Food for the Soul (11 page)

“Less-Racist-Paula-Deen!” Genevieve called out to Harper, the other volunteers laughing at their new nickname for her. “You going to help me with these potatoes or what? I know you have that magical spice mix that makes them delicious. I don’t know where you keep it.”

“I’m coming.” Harper fetched the spice mix in question and, as she brought it over, muttered, “Couldn’t you at least have nicknamed me after one of the hot Food Network cooks?”

“Okay, we’ll call you Anthony Bourdain from now on.”

“Better, but I question your taste.”

Flynn dropped by as she was opening her doors to the public. A long line of anxious and happy faces had formed, waiting for noon to arrive and the kitchen to be open once more. Flynn was leaning against the white van, the letters of his last name written in an elegant script behind him. He wore gray, tailored slacks and a collared sea-green shirt with the sleeves rolled up and top few buttons opened. He was beautiful, and seeing him standing there with his naturally casual grace made the hairs on her skin stand on edge and her stomach turn upside down.

It took all the willpower she had to ignore him, greeting the visitors instead. She saw some of the regulars, the hopeless cases who would always be homeless. They would be the drug addicts, the ones found dead in alleyways or abandoned buildings. She’d heard some kitchens or shelters in neighboring cities didn’t like to cater to those folks, thinking they were wasting resources. But they were still humans, and Harper would feed them as long as they followed the rules of her house.

There were some unfortunates she turned away, recognizing their dangerous natures from her time on the streets. It was mostly the ones who’d lost it all on their last hit and would now do anything to get another. They didn’t come here for food or shelter; they came for money or to ask the others if they had any product on them.

She’d learned her lesson in the Full Spoon’s opening week. She’d let in a man who was agitated and unpredictable, but she’d thought a good meal would calm him down. It had been her optimism speaking, not her common sense. He’d caused a scene, and she called the police after he refused to go. Some of the younger kids forced themselves on him and threw him out. It ended in a fight between the man and the police and ended with blood on the pavement.

She avoided that altogether now by sending them away with To-Go containers of food. She wouldn’t let those types in to cause trouble, but she wouldn’t let them starve either.

Once the line thinned and there was a substantial crowd sitting in the main hall, eating the meals her volunteers had served, she turned a scathing eye on Flynn. To be fair, it was hard to present an angry front after everything Doug had told her. Also…he looked too damn hot for his own good. But Harper was determined to be stronger than her libido.

“I know you’re pissed—”

“Did your handyman tell you that, boss?”

He pushed himself off the van and walked toward her slowly. “No, I knew you’d be pissed when I sent him over here.”

That gave her pause. “Then why did you do it?”

“Because I don’t give a shit if it hurts your pride, Harper. You need security here, for more reasons than the fact that you live alone in this forsaken abode.” He eyed the building dubiously, but his turned-down brows only added to his appeal. She hated that her righteous anger from this morning had all but petered out.

“You’ve wasted yours and Doug’s time by doing this, and you know it. It’s all pointless anyway.”

“We can figure something out to keep the kitchen open, but in the meantime, I know you won’t stay at Theo’s apartment all the time.”

Harper wondered why Flynn didn’t offer his home but decided not to press. He looked on edge as it was, as though he’d come here expecting a fight. If he’d known the shit he was stepping in from the beginning, he most likely had been ready for an argument.

“I don’t like handouts, Flynn.”

“I know.” He was close enough to touch now, and she let the soothing scents of mac ’n’ cheese and chicken noodle soup wafting from the door soothe what was left of her frayed nerves. She placed her hands on his chest, smoothing her fingers up toward his shoulders.

She focused on his clean white buttons as she said, “It reminds me of sitting on a street corner with a dirty cup in my hand, waiting for some passerby to throw me a few bucks so I can get a meal off the dollar menu at Taco Bell.”

He wrapped his arms around her back and tucked her against him. He smelled like office and leather car seats, not altogether pleasant but real and present. “That doesn’t sound terrible. Taco Bell is delicious.”

She pulled back to punch him in the arm, but he grabbed her hand and pulled her in close for a full hug, his arms coming around her waist and hers wrapping around his neck.

“I don’t care if I waste a hundred hours of Doug’s time or a million dollars. If it makes you safer than you were, if it helps you in any way, then I’ll do it. It’s okay to accept help from time to time, Harper.”

Callie’s words again, coming back to haunt her. Perhaps the girl was trying to tell her something. She sighed into his chest and let him hold her for a few delightful moments, let his strength encompass her and add to her already formidable spirit. She liked this feeling, of being more than a single being.

“Come on, boss,” she said, frowning at Flynn. “I’ve got some brownies with your name on them.”

“You feed these people weed brownies? No wonder you’re popular.”

It was her moral obligation to punch him again.

Chapter Seven

It was after eight in the evening when Theo finally pulled up in front of the soup kitchen. Usually, after a long day, he’d go for a run or do a full-circuit workout at the gym to relinquish any frustrations he’d endured during the day. Working in the ER near one of the poorest communities in the city was disheartening, to say the least. He wanted to help these kids, maybe give them a gentle yet firm smack upside the head and tell them to get their shit together. But he patched them up and sent them on their way, knowing they’d be back. They always came back, but more times than not, it was in a body bag. There must be something more he could do for them. It never felt like enough.

Today had been worse than customary, and he knew he’d remember for the rest of his life the look on that girl’s face as she had been rolled into the ER. He had been so focused and determined, shutting out all outside distractions, that by the end of it when he’d failed to save her, he’d lost his shit and railed at the next person who came to him for something—a new nurse. Now there would be an inquiry with HR and the rest of the nurses hated him more than they already did. The other doctors wanted nothing to do with him.

When first starting the job, he’d told himself he’d be open and welcome to making friends. But after the first few months of unsuccessful social interactions and happy hours that made him feel out of place…it was easier to start ignoring any invitations to drinks after work or holiday parties. He didn’t know how to balance work with life, didn’t know how to be a normal, communicative human being. He was shit at it, so he gave up trying. He had work, and then he had nothing, until Harper and Flynn.

Now look where he was, close to where two people he craved more than life would be, and they would give him succor. Was it wrong to want them both this much? He didn’t think so. Love and desire were natural and inescapable facets of life. What he feared, what made his heart drop into his stomach when he thought about it, was the possibility of them truly understanding how uncomfortable he felt around other people. He’d opened himself up again after a long time of solitude, and this overwhelming fear was the price.

He’d never been good at making friends, too naturally solitary. No matter how many social groups his parents put him in, wherever they happened to be living that month, he was always the quiet, studious one. They couldn’t understand his introverted nature, as they were social butterflies, going from one event to another to present their research and spend time with like-minded folk. The only social interaction Theo had ever been comfortable with as an adult was carnal pleasures, but there was more than lust stirring between the trio.

It was too late to distance himself from Harper and Flynn, he knew that much. He needed an outlet, to release the fear and anguish from the day. Tonight the gym wouldn’t suffice. He only hoped the ones he would look to would take him in with open arms.

Theo closed his car up, then entered the building. The door was still unlocked, as the place would be open for another half hour. There were some kids sitting off to the side by the small bookcases. A teenager, a girl with bright-orange hair, read a worn-out copy of
Green Eggs and Ham
to them. She had them in peals of laughter as she made faces in reaction to the Cat’s antics.

On his left, an old man sat at a table and was snoring softly, a sour smell rising from his clothes. Past him, a lone young boy shook a can of paint and drew on the wall, a small black-and-gray picture of a young girl losing a red balloon. Theo had seen that image before, a popular one by Banksy. The guy seemed to be practicing. Theo looked around the room and found other small copies of Banksy’s work, some rough, others more polished. The copycat artist was good, but Theo would’ve liked to see something he did on his own. Thinking of what Harper might do in this situation, Theo decided to break character and speak to the young man.

“That’s pretty good,” Theo said, having walked up to the artist’s right side.

The artist shrugged. “It’s all right. I’m gettin’ better.” The kid had a slight Hispanic twinge to his accent.

“Well, you’re doing it the right way. Is there anything in here that’s yours?”

“Whaddaya mean?”

“Something original that you drew?”

“I didn’t steal this,” the artist said, backing away from the image defensively.

“I know. It’s okay to copy another artist’s work in order to learn. But, I mean, this is impressive, and I wondered if you had anything you came up with and drew personally.”

The artist pursed his lips in thought, staring Theo down as he considered him. “Nah, there’s nothin’. This is what I do.”

Theo nodded, unsure of what else to say. “Well, if you ever do create your own work, I’d like to see it. I think you’ve got something going for you.”

“Whatever,” the artist said, turning back to the wall.

Theo knew when to take a hint and headed back toward the kitchen. The young man reminded Theo of himself when he was a teen, always alone, working on whatever he was studying at the time, never truly accepting praise. He hoped that conversation hadn’t been a total waste.

“Uh, sir, you can’t be back here without approval from Harper,” a young man said when Theo walked into the kitchen. The guy stood at the sink, washing out one of the serving trays.

“I have approval, I think.” He laughed at himself, a sad laugh that sounded like it carried the weight of his day. “I hope, anyway. Where is she?”

“Here,” Harper’s voice called from behind him. He turned to look at her, and she frowned the instant she saw his face. “What’s wrong?”

Theo couldn’t speak. He’d meant to say he was fine and then wanted to invite her and Flynn over to stay, but after such a miserable and exhausting day, seeing concern for him shining from her beautiful eyes brought such a wave of unfamiliar emotion, he became choked up with it. There were no words for the amount of gratitude he felt being the recipient of that concern.

Harper didn’t speak but walked toward him and wrapped him in her small embrace. She was unimaginably strong. She’d suffered, and then she’d rallied, and now she was doing all she could to stay on her feet in order to give to others. She was a modern-day superhero, and he wanted to be her when he grew up.

“I’m sorry you had a bad day. Want some mac ’n’ cheese?”

For some reason, that made Theo laugh. He nodded and let her guide him toward her back office. Flynn was there, arguing with the man Theo had seen on a ladder outside the building that morning.

“Sit at my desk. I’ll bring the food.” Harper kissed him on the cheek, needing to go up on her tiptoes to do it, then left to fetch the food.

“Listen, boss, you’re good with being the boss and stuff, but I’m telling you, this angle is not going to do you any good.” The man was once again on a ladder, but he was now affixing a camera to the corner of the room. “You want a spot more wide-sweeping.”

“I want a spot that will point at that door and stay there.” Flynn was at the bottom of the ladder, one foot on the bottom rung and his hands supporting it as the technician did his work. “Why can’t you be a complacent drone and do what I say?”

“I wouldn’t be as good at my job then.” The stranger spotted Theo. “Can we help you?”

Flynn looked over, a smile breaking out over his face. “C’mere. I can’t let go of this ladder or my idiot employee will fall down.”

“Employee?” Theo asked, walking over.

“Yeah, I own stuff and people work for me. It’s a nice setup.” Without warning, Flynn leaned in and kissed Theo full on the mouth. Both men had stubble, and the sensation of the short bristles rubbing against one another was sharp. It brought Theo further away from his hard day, closer to a happier reality. This must be something if a simple, closed-mouth kiss could make his day that much better.

“Ah, you’re bi. That makes sense.”

Flynn kissed the corner of Theo’s mouth before pulling away to glare up at his employee. “Doug, do I pay you to comment on my personal life?”

“Nah, but it’s fun to do anyway.” Doug winked down at them before turning back to his work.

“I need some flying monkeys to do my bidding. Would be much easier.”

“The stink from the shit would be unbearable, though,” Harper said with a grin as she put a steaming bowl of mac ’n’ cheese and a glass of water on her desk. “Eat up, Theo. I’m gonna finish closing up, then—”

“Then I was wondering if both of you would like to come over.”

“Netflix and chill?”

“Shut up, Doug,” Flynn grumbled up at Doug. “I think that should be fine. Let me see if my dad can watch Ben.”