Chapter Two
Determined to get back to normal, I ring the back buzzer at Striking Back at ten the next morning.
“ID, honey.” Aggie’s voice says through the speaker as I hold my driver’s license up to the camera.
Of course she recognizes me, but this place houses abused women and children. They can’t be too careful.
“Five-by,” I reply cheerfully. Jensen, the guy who manages security for Striking Back is an ex-military man.
Apparently, five-by-five was military code for “all clear”, but we use our version to mean “everything’s fine”.
In this case, I’m not being threatened by some crazy jilted husband into letting him through security.
I’m buzzed inside where I nearly get bowled over by Ms. Den.
“Thank god! We’ve got a large donation in Bloomington and need someone to make the trip out there.” Ms. Den is the head counselor at S.B. but everyone calls her the house mother. Plump and friendly, she’s the backbone of this place and everyone loves her.
“Bloomington? That’s an hour away.” An hour sitting in traffic on the highway, ugh.
“I know, dear, but they’re donating beds, mattresses, and clothing. We can’t pass it up. You can take the van. They’ll load it for you.”
“Alright, give me ten minutes to say hi to the kids and grab a drink.”
“Sure thing. I’ll have someone bring the van around.”
“Ev-ly!” I’m tackled by forty pounds of overexcited four year old girl.
“Hey, munchkin! What are you doing today?”
“Mommy got a job so I’m playing with Ms. Bini. I’m posed to be good.”
“That’s great! Are you coloring a picture?”
“Yep, a flower, wanna see?” Her sticky hand grabs mine, pulling me to the children’s table where Sarah smiles at me, surrounded by three preschool age kids.
“Good morning,” she says with a laugh.
“Good morning. Lana found a job?”
“Yes, ma’am, a good one too. Glenn, Bloom, and Chester law firm hired her as an assistant. If it works out, they’ll pay for her to take classes to become a paralegal.”
“That’s fantastic.” It looks like Lana and her daughter, Jamie, will be a success story.
Sometimes, they’re hard to come by. So many domestic violence survivors return to their abusers.
Lana and Jamie came to us nearly a month ago, both covered in bruises, with nothing but the clothes on their backs.
S.B. housed them, provided lawyers to expedite her divorce, and helped with restraining orders. Thankfully, Jamie isn’t the husband’s child, so he has no visitation rights. Now Lana is on her way to a successful career. My heart feels lighter. I needed some good news today.
“Is Molly here?” Taking another volunteer along for the ride would at least alleviate the boredom of sitting in traffic.
“No, only the tutors and staff are here today.”
“Okay, well, I have to run. Mattresses to haul, you know.”
“You’re a dear,” Sarah says with a laugh.
As I make my way through the kitchen, Ms. Den calls to me. “Everly, hang on, I found someone to go with you.”
“Great, they can drive.”
Ms. Den laughs. “He’s waiting in the van.”
“Clear the door!” I call to Aggie, slipping my purse over my shoulder as I approach the back exit.
She checks the cameras to be sure no one is lurking to force their way inside and replies, “Door’s clear! Drive safe, honey.”
My phone chirps with a text from a member of my book group, reminding me of tonight’s meeting. I’m texting a reply as I hop into the passenger seat of the van.
“Buckle up, Ms. Hall.” His smooth voice fills my ears, and my stomach plummets to my toes. It’s the tatted Adonis. I’m halfway out the van door when strong fingers wrap around my wrist. “Hey, Evie, relax. I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m driving us to Bloomington.”
“Let go of me! What are you, some kind of stalker?”
“Evie, if you give me a second to explain…”
“Then explain. How the fuck do you know my last name, or that I volunteer for Striking Back? How did you find me?”
“Everly, I’m the founder of Striking Back. It’s my organization.”
“Bullshit! S.B. was founded by Mason…” My eyes fly up to meet his, and he releases my arm. “Shit. You’re Mason Reed.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Hall, although I have to say, you curse an awful lot. To answer your second question, I run a background check on all volunteers that work with S.B. and that typically includes your last name.” A small grin settles on his face as he waits for me to connect the dots.
“You recognized me at the diner?”
He nods.
Oh no. “And at the bank.” My head falls into my hands.
“Yes,” he admits.
“The day that just won’t die. I wasn’t supposed to see you again after…all that.”
“To be fair, you saw much more of me.” His eyes twinkle and his wicked grin makes me laugh, though I try not to. “Close the door, Evie. We have furniture to pick up.”
“The founder and CEO runs errands?”
“When it buys me time with a beautiful young girl.”
“Laying it on a bit thick, aren’t you?” I snort, giving in and shutting the door.
“Nothing but the truth, love.”
“You’re the first non-English person I’ve ever heard use love as an endearment.”
“I spent a few years in London and some of the local dialect seeps in.” My eyes are drawn to the flex of his arms while he steers the van onto the highway. Would it kill him to wear a shirt that isn’t a size too small? His biceps are trying to bust through the cotton. “Put your seatbelt on.”
“Excuse me?”
“Put your belt on, Evie. We’re getting on the highway.” I usually do wear a seatbelt, but his demand sort of pisses me off. “What?” he asks, as I stare at him.
“I’m trying to find a less juvenile way to say ‘don’t tell me what to do.’”
He rolls his eyes. “Ms. Hall, will you please buckle up and set my mind at ease?”
Fastening the belt, I mumble, “It’s not like I’d stick you with the ticket.”
“I’m more concerned with keeping you on the right side of the windshield.”
I don’t have a response for that. After a few minutes, I blurt, “You don’t look like the CEO of an organization.”
I’m rewarded with his sexy laugh. “Oh? What does a CEO look like?”
“I don’t know. Old, fitted suits, less tats.”
“I own a few suits. Tell me about yourself, Evie. We have an hour drive ahead of us.”
“Well, for starters, my name is Everly. My friends call me Ev.”
With a little side glance, he asks, “Are you single, Evie?” I don’t know whether to choke him or jump in his lap.
I take a sudden interest in the scenery flowing past my window. “Yes, with every intention of staying that way.”
“That’s good.”
“It is?”
“Yes, that attitude will keep other men away while I wear you down.”
“I’m not very susceptible to badgering.”
“I can be very persuasive. I’ll make a pest of myself.”
Laughing, I turn the radio to a classic rock station. “Some willing woman will fall at your feet and I’ll be off the hook.”
He turns and flashes a crooked smile. “I don’t give up, love. In fact, I’ll bet you I can get at least a lunch date with you by Friday.”
“No, thank you. I’m not interested in dating right now.”
“If I win, you have to go to the S.B. Carnival with me.”
“I’m not going on a date with you.” He won’t win this bet. I’ve had my fill of bad boys and he’s got heartbreaker written all over him.
“We’re just going to lunch.”
“No, we’re not.”
“Then it should be a safe bet,” he teases.
“Fine, and when I win, you leave me alone.”
“Deal.” He grins at me when I crank up an Ozzy song on the radio. “You’re going to be mine, Evie.”
“Shut up and drive.” The man is delusional.
The rest of our trip is pleasant enough, our discussions centering around music and T.V. shows. We have the same taste in entertainment. Mason sends a quick text when we get stuck at a red light.
“It’s illegal to text and drive.”
He regards me with a raised brow. “You going to turn me in?”
“Nah, then I’d have to drive home.”
His phone beeps and he glances at the screen before tucking it in his pocket. “Looks like we have an hour to kill.”
“What? Why?” I demand.
“Samuel won’t be back at his store until one.”
“Didn’t he know we were coming?”
“He got called away. Relax, Evie. We’ll find something to do,” he says, smirking at me.
Fantastic. A few moments later, he pulls into a parking lot beside a small park. “I thought we could stretch our legs,” he suggests, pointing to the narrow path winding away from the playground.
“Have you been here before?”
“A few years ago. The path leads back to a small stream. I’m going to grab a Coke.” He gestures to the sub shop next door. “Want one?”
“Sure, thanks.”
“I’ll catch up with you.” Christ, he looks good jogging away.
The air is filled with the laughter of children, the creak and clink of swings, backed by the dull roar of lunchtime traffic on the highway.
A delicious mixture of scents from nearby restaurants makes my stomach growl.
I shouldn’t have skipped breakfast, but I didn’t think I’d be running to BFE today.
The dirt path meanders along the perimeter of the park before leading me behind the tree line to a group of scarred picnic tables, shaded by a large oak tree.
The sound of running water keeps me moving until I reach the stream.
Clear water tumbles over a pile of smooth rocks and flows rapidly past the park, disappearing under a concrete slab of road in the distance.
It’s hot and humid today, and I’m really tempted to kick off my shoes and wade in.
Yeah, right, and end up with an impetigo rash on my feet.
Who knows what kind of runoff it’s polluted with.
“Evie.” His silky voice calls me. Why does he keep calling me that? Why the hell do I like it? The sun beams through the trees, spotlighting him like the damn Adonis he is as he wiggles a paper cup at me. “Hope you like Pepsi. All they had.”
“Apparently not,” I reply, glancing at the clear bag that houses two sub sandwiches and two bags of chips.
“Ah, well.” For the first time, he seems a little unsure of himself. “I’m starving, and I didn’t want to eat in front of you, so I got an extra sandwich. You don’t have to eat it.”