Page 27 of Falling for Mindy

I felt myself relax a little. I had no idea I’d been tense, worried about what she thought. I didn’t want to impose on her, and I knew she was right. The fact I was concerned about her comfort was evidence that I was treating her as an equal. I ate the fry.

“Did you put pepper on that?” I asked.

“Uh, yeah. I put pepper on practically everything. Why?” she said with a shrug. “I have sriracha in my bag, too.”

“You carry hot sauce?” I asked in disbelief.

“Yeah. Doesn’t everyone?” she laughed.

That killer smile on her face, the way she was grinning right at me just about knocked me over. She was gorgeous and joyful and seemed glad as hell just to have me sitting across from her.

“Tell me how you chose social work. I gave you my whole life story about my mom and sisters. It’s your turn,” I said.

“It’s not as noble as yours, I guess. My family has money, lots of it. We never had to worry about that, and one of the things my dad has always been clear about is, you give back. For as long as I can remember, we went every Christmas and got names off the tree at church to buy stuff for kids who didn’t have presents. We donated our stuff, toys and clothes and shoes that we outgrew, and we volunteered at the soup kitchen. In the summers, my mom took my sister and me to get craft stuff and we’d go make arts and crafts with the kids in the hospital—we’d mask up at like eight, nine years old, and help out with activities. They didn’t want to raise spoiled brats, you know? So we were always aware that we were lucky and that it made my parents proud when we wanted to help other people. The first time I ever saw my dad cry was when I was twelve and he said we could go get new skis for my class trip and I said I wanted him to give the stuff to a girl in my class who wouldn’t get to go, that I wanted him to pay her way instead.”

“That’s pretty amazing for anyone, let alone a twelve-year-old,” I said, looking at her differently, “to give up something you want so someone else can have the experience. Did he do it?”

“Yeah, and he offered to send me as well, but I said I’d rather just see her get to go. I had lots of chances to do fun stuff, and the main thing was I didn’t want anybody to know who was paying for her to go either. So they kept it anonymous, and I remember how happy she was the day of the trip, just the smile on her face was worth anything.”

“Was she a friend of yours?”

“No. Not really. She was a foster kid, actually. She just went to our private school because her foster parents sent their other kids there, but she didn’t have the money for extra stuff. It sucked that they treated her differently, but that isn’t what really got me thinking about it. The next year, when I was thirteen, one of my best friends, her mom got remarried. And her stepdad was pretty awful. That was when I decided I needed to do something about helping kids like her. My parents let her live with us for a while, and her mom and stepdad eventually broke up, but the thing was, she was totally powerless. She was just a kid and didn’t have any voice in the matter, in whether she was safe or not.”

I nodded, imagining Mindy completely enraged that this was happening to her friend, and determined to prevent it from happening to anyone else. How many rich kids would have even cared? How many people in general, no matter how much money they had, would be that affected by something that happened to a friend in middle school? She was extraordinary, and everything I learned about her impressed me more.

“There’s more to you than meets the eye,” I said, making the understatement of the year.

“Hey, rich girls have a heart, too,” she joked. “And I think the fact I had it so easy made me more determined to give back, to do something worthwhile. Women’s studies is really my vanity project, the subject I study just for the luxury of studying whatever I want to learn. The fact that it helps me understand a lot of the bias that keeps people in poverty or steers them toward prison or gets them in a situation where social services is involved is really a bonus. I didn’t choose the two majors thinking they’d fit together so well. Like I said, I’m lucky,” she said.

I swallowed hard as she took a drink of her soda, those lips closing around the tip of her straw. It was too much, all of it. I enjoyed her company. I liked her as a person, and her opinions impressed me. She was beautiful and fun and clever, and there was enough electricity between us to power an entire city. She reached across the table with her napkin.

“May I?” she asked. I nodded.

Mindy wiped a smudge of ketchup off my chin, her expression serious as the napkin brushed my face. My heart raced at her touch, even this practical, impersonal touch with a paper napkin. When she looked away, I finished my fries, and noticed she was already done eating. She was just staying with me. It didn’t occur to me to tell her she didn’t have to wait. I liked having her there. She talked about some thriller she’d watched on Netflix with her sister, and totally spoiled the plot twist, which would have mattered if I ever intended to watch it myself.

“Sorry. I got over excited. Pretend I didn’t say anything,” she said.

“I wasn’t going to watch it anyway. If I’m not at work, I’m usually at the gym,” I said, “so you didn’t ruin anything. Don't worry about it.”

“Thanks,” she said, “are you about ready to go?”

“Yeah, I’ll take the trays.” I took our stuff to the trash and met her back at the table. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

“I’d like that,” she said, “Kyle.”

It was the first time she’d said my name, and I felt it like a hit to the chest. I held the door, and she brushed against me as she passed through it. She looked up and smiled softly up at me. She led the way, and her car was parked right beside mine. I took her keys to open the door for her, to be a gentleman. But when I bent to unlock it, our eyes met. I felt the thud of my heartbeat, the rush of my blood. I held myself back. I had to.

But she didn’t have to. She rose up on her tiptoes and put her hand on my cheek, and she brushed her lips against mine. “You can kiss me,” she said against my mouth, “you can do more than kiss me.”

It was a tidal wave that swept me away, this rush of overpowering attraction, the way I was drawn to her, as undeniable as gravity. I covered her mouth with mine, took control of the kiss.

Framing her face with my hands, I worked her lips open and slid my tongue inside hungrily. It was frantic, heated, urgent, and kissing her was an inferno, like coming home but at the same time like we were being consumed by something bigger than ourselves. Her arms went around my neck, and I wondered for a second how that was possible when she was so much smaller than me. Then I realized I’d lifted her off her feet with the force of the kiss, with my arm around her waist. She was pressed against me at full length, warm and eager. I groaned as I deepened the kiss, tasting her, feeling the thrill rip down my spine as she dragged her fingers through my hair. This was nothing but trouble, and trouble was the only thing I wanted.

CHAPTER 15

MINDY

Oh my fucking God. This man. This kiss. My mind burned up and all that I had left were my senses, the way he held me, the way he tasted, the way his tongue worked in my mouth like the sexiest thing I’ve ever felt.

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