modesty is for boring people.”
Atlas stirred the large pot.
“Why don’t you make yourself useful and bring these out to Aaron. I got this handled.” Marge gave the platter with the packages of hot dogs to Atlas.
“Yes, ma’am.” He took it as Jasmine opened the back door, holding it ajar for him.
“Jaz!” Aaron said, holding out his arms for a hug.
She walked over to him, reached up on tiptoes, and squeezed him back tightly.
“You’re too short to hug. I feel like I need to pick you up like a kid.” Aaron laughed.
She pulled away and slapped his chest playfully. “Maybe you’re the one who’s too tall. Remember, great things come in small packages.”
He chuckled.
“Have you met Atlas?” she asked.
Aaron nodded. “Yeah, we met earlier. Thanks for the help, man.”
“My pleasure. Is it okay if I throw these on the grill?”
“Yup. It’s hot and ready,” Aaron said, opening the top.
After lunch, the group of teens spread out on the beach. Some played volleyball while others tossed the Frisbee back and forth. A few of them were brave enough to swim in the cold Atlantic waters. Zoey would love this when she got home from Bently’s.
“These kids are pretty cool. This seems like a great program.”
“Thanks,” Aaron said.
Atlas pulled out a black card from his pocket and handed it to Aaron. “Give me a call next week. I’d like to donate something to your cause.”
She eyed the matte card with the words Remington Empire written in glossy writing.
