Danny takes off her apron and throws it under the counter. Picking up her purse, she heads over toward me and I can feel my heart start beating faster. How in the world can someone that just finished working in a greasy diner look so damn good?
"Hey," she says. "Sorry but I ended up having to work later than I thought. I haven't had time to get showered or changed."
"Not a problem. Do you want to go back to your place so you can do that?"
She shakes her head. "We're not going anywhere fancy. Casual is better. Although, I probably smell like greasy french fries right now."
I don't know what possesses me but step closer to her and lean my head down so my nose is right behind her ear. I take a deep breath, dramatically inhaling so she can hear me. Then I whisper in her ear, "You smell delicious to me." And she does. Her shampoo smells like eucalyptus and orange blossoms. I actually watch as she shivers over my words and I feel like fucking Tarzan right now.
Stepping back, I turn to open the door and let her walk out ahead of me. I pull my keys out and start toward the passenger door of my black Range Rover. Glancing over my shoulder I see she's walking in the opposite direction. I put my keys back in my pocket and jog to catch up to her.
"Nice night for a walk," I remark.
She laughs and the sound warms my blood. It's rich and husky, and oh, so damn sexy.
"We're just walking to the bus stop. Tonight you'll see Boston 'Danny Style'. Although you are a little over-dressed to be riding the MBTA."
I give her a nonchalant smile. "No worries. I'm game."
She smiles back. "Good. I'd be disappointed if you weren't." Her words sound like a challenge and she has no idea how competitive I can be.
Oh, Danny, Danny. I know what you're trying to do and you should work a little harder to be less transparent. There is no doubt in my mind that Danny is trying to scare me off. If she thinks riding the transit bus is scary, she's clearly never had to dodge two-hundred pound defensemen to keep them from slamming you into the boards.
"So, where are we going? You said I'm over-dressed but you have to give me a better clue than that."
She just gives me an evasive smile and says, "You'll see."
I have to admit I'm now even more curious about her than before. I really kind of expected her to want me to take her to an expensive restaurant. I mean, that's usually what girls want. And the fact that she is taking us by public transit rather than using my insanely nice and ridiculously expensive car has me almost on pins and needles as to what to expect.
We don't get to talk much on the bus ride as it's packed with evening commuters. My first ride on the bus is not unpleasant though. The lack of seats means we have to stand up, and in close confines, Danny is pressed up against my side. She's holding on to a metal pole in front of her and I'm tall enough to hang onto an overhead strap with still enough bend in my arm. When the bus lurches or jostles, Danny's soft curves sway into me. A few times I place my hand on her back to help steady her and she shoots me a smirk which I return.
Finally, Danny indicates we've reached our destination and we step off with a few other travelers. It's starting to get dark and I'm a bit dismayed that we are in a fairly seedy looking area of town. The streets are lined with rubbish and I see more than one broken window on some of the buildings. I start to question Danny but she takes off across the street and I follow. We walk down the block and turn a corner, and run right into a line of people stretching out from a doorway. There has to be maybe twenty or so people in line and I'm confused. Were we at a nightclub?
Danny notices the look on my face and grabs my hand. She leads me past the line up to the front door, saying hello to a few people. And then I see a sign over the door..."Helping Hands Ministry". I glance back at the people standing in line and now I can plainly see what they are...homeless.
They range in diversity...black, white, yellow, young, old, men and women. The only common denominator they have is that they are all poor...very, very poor apparently. Some are dressed in rags while others have dirt covering them from head to toe. I know I'm gaping at these down trodden people but I can't help myself. I finally turn my head slowly to Danny and she's looking at me like she expects me to bolt.
"I volunteer a few times a week here. It's my night tonight and I thought you could help."
My brow furrows. "And this is where you want me to take you for dinner? Not very romantic."
She doesn't say anything but just watches me carefully.
I sigh and take her hand, heading toward the door. "Well, let's get busy then."
I'm pleased when Danny rewards me with a blinding, dimpled smile as I lead her through the front door.
She takes me through a lobby area and down a flight of stairs to the basement. She points off to a door that heads into a wing of the building that she tells me houses full time residents. When I ask about the people standing outside, she tells me they are just here to eat but they live out on the streets.
Danny opens up a set of double doors and we are in a large dining hall. There are folding tables that seat eight with metal chairs around each table. I find it odd that each table has a small vase on it with a little bunch of plastic flowers in each one. Most of the seats are taken and I can see that as people finish their meal and leave, volunteers are letting more people in.
I follow Danny around the perimeter of the room to the back where there is a service counter which reveals a large kitchen behind it. A swinging door to the side allows people to go in and out between the kitchen and dining area.
"It's about damn time you got here, Danny. I'm up over my ass in trying to get the food prepared for tomorrow."
"Chill out, Maverick. I'm here now and I brought help. But we both expect a good meal after we're done."
Danny looks at me and I mouth the word, Maverick?
She leans in and whispers, "Top Gun is his favorite movie."
I look over at Maverick. He's Asian and extremely short. He's wearing an apron over his clothes that's spattered with food and he's stirring a large pot on the stove. The hat on his head says, "Honey Badger Don't Care".
Danny opens a drawer and pulls out two aprons, throwing one at me. "Mav, this is Ryan. He's my wingman tonight."
I hate to admit, I don't appreciate the Top Gun reference. The wingman is supposed to help the other person get laid and I'll be damned if I'm going to help Danny do that.
Maverick looks at me, taking in my clothes. "He's dressed kind of fancy. Are you sure he can get his hands dirty."
Before Danny can answer, I say, "I'm sure I can get my hands dirty. Tell me what to do."
Mav just grunts at me but points to a pile of potatoes on the counter. I take my coat off and hang it over a chair, rolling my shirt sleeves up. After placing the apron on, I pick up a potato and start peeling. Danny comes up to stand beside me and starts helping. We work in companionable silence, mainly because Maverick is standing there and I'm thinking he might fillet me if we are not diligent in our duties.
When he leaves the kitchen, carrying the large pot that was on the stove with him, Danny leans her body toward me and gives me a nudge with her shoulder. "So, how are you doing?"
"Awesome. I love peeling potatoes. It's one of my favorite things in the world to do."
"First time, huh?"
I laugh. "Yup. But I always like to try new things so I can mark this off my bucket list."
We're both quiet for a minute, and then I say, "You know, Danny...bringing me here won't prove anything."
She looks at me and I can see shock on her face that I figured out her motive. She starts stammering about not trying to prove anything, but I wipe my hand off on a towel and place my finger over her lips. I lean in a little and murmur softly to her, "Don't deny it. It doesn't become you."
Her eyes are wide and confused, all for about three seconds then she bursts out laughing. "I guess I'm not going to be able to pull any fast ones on you."
"I got your number," I reassure her.
/>
We talk about mundane things while we work as there is just no opportunity for deeper conversation. I do find out that Danny has been volunteering here a few times a week since she was sixteen, which also leads her to confirm that she's a Boston native like me. Maverick bustles back and forth between the kitchen and dining area, bringing in dirty pots and serving pans. While the residents and street guests actually clean their own dishes and utensils at a washing station in the dining hall, the lovely duty of scrubbing the cookware falls to me and Danny.
After two hours of peeling potatoes, scrubbing pots and hauling garbage, I realize my back is actually a little sore. That surprises me because I'm a pretty fit guy. You can't play NCAA hockey and not be in top shape. I don't know how Danny does this twice a week and I'm finding myself respecting a girl for something I've never really experienced before in the opposite sex.
Dedication.
This is a crappy job and she actually volunteers to do it. It kind of humbles me.
I'm wiping down the last counter top and I look over at Danny. She's holding my sports jacket out to me. "You did great tonight. How about letting me buy you a beer?"
I put the cloth in the sink and take my apron off. Taking my coat from her, I drape it over my arm. I hold the other one out to her and she hooks her arm through it.
I smile down at her as she looks so freakin' adorable right now, her arm linked with mine. "I asked you out so the beer is on me."
CHAPTER 4
Danny
I'm impressed. Ryan has taken this like a champ. I fully expected him to pitch a fit when I told him we were riding the bus. I was ready for a tantrum when he saw the area of town we were in. And then I waited for him to bail when he realized we were working at a homeless shelter on our date. But he did none of those things.
Instead, the bastard kept a smile on his face and seemed to eagerly enjoy the work we were doing. And I say bastard because I also fully expected to finish this date tonight and we would go our separate ways. Now, I have to admit to myself I'm intrigued by him and more than a little attracted to him. I mean, I was attracted to him when I first saw him, but only in the way you see a really hot guy and think to yourself, "that's a really hot guy" and then you go on your way.
But now, I really want to know more about him. I'm attracted to him in a way I don't want to be.
I should have never asked him for a beer but here we are, back near campus and sitting in a popular hangout called Neely's. The waitress takes our order. I ask for a Bud Light and Ryan orders a Sam Adams and a plate of nachos.
"Nachos? Didn't that delicious bowl of soup satisfy your hunger tonight?" I tease him.
"I will agree that was one delicious bowl of soup we ate tonight, but it in no way was enough to fill me up."
I watch him frown after he says those words and his brow furrows deep.
"What's wrong?" I ask.
He shakes his head for a second, staring at the table. Then he looks up at me and my heart actually flips a little at the tortured look in his eyes. Now I'm concerned. "Ryan, what's wrong?"
"It's just...I make a flippant remark that the bowl of soup wasn't enough to fill me up. Then I order a plate of nachos. Those people back at the shelter...that bowl of soup is all they are getting tonight. I just realized..."
Our waitress arrives with the beers and sets them down. I'm glad for the slight interruption so I can collect my thoughts. Poverty and homelessness is not an easy subject to discuss.
"And you're feeling guilty." I don't ask it as a question but state the obvious. "Which is okay, Ryan. I feel that way too a lot of the time."
"I admire you a lot, Danny. Your commitment is...inspiring."
I take a sip of my beer and give a smile of thanks. "Well, the cause is a bit personal to me. My dad was homeless and he died out on the streets."
I'm not sure why I told Ryan that bit of personal information. I guess I didn't want him thinking that everyone had to be as involved as me. I didn't want him carrying guilt. And now he's looking at me...and his coppered eyes are swimming with...pity? No, that's not it. Sympathy. Definitely sympathy.
"What happened?" he asks softly.
I shrug my shoulders as if it's not a big deal, but it is. My dad fell down a spiral of despair and hopelessness that not even the love of his family could pull him out of. I took another sip of my beer and leaned forward with my arms resting on the table.
"My dad was a cop here in Boston. He worked narcotics and unfortunately, had a dirty partner. He got my dad dragged into stealing drugs from evidence and re-selling them on the streets. It was only a matter of time before they got busted and when they did, my dad's life was over for him."
It's funny how I can talk about him now without experiencing blinding pain because there was a long period where I couldn't. But as with all things, time can dull the hurt.
Ryan reaches across the table and takes my hand. He gently runs his thumb over the top while he holds it. "How did he end up homeless then?"
"His life just unraveled. First, he was fired. Although the DA cut him a deal to avoid prison time if he turned state's evidence against his partner and the other people involved, he was humiliated beyond repair. He started drinking... heavily. He became depressed. Ultimately, he started using drugs... hardcore stuff like heroin. Eventually my mom had to ask him to leave the house. He did but being unemployed and an addict, he ended up on the streets."
Ryan squeezed my hand. "I am so sorry, Danny."
I give him a squeeze back. My eyes are dry because I have no tears left for my dad. I try now to remember only the good about him. "It's okay. It took me a long time to come to peace with it."
The waitress arrives with Ryan's nachos. She sets them on the table and gives us each a plate. I watch as Ryan takes a heaping pile and I pick one up to nibble at it.
"How did he die?" Ryan asks.
"Well, he actually got into Helping Hands Ministry and tried to clean himself up. In fact, the last memories of my dad are me going there to visit him. He actually was sober for a few months but then relapsed. He went back out on the streets, peddling drugs and eventually he got shot in a deal gone bad."
Ryan is silent for a minute. And it's okay. It's not uncomfortable and I watch him pick at his nachos. Finally, he pushes the plate aside and leans forward, crossing his arms on the table. He looks directly in my eyes with a seriousness that makes me swallow hard.
"I'm beyond sorry--."
I cut him off by holding my hand up. I give him a genuine smile. "You don't have to be sorry. I'm serious when I say I made my peace with it."
Ryan is shaking his head back and forth, and the look on his face is sad. "No, listen to me. I'm sorry because before tonight...I never once thought about any of this. I'm not sure I've even seen a homeless person outside of TV. And I am feeling all kinds of bad that I didn't bother to notice. But I'm grateful that you showed me something new tonight. Something everyone should see."
Ryan pauses and looks down at the table. My heart breaks a little for him because I can see that his ignorance of these issues is causing him some real pain. I don't know what to say to him. I feel clueless and all of a sudden, I'm thinking how very bad this evening is turning. Because I'm starting to feel something for this man sitting across from me and it's the last thing in the world I want right now.
And yet, I'm helpless when I reach across the table and take his hand in mine. With my other hand, I stroke the back of his, running my fingers lightly over the crisp hairs. I turn his palm up and trace my index finger over his callouses, reveling in how they feel against my soft skin. With my thumb, I trace around the outer edge of his thumbnail, almost absentmindedly while I think of something comforting to say to him.
I sneak a glance up at him and my breath catches. He is looking at me with such startling intensity that I drop his hand.
"Don't," he rasps. Then he clears his throat. "Don't stop touching me."
I am mesmerized by his look and I think I mi
ght go up in flames right now. The hunger in his eyes...for my touch, my approval...is overwhelming. I tentatively pick his hand back up and start touching him as he asked. I feel a connection to him that words can't describe at this point. I'm sure I'll spend a lot of time later analyzing it.
I opt for a change of subject to ease the tension.
"So, why do you have all these callouses on your hand?" I realize how that sounds and start snickering. "I mean--that is--if you can tell me in polite company."
Ryan pulls his hands back and snorts at me. He pulls his nachos back over and tucks in. "They're from playing hockey."
"Do you play inter-mural or something?"
His smile at me is one of indulgence. "I play for Northeastern. I'm the captain of our team."
I choke on the swallow of beer that was heading down my throat but is now headed for my lungs. Ryan patiently waits while I hack and cough to clear my throat. He actually smiles at me while he's chewing his food, patiently waiting for me to catch my breath.
"You're the captain of the team? The Northeastern, NCAA, Division I hockey team?"
I can see he's enjoying my shock.
"Sure am. Are you a hockey fan?"
"Uh, hello...born and raised in Boston. Of course, I'm a hockey fan."
Ryan gives me a smirk but rather than want to slap his face, I want to run my fingers along his jaw. He has dark stubble gracing the hard lines and it makes him look dangerously sexy.
"Well, for someone who is such a hockey fan, how come you didn't know I am the captain of your school's hockey team?"
"Touche, Mr. Burnham...touche." I give him a mock salute.
He pops another nacho in his mouth and gives me a wicked grin. "That's Captain Burnham to you." I just roll my eyes at him and take another sip of my beer. This time, it goes down smoothly.
***
Ryan is driving me to my apartment now and I'm brooding over what has occurred. I agreed to go out with him tonight thinking he would be scared away from someone like me. Not that I think I'm deficient in any way. It's just we come from two vastly different worlds. We are definitely not "peas and carrots".
However, I have found Ryan Burnham to be more than the pretty face that first caught my eye. He's funny, charming, kind and in no way the stuck up prig I originally thought he might be.