The flirty banter had also thrown me for a minute. She’d sounded serious when she’d said that anything I wanted her to handle was out of her league. I’d been equally serious when I’d reminded her that she was the one out of my league.
A pair of gloves and headgear smacked me across the chest. Reggie.
“Need you in the ring. I can’t watch all of them at once.”
“We need to get another guy on board, to cover when Lord or I can’t be here.” Lord was the third in our motley crew of role models. Not that I was a good role model for any kid, but I did my best. And since I wasn’t a gangbanger, it made me more of an example to follow than most of these kids had.
“Agreed, but it’s got to be someone who can handle these kids. They don’t respect just anyone. Though they seem to like that girl of yours just fine.”
“She ain’t my girl. She’s just here doing some work in exchange for a favor.” And don’t forget it, Leahy, I chastised myself. Vanessa wouldn’t have set foot in this neighborhood if not for the prize on the line.
“Whatever you say, boss. I saw the way you were lookin’ at her.”
“Drop it, Reg.”
“Touchy.”
“Seriously, fuck off.” I stopped at the bench and grabbed a roll of tape. “Make yourself useful and tape me up.”
“Yes, sir. Yes, sir.”
Helping the guys in the ring was the cure for any lingering thoughts about Vanessa. Trey and Jojo were both so fucking quick that if I wasn’t on my game, I’d get beat down. And I had my rep to protect.
Ninety minutes and buckets of sweat later, the boys tromped toward the showers, and I ducked into the kitchen. The heavenly scent of lasagna and garlic bread wafted through the air, and the gorgeous girl standing in the center of it all, oven mitts on both hands, a smear of what looked like strawberry jam across one cheek, had me freezing at the doorway.
When she looked up and smiled, I felt something weird in my chest. What exactly, I wasn’t sure. But that shit wasn’t normal.
“I can take those out to the table.” I jerked my chin toward the steaming pans of lasagna on the center prep surface. “If I can borrow the oven mitts.”
She looked down at her hands. “Oh, yeah. Sure.” She pulled them off, and I stepped closer to take them from her.
I glanced at the dozens of brown paper lunch sacks on the counter and raised an eyebrow. Her cheeks flamed crimson. “I made a few extras. Okay, a lot of extras. But I’ll pay for the supplies. I thought if maybe they had brothers and sisters…and once I started making them, I just couldn’t stop. So, yeah. That.”
Her self-conscious rambling had my heart doing that funny thing again.
“It’s okay. And you don’t need to pay for any supplies. I’ve got it covered. I’m sure they’ll appreciate the extras. There are always more mouths to feed.”
Her frown didn’t detract from her traffic-stopping beauty, but it made me want to…comfort her. What the hell? I didn’t have time to question my weird ass reaction when Vanessa started wringing her oven mitt-less hands.
“I just want you to know that regardless of whether you decide to donate the property or not, I’m going to do whatever I can to help fund more programs to feed these kids. I mean, we already do a lot, but clearly we’re not making a big enough impact. And that’s not right. The foundation can do more. Change more. No kid should be going to bed hungry in this city. We have the resources, we just need to deploy them better.” She looked up at me for a split second, before spinning around toward the fridge. And in that tiny glimpse I got of her face, I could swear her eyes were glossy with unshed tears.
“Then join us for supper. Meet some of the kids you want to help change things for. They’ll be on…better…behavior.”
She froze, half-in and half-out of the fridge.
Her voice was small when she said, “I can’t.”
After her impassioned speech, it wasn’t the answer I expected.
“Busy?”
“Ummm…I just…well…” She took a breath and looked at me straight on. “I just can’t.”
My hands clenched into fists. “You want to help feed these kids, but you’re too good to sit down and actually eat with them?”
“No! That’s not it.”
“Then what?”
She squeezed her eyes shut. “I just can’t. Okay?” She turned. “I should go.”
I wasn’t satisfied. For a split second, I’d seen a glimpse of a different woman beneath the layers of polish and ice—one who had a heart that might rival the size of her bank account. She was the woman I wanted sitting down at a table with these boys and me. But apparently what I’d seen was a figment of my imagination—and that pissed me off.
“You ain’t got a hot date with your boy toy, Simon Duchesne. Because I heard that’s over. And that it never really was what it seemed.” I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it since Duchesne had spilled the beans to my receptionist, Charlie, that his relationship with Vanessa had been a cover. Because, according to Duchesne, she might be digging someone her dad didn’t find acceptable. That mystery was one that had kept me up more nights than I’d admit.
Her look of surprise was priceless. That sinful mouth dropped open just far enough to give a guy ideas. I wondered if I pushed hard enough, would she spill who this unsuitable mystery guy was? You want it to be you, my subconscious taunted. I flipped it the mental bird. There was no way in hell it was me.