Page 49 of Sin With Me
I grab her wrist before she pulls away, then lean in closer. “Gimme one good reason why we can’t be more than friends.”
Her gaze locks on mine as I tower over her. “We’d be toxic together.”
Arching a brow, my spine straightens, and I release my hold on her. “Toxic how?”
“Our siblings are datin’ and our lives are too intertwined. It’d make things awkward if we broke up. One or both of us will end up hurt. And it’s not like we could avoid each other forever. Then what?”
“Who says we’d break up?”
“You’ve never been in a serious relationship, so what makes you think we could make one work with all the history between us?”
The history neither of us has ever brought up.
Stepping closer, I close the gap between us and rest my forehead against hers, defeated. With a deep sigh, I respond, “That’s exactly how I know it would…but I guess you’re not ready to havethatconversation either.”
My heart hammers so loud with anger and frustration, I wouldn’t be shocked if she hears it when I storm away.
I arrive at the shelter five minutes late, but Miss Tierney waves me off when I apologize for my tardiness. She greets me with a smile and brings me back to the office.
“Even though this is part of your probation hours, we have rules we expect everyone to follow.”
“Yes, ma’am. Whatever you need me to do. I’m not here to cause any trouble,” I reassure her.
She furrows her brows when I call her ma’am, but she’s probably in her late thirties, five to seven years older than meif I had to guess. But she knows my mom from the local 4-H program where Landen helps some of the kids with riding and roping lessons. She’s one of the moms of a boy he’s trained.
She goes through their rules and expectations. This is one of the larger shelters in the state and it’s always at capacity. I’m ashamed to say I’ve never volunteered at one before, so even though this is for my community service mandate, I’m glad I’m here to help.
“You’re gonna start in the back of the kitchen. Once you get a feel for things, you could get moved to the front. People who come here are in a vulnerable condition and are used to certain volunteers, so that’s why it’s a gradual change when we add in new people.”
“No problem. I don’t mind helpin’ in the kitchen. Whatever you need,” I say genuinely.
“Perfect!” she beams. “Fill out this paperwork and then I’ll give you a tour.”
Miss Tierney introduces me to some of the staff members as well as the volunteers who come on a regular basis. Most are older, in their sixties and seventies, but they glare at me like I’m in an orange jumpsuit and handcuffs.
Miss Tierney must’ve told them why I was coming ahead of time.
She shows me around the kitchen, gives me the basics on the tasks I’ll be doing, and then she brings me back to the office.
“Me or another supervisor have to sign off on your hours after each shift. So make sure you find someone before you leave for the day. I know you work long hours at the ranch, so I scheduled you for Saturday and Sunday afternoons. You’ll work through dinner prep and meal cleanup, then you’re free to go.”
Perhaps it’s a good thing Dad made Landen and me switch jobs since there’s less work on the stud farm and I can take the weekends off to be here.
“Sounds good. I’ll see you in four days, then.”
Standing, she takes my hand and shakes it. “Regardless of the reason, I’m glad you’ll be here. Your natural charm will make the women feel more comfortable around you.”
I involuntarily blush and grin at her compliment. “Uh, thanks?”
Though I hadn’t considered that a man working in a shelter for women and children would raise concerns, I can understand why. Who knows what they’ve gone through and the last thing I’d want to do is make any of them uneasy.
She snickers, patting my arm. “You’re welcome. We’ll see you Saturday at four.”
When I get to my truck, I check my phone and am disappointed when I don’t see any notifications from Delilah. Not that I expected her to text, but I hate how unresolved things feel between us, and I’d hoped she’d want to talk.
The forty-five-minute drive home helps clear my head some more, but I’m craving a beer while I process everything. I know it’s one of my coping mechanisms, however, some days I need it to push the overwhelming thoughts roaming through my head.
Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately, there’s no beer or liquor in my fridge. I stopped buying it regularly when I went sober the first time, and then only went back to social drinking when I started up again.
