Page 15 of Fated Mates and How to Seduce Them
“You’ll be the first I call, I promise.” André hit a button on the steering wheel to end the call. “One of these days, my mother will stop being stingy and let me have Secretary Kim instead of just sharing him.”
Ian ignored this nonsense and focused on the important bit. He tried hard to sound patient. He mostly failed. “André. You cannot possibly buy so many things that you’ll fill three vehicles.”
André snorted, then laughed outright. “I can do that without even the excuse of shopping for someone else. I am my mother’s child. But think about it. Thirty-six kids means alotof stuff. With all the toys, bedding, clothes, and—”
“Wait, wait,” Ian sputtered, “why are you buying them clothes and bedding? I thought you were just buying toys.”
“But they need new clothes, and the bedding is likely past its prime.”
Ian couldn’t argue with him. The bedding had been well worn even when he’d lived there almost a decade ago.
André absently gestured to the briefcase in the back seat with one hand. “While I drive, why don’t you pull their lists out and compile them all into one master list? Then we can shop more efficiently.”
If Ian compiled the list, then he might be able to curtail André’s more extravagant whims while shopping.
Yes, he realized this was wishful thinking, but dammit, he clung to the hope anyway. Just thinking of spending so much gave Ian hives. He might have a stroke watching it play out in front of his eyes. Ian had never in his life had money to justspend. Even after being adopted, he didn’t carelessly spend. His father had donated a lot of the money he’d made into group homes and outreach programs, so he and Ian had lived well butmodestly. Ian still carried this attitude with him. Even thinking of buying something expensive and frivolous gave him panic attacks sometimes because he was used to keeping money close.
Part of the reason why he couldn’t take André seriously was because this man likely burned through cash without thinking about it. They had entirely different values. Ian didn’t even know how to relate to him.
He reached back and grabbed the briefcase anyway—a designer brand, of course—and pulled the sheets out. It contained a notepad as well, which he chose to use for the master list.
Ian began with an efficient mindset, but his heart started breaking three lists in. Some of what the kids asked for tugged at his heartstrings. Kimmie had asked for shoes instead of toys, for fuck’s sake. No ten-year-old should have to do that.
“Talk to me about the group home,” André encouraged. “How did it get started? Why doesn’t it have any real budget?”
“The group home was born out of necessity because there wasn’t one in this area before Second Sun. A retired principal and his wife were the original founders, and Mary is their daughter.”
“Ahhh. Okay, the vision is coming together. And she’s running it with, what? A wing and a prayer?”
“Pretty much. She used the money from her parents’ estate to keep it going for years, but funding dried up around the time I was adopted. My father contributed what he could, which helped, but you’ve seen the state of the building. Renovations eat into the yearly budget. Then you have to consider the health issues some of the kids have. Most kids we get aren’t orphaned so much as abandoned. They have medical issues that are just too much for parents to handle, so they give them to us thinking we can take care of them. There’s a minuscule governmentbudget that’s basically used to keep the place going, but it’s absolutely not sufficient for the task.”
Ian hated the helplessness that came along with trying to keep everything going, to protect and care for the kids who relied on having a safe place. The unrelenting stress of it all had kept him awake more nights than he could remember.
“So you manage, but only barely.” André shook his head, expression tight. “Damn, talk about being between a rock and a hard place. Well, it ends now. Although, now I know I need to ask Mary and Emma about any outstanding hospital bills. I’ll clear those out so they don’t keep adding stress.”
Ian studied his profile, confusion rising to a whole new level. André really listened. He wasn’t just asking for politeness’ sake or to carry on a conversation. He wanted to know. He heard what Ian said, saw the undercurrent, and reacted.
A rich playboy shouldn’t have that quality about him.
Would André’s reputation even recognize the man himself if they passed on the street?
Ian didn’t know how to respond to this latest offer, so he focused on the lists again. The lists, at least, he could make sense of. André just confused the hell out of him.
After a minute of silence, André asked, “Have you gotten Casper back to your place yet?”
Pulled back to André, Ian lifted his head. He remembered that? “Oh. Yes. A few days ago.”
“She doing all right?”
“Yes, quite well. We’re still litter box training, but she seems happier to be in a safe place. I had a vet check her out, and she got a clean bill of health.” If André was going to keep engaging, Ian much preferred this topic of conversation. It was less rife with potential pitfalls.
“Good. I know you were worried about leaving her the other day. I doubled back before I left campus, just to say hi to her,but she informed me I was not you. I got to hear all about it. Probably should have brought tuna with me or something. It might have gone over better.”
He’d…gone to check on Casper? Ian rubbed his head, feeling a headache brewing. “She’s a little wary of strangers.”
“Caught that, yeah. I like cats a lot, but I admit I don’t have a lot of experience with them. As I mentioned before, I moved around too much as a kid, so we never got to have pets. I’m going to win over Casper, though; just wait.”
Win over Casper or win over her owner? Ian barely kept the question locked firmly behind his teeth. It was damn tempting to ask, though. Not like he needed to—he more or less knew the answer.
