office.
“Daphne, your first volunteer just showed up.”
“Great, thanks.” I stand up and give Ty a confident nod. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be just fine.”
With a stern look, he says, “Keep our police contacts notified of your location. If things don’t feel right, ask them to send someone to you. And stay out of the drug houses.”
“I always do. I promise, we’ll be safe. Enjoy your dinner with Aliyah, okay?”
“Okay. Text me when you guys get back here at the end of the night just to let me know how things went.”
“Will do, boss.”
I walk out to the lobby to find a middle-aged woman sitting in a folding chair.
“Hi, I’m Daphne Barrington,” I tell her, holding out my hand.
“I know you,” she says, her face lighting up as she shakes my hand. “Olidaph, right?”
“That’s me,” I say, smiling. “Or, half of it is me.”
“I’m Linda.”
“It’s great to meet you. Thank you so much for volunteering. We really need the help.”
“So you and…Oli? Is his name Oli? You went on a date?”
Fucking Twitter. There are photos of Olivier and I kissing on my front porch all over the place, which is not awesome since they show everyone where I live. There’s also one of us laughing as we eat our ice cream sundaes at the ice cream shop.
“It’s Olivier, and it wasn’t really a date.”
“Mmmhmm, sure. But you guys kissed at the end.”
I force myself not to roll my eyes and ask Linda if the whole world gets to see photos of her life every day.
The front door is pushed open and two more people walk in.
“Here to volunteer?” I ask, glad my conversation about Olivier is over.
I had fun with him Saturday night, and the kiss was really good. Great, even. But I’m not letting my heart call the shots anymore. My head says I need to take a break from men, and even when I’m ready to date again, I don’t want to have $300 dinner dates with a billionaire. I’d be a hypocrite, advocating for the poor during the day and living a lavish life by night.
“We’re going to start by packing some backpacks with supplies,” I tell the three volunteers who have arrived so far.
I lead them into our back room, where I have nine backpacks set out and supplies piled on folding tables. After instructing them on how much and what to pack each bag with, I go back out to the lobby to see if any of my other volunteers have arrived.
Two college kids introduce themselves and I’m about to lead them to the back when the door opens again. I do a double take when I see Olivier walk in, dressed in jeans, a plain black shirt under a thick jacket and a Chicago Blaze baseball cap.
“I didn’t think you owned shirts without collars,” I say.
“Hi, Daphne,” he says wryly. “I own lots of shirts without collars.”
“Sorry…hi.”
“Hey, aren’t you the guy from that video online?” one of the college kids asks. “The one who pulled the lady from the burning car?”
“I am.”
“That was fucking badass! You just climbed right in there. Was the lady okay?”
Olivier nods. “Yeah, she’s okay.”
“You guys should meet sometime and film it.”
Smiling, Olivier says, “We should; that’s a good idea.”
I clear my throat and say, “Hey, I need to get these volunteers going on packing bags. Can you wait like five minutes and then I can talk?”
“Actually, I’m here to volunteer.”
My mouth drops open. “What? You?”
One of the college kids says, “Man, this guy is pretty amazing,” in an awed tone.
“He has ulterior motives,” I say sharply.
“Me? Never.” Olivier gives me a mock innocent look.
“Hey Nina?” I call loudly enough for her to hear me in her office. “Can you get my volunteers going in the back room?”
“Yep.”
She comes out of her office, her face lighting up when she sees Olivier. “Hey, the poet’s here.”
“You told her about my poem?” Olivier asks, a boyish look of excitement on his face.
Nina laughs. “Told me about it? She’s got it pinned to her office bulletin board. She looks at it several times a day.”
I glare at her. “If you could take the volunteers back now, that would be great.”
“Okay.” She shrugs and leads the college kids to the back, leaving me and Olivier alone.
“Why so hostile?” he asks. “We’ve been texting this week and we’re having lunch Sunday. I didn’t think you’d mind seeing me here.”
“I just…it’s not that I mind, so much as…why didn’t you tell me? And why did you