Page 71 of Win Big

“I know!” I grab my clothes, still lying on the floor from when he undressed me last night. This isn’t a sexy, graceful moment as I struggle into my panties and bra.

Wyatt moves off the bed too, and hands me my jeans.

“I have to be somewhere.” I fight my way into the skinny jeans, my feet catching in the blown-out knees. “Argh!”

“Where? I’ll take you.”

“In the same clothes I wore last night?” I close my eyes briefly.

“Where are we going?” he asks again, patiently.

I take a breath and blow it out. “I don’t... okay, fine. I volunteer Sunday mornings at a homeless shelter.” I pull on my camisole.

His mouth drops open. “Oh. Okay.”

“It’s not far from my place. I can change quickly. I’m supposed to be there by ten, but if I’m a few minutes late, they won’t kick me out.”

“Okay.” He grabs a pair of boxers out of a drawer, steps into his jeans, and dons a clean T-shirt. “I didn’t know you did that.”

“Nobody does,” I mutter.

He shoots me a curious look and waves me out of the bedroom ahead of him. Soon we’re cruising along Pacific Avenue. It’s sunny but wicked windy, palm trees blowing and tossing.

Shit, shit, shit. I hate being late. I’m never late. I’d rather be somewhere way too early than be late.

“Relax,” Wyatt says, shooting me a sideways glance. “What’s wrong?”

“I hate being late.”

“Yeah, I hate it when a woman is late too.”

I scowl at him. “You’re disgusting.”

He laughs. “Lighten up, princess. What are they going to do? Fire you?”

“Ha.” I wrinkle my nose. “I don’t know why I hate it so much.”

“Could it be because you have to be perfect?”

“I don’t...” I shut my mouth, and he laughs softly.

“So why the secret volunteer work?”

I sigh. “It’s not secret, exactly. I just don’t like to talk about it. I started doing it about a year ago.”

“Yeah?”

“I know the work I do every day gives back to the community, but it feels... distant, sometimes. I sit in an office and manage a bunch of people and we raise lots of money. Then my dad hands out a giant check and makes people happy. But I hardly ever get to see the results of giving that money. So I found something I can do myself. Nobody at the shelter knows who I am.”

“Ah.”

“I know I’m privileged. I grew up with money and everything I needed. My parents were both pretty firm about making sure we didn’t totally take it for granted, but even so... I don’t want to live in a bubble and not know how tough things are for some people. And maybe give back in some small way.”

He nods slowly.

At my place, I hurry inside, Wyatt following me. I quickly change into clean clothes, jeans with a Hope Home T-shirt. I wash my face, still wearing remnants of last night’s makeup, pull my hair back into a ponytail, and smash a baseball cap down onto my head.

Wyatt grins when he sees me.

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