Page 34 of The Rules of Dating a Younger Man

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I was late getting to Ryan’s House on Friday morning. Luckily most volunteers only came for Saturday and Sunday, so it was only the team leaders and two other volunteers who’d gotten into town early.

Alex smirked when I walked into the kitchen. “Good morning, sleepyhead.”

I raked a hand through my hair. “What’s so good about it?”

She bit her lip, trying to hide her amusement. “Did you not sleep so well?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Gosh, I slept like a baby.”

I grabbed a paper cup and pulled the lever on the Dunkin’ Box O’ Joe on the table. A few drops trickled out.

“Sorry,” Alex said. “We finished the last of it. But I was just about to go pick up some waters. I can grab you a coffee.”

“Whatever.” I pouted.

Then Chad, another volunteer I hadn’t realized was here, walked into the room. I wasn’t a big fan of his, mostly because he was good looking, closer to Alex’s age than me, and followed her around like a puppy.

“I’m going for a Dunkin’ run,” Alex said. “You want anything, Chad?”

“No, but I’ll take the ride with you.”

Great. As if I weren’t already in a piss-poor mood. But whatever. I had shit to do. So I went about starting my day while the two of them disappeared. I was on my second trip hauling in boxes of tile from my car when a man walked up. He was dressed in tattered clothes, had silver duct tape wrapped around the front of one sneaker, and had a large green duffle bag slung over his shoulder. He looked vaguely familiar.

“Is this the Ryan’s House project?”

I nodded. “It is. How can I help you?”

The man extended his hand. “Charlie Nolan. I’m volunteering.”

I set down the box of tile and shook. “Good to meet you, Charlie.”

He gestured to the tile and then my car, which was parked out front. “You got more of those in there?”

“About a dozen.”

Charlie nodded. “Let me put my bag down, and I’ll give you a hand.”

“Thanks.”

The new volunteer and I carried in the rest of the tile. When we were done, I smacked dirt from my hands. “You look familiar. Have we met before?”

“Were you at the last project?” he asked. “The one in Jersey?”

“I wasn’t. Did you volunteer for that one, too?”

Charlie nodded. “I live in New Brunswick. Well, I used to anyway.”

“Do you live here now? Upstate New York?”

He shook his head. “Not really. I’m sort of floating these days. A couple days here, a couple days there…”

It hit me where I’d seen Charlie before. Yesterday when I’d arrived, I’d parked my Porsche in a remote area of the parking lot—so it wouldn’t get dinged by a big truck opening its doors. There had been a homeless guy setting up a cardboard shanty in the grassy area right behind me. I’d waved, but kept going.

“Well, we’re glad to have you here. Do you mind if I ask what brought you to volunteer at Ryan’s House?” It was a question I asked everyone. Some people just looked for a project to help out with, but the majority of our volunteers had a story—a reason they donated their time to a cancer-related charity. And those people liked to share what had brought them.

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