Page 65 of When You Left Me Speechless

“I doubt it. It’s hard to get people to come in on a Saturday. Looks like it’s just you and me.”

“What can I help with?”

I walk her around the room, showing her how things are currently organized and the large pile of donations that need to be sorted. Being alone with her is nearly unbearable. I watch as she pulls her hair back out of her face, exposing the sensitive spot on her neck. She is wearing leggings that hug every bit of her legs and show off her ass. I don’t think I have ever seen her wear something she doesn’t look incredibly sexy in, but these leggings make me want to forget we are at the school.

“Stop staring,” she teases. “We have work to do.”

“Hard not to when you look like that.”

We begin to sort through the donated food and place it on the shelves. After a few long, quiet minutes, I decide to break the silence. “I thought you were studying today?”

“Well, I doubt a few hours of my day will make that big of a difference.” She stocks a few more cans before I hear her let out a long sigh.

“Tired already,” I laugh. “You haven’t even been here for thirty minutes?”

“No, I’m fine. It’s just I wish more of the cans were pop tops.” I stop what I’m doing again and turn around to see what she is talking about.

“Huh?”

“People don’t think about how most canned goods require a can opener. If we sent this can of corn,” she holds up a can, showing me the top, “home with a kid that doesn’t own one, they wouldn’t be able to eat it.”

“I’ve never thought about it, but I guess you’re right.”

“I had never thought about it either until one weekend my family was helping pass out boxes of food, and a young mom brought her box back and asked if she could exchange the cans.”

“You volunteer at food banks often?”

“Growing up, my family volunteered most weekends. Once I graduated high school, I stopped going with my parents because I was, well, I was busy, I guess. I miss those days, though. My dad always said it meant more to give our time than our money…”

“Sounds like our dads are very different men.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean?—”

“No, I know.” I shrug my shoulders. “So, is that why you came today? Because you missed it?”

“Yes and no. The other day, I was talking with my dad about how stressed I am with school. He suggested I volunteer at the senior center to remind myself why I wanted to be a speech therapist in the first place.” She stops stocking canned vegetables and looks over her shoulder to where I'm stocking a shelf of boxed macaroni and cheese. “And then I saw the flier in the break room, and I decided I wanted to do something for the kids here instead. I’ve really grown to love them and thought I could leave Pecan Grove a little better than I found it.”

“You’re incredible, you know that?” The words come out before I can stop them, and I hear her breath hitch.

“Logan.” Her cheeks blush, and she takes a deep breath. “I was thinking we should add no compliments to our rules.Compliments complicate things, and they don’t feel casual, they feel?—”

“What do they feel like?”

“Serious. They feel serious and, I don’t, well, we aren’t serious.”

“I’m not going to stop complimenting you. You deserve to know how extraordinary I think you are.”

POPPY

Extraordinary?He thinks I’m extraordinary?I feel my cheeks blush, and I turn back to the shelves before he can see me smile.

When I walked into the Pecan Grove food pantry today, the last person I expected to see was Logan. I would be lying if I said I didn’t fall for him a little more when I found out not only was he volunteering, but he runs the whole damn project. I’d also be lying if I said I wasn’t enjoying his company. We both move around the room, shuffling boxes of donations and stocking the shelves.

I can feel his eyes on me and every time I meet his gaze with a smile.This is not good, or is it?When he walks past me, I get a whiff of his soap, and it takes everything in me to remind myself we are literally inside the school, and I can not act on any feeling I am having. I’m still trying to wrap my mind around the fact he cares enough to be here.

“Where do we put items that can’t be accepted?” I ask, standing with a dented can of green beans and walking toward him.

At the same moment, he stands and walks toward me. I zig when I should have zagged, and our bodies crash into each other. The feel of his body against mine makes my stomach flip, and knees buckle. You would think I didn’t justgive him a blow job two days ago and instead I’m just some girl with a silly crush.

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