Charity Case: The Complete Series Read online

“Nope. Ask for yourself. Gotta go. Oh, and I’m sending him your phone number right now.”

  Click.

  The line dies. Mother fucking hell. Am I trapped in some Mean Girls reunion movie?

  I haven’t even tucked my phone back into my purse before it dings with a text. I’d ignore it if I wasn’t worried that it could be my mom needing me.

  Unknown: Hey, it’s Reed. The stunning guy you just reacquainted yourself with twenty minutes ago. How about a nightcap tonight to brainstorm ideas for the carnival?

  I add his contact information into my phone, so I don’t mistakenly answer again.

  Me: Don’t you have a son to watch at night?

  Reed: Nope.

  Me: I don’t think your girlfriend would appreciate your invite. We can talk details over a morning coffee and that’s it.

  Reed: ???

  Reed: Not even dinner?

  I don’t respond.

  Reed: Lunch? Even business associates have lunch together.

  I shake my head and try to tamp down my temper.

  Reed: Fine. But mornings are hard for me.

  I’m being difficult for the sake of being difficult now. I can’t very well ask Hannah to come in late to plan some stupid carnival booth anyway.

  Me: Saturday?

  Reed: My place.

  The three dots appear but I respond before he can.

  Me: McDonald’s on Peterson. The kids can play, and we’ll talk. Noon.

  Reed: You run a hard bargain and I make a lot of deals.

  What the hell does that mean?

  Reed: I take it that’s the end of our conversation?

  I don’t reply because there’s nothing else to say.

  Reed: Message received. Have a great day, Victoria.

  I tuck my phone back into my purse with a giddy feeling inside. Damn it. I wish my stomach would get the message my brain is trying to send it.

  Chapter Five

  “So, you and the steak are meeting at Micky D’s?” Chelsea asks. “Kinky. You going to make out in the tunnel slide?” Chelsea takes a bite of her turkey sandwich.

  We’re at a deli on the main floor of the building we work in. The Sandwich Place is our go-to for lunch if we’re all in the office. It’s owned by an Italian family who, get this, have one son who’s a police officer, one who’s a paramedic and one who’s a firefighter. I haven’t met them, but Chelsea knows them—the girl knows everyone, I swear—and if the rumors are true, I may have to fake faint in front of them for some mouth to mouth action.

  “Steak?” Hannah asks, the spoon from her soup hovering right in front of her matte red lipsticked lips.

  “Yeah. Vic is the Doberman drooling over the steak,” Chelsea says as if that explains things.

  “I’m missing something.” Hannah takes a graceful sip of her soup.

  I’d love to set a meatball grinder with extra sauce and provolone in front of Hannah and see how delicately she can eat it.

  “Let’s take a poll,” Chelsea says, setting her sandwich down. “Hannah, would you date the best man from your wedding?”

  Hannah chokes, soup dribbling down her chin. I guess I don’t need to do the meatball grinder experiment. I grab a napkin from the black holder in the middle of the table and pass it to her. She dabs at her chin, leaning over the table so she doesn’t stain her dress. I’d be worried too. It probably costs more than Jade’s tuition for the year at St. Pats.

  “No.”

  “See.” I shoot Chelsea an I-told-you-so look.

  “Why not?” she asks.

  “For one, the best man at my wedding was my brother.”

  “That’s completely different. The steak isn’t related to her or her ex.” Chelsea leans back like she just gave the best closing argument, and everyone is having an ah-ha moment.

  “Okay, who is the steak? Is this some riddle?” Hannah’s confused, and she looks at me to clear things up.

  “The steak is my ex’s friend who stood up as his best man at our wedding. The steak is the guy who I ran into at Jade’s school last week. The steak manipulated the system, so we’d have to work on a carnival booth together at the school fundraiser.” I sip my soda once I’m done.

  “The steak wants you to eat him.” Hannah grins.

  “Exactly,” Chelsea says.

  “No. The steak probably heard some bullshit from Pete about me in bed.”

  “So, I’m right. I totally pegged you for the kinky kind.” Both Hannah and my heads whip in Chelsea’s direction. She holds up her hands, laughing. “Well?”

  “No. I mean...just no,” I sputter.

  “We’ll let you plead the fifth on that one.” Hannah’s perfectly manicured hand graces my leg with a pat. “But don’t be ashamed. It’s bullshit how men can brag or downright lie about their performance, but we’re supposed to act like we’re laying there with our legs open and have the ability to come with a soft whisper. I’m a screamer and I’m not ashamed.” She smiles, and I can’t tell if she’s entirely serious or not.

  “I’m a cowgirl. I ride,” Chelsea adds.

  “That doesn’t surprise me.” I take a bite of my sandwich.

  God, this is good.

  “Come on Vic, we all shared. Tell us something.” Chelsea leans forward on the table and even Hannah’s eyes are set on me.

  I feel the flush heat my cheeks. Having Jade so young I forget it wasn’t just my education I left behind when I married Pete. I left friends who cared more about going out Thursday through Saturday than waking a sleeping baby for her feeding. It’s been a long time since I’ve had close girlfriends to confide in.

  “I don’t know.” I shrug. The meat on my sandwich is looking really intriguing right now.

  “Don’t make her say anything she doesn’t want to.” Hannah picks up her spoon and goes back to her soup.

  “I’m a biter.” I rush the words out super fast like it will somehow make them less embarrassing.

  “Hah!” Chelsea’s hand smacks the table and a few people look over. “I knew it,” she says in a quieter voice.

  I roll my eyes.

  “Nice. You have to be pretty damn good at what you’re doing to make me a biter.” Hannah brings the spoon to her mouth and takes a small sip. “Few have been successful in that department.”

  Chelsea seems to be deep in thought for a second and I guarantee she’s committed everyone’s sexual preference to memory.

  “Anyway, back to the steak.” Hannah’s gaze shoots my way.

  “The steak will remain untouched.” I sip my drink.

  Chelsea scoffs. “Please, I guarantee you’re gonna to have that meat in your mouth at some point.”

  I almost spit my drink all over the table I laugh so hard.

  “Does the steak have a name?” Hannah asks after we’ve settled ourselves.

  “Reed.”

  “Is he still close to your ex?” she asks in response.

  “He says no. I haven’t seen him since we moved out of Chicago to Los Angeles, so he’s probably telling the truth.”

  “Then go for it. If anything, it might get to your ex.” Hannah waggles her eyebrows and grins.

  I never knew she could be so spiteful, but from what I gather, her divorce was really nasty.

  She has a point though. Anything that would annoy Pete has its benefits.

  “I have too much on my plate right now to worry about getting back at my ex. This will have to be platonic.”

  “Let me take Jade for a weekend. Have a weekend full of hot sex, leave your love bites on him, and get it out of your system.” Chelsea finds her voice once again with advice I won’t be taking.

  “With how he’s inserted himself in my life already, I’m thinking he might want to put a ring on it if I sleep with him.”

  The girls laugh, and we go back to our lunch. I’m hoping the topic of Reed will be tossed into the garbage along with our trash.

  We’re almost finished eating when a gorgeous guy with olive skin, perfect dark scruff
on his chiseled jaw and the darkest brown eyes I’ve ever seen walks in. Chelsea’s smile turns up to full wattage.

  “Luca!” she says, standing and embracing the prime rib in front of us.

  Hannah knocks her knee to mine and we share a look.

  “This is my co-worker, Victoria and my boss, Hannah.” She swivels him toward the table. His chocolate gaze lands on us and I take in his paramedic uniform. “This is Luca.”

  “Hi.” He puts out his hand to shake both of ours. “Chelsea told me your office is just upstairs.”

  “If by upstairs you mean twenty floors, yes.” I smile, and he does, too.

  He’s handsome, but the grin on his face says he’s Chelsea’s match in the partying arena.

  He turns his attention back to Chelsea. “I meant to ask you, I saw on Instagram that your cousin is getting married.”

  “Are you still stalking her fiancé?” Chelsea jokes and his shrug and his smile says he’s got no shame.

  He turns to the table again. “Do you know that Chelsea’s cousin is a Winter Classics skier and she’s marrying a Classics snowboarder?”

  Chelsea shrugs, but her proud smile says she’s not embarrassed by it.

  “Really? Who? I was glued to the screen this Winter Classics,” Hannah says.

  “Skylar Walsh is my cousin,” Chelsea says.

  They share the same last name, so we should’ve guessed.

  “That’s awesome. Do you think she’d be willing to speak at the gala?” Hannah asks, ever the opportunist if she sees something she thinks will help raise money for the charity.

  “She knows all of them. Mia Salter, Demi Harrison.” Luca nudges his shoulder to hers like ‘why didn’t you share that you know all these famous athletes.’

  That’s not Chelsea’s style and even I know that.

  “You’re holding out on me girl,” Hannah says.

  Chelsea eyes Luca. “I’ll make some calls. See what I can do.”

  “Oh, it’s too late to get something together for winter and have them do a day on the slopes, but it’s something to think about for next year.”

  The older woman who called out our numbers walks around the back counter and over to our little group where she hits Luca over the head with a menu.

  Hannah and I stare on wide-eyed.

  “Ouch. Mama.” He holds out his hands.

  She shakes her head, her eyes piercing into him. “Don’t give the phone number out again.”

  Chelsea laughs, obviously understanding whatever it is that’s going on here. “Still?” she asks him, and he shoots her a smirk as if to say, can you blame me?

  “It was nice meeting you.” He swings his arm around his mama’s shoulders and the two of them walk away, speaking Italian.

  “Cute,” Hannah says. “Too young for me, but you two should think about it.”

  “You couldn’t be more than five or six years older than him,” I say.

  “Doesn’t matter how old he is, that’s a big N-O from me,” Chelsea says.

  “A paramedic with a body and face like his? I imagine there’s a lot of competition and he probably likes it that way,” I say.

  Chelsea points at me. “You have good intuition, Vic. His mom is mad at him because he gives all the women he meets at bars the deli phone number.”

  Hannah wipes her mouth. “Never mind then. He’s not the one for either of you.”

  We all stand and dispose of our trash. Chelsea runs over and gives Luca a quick hug goodbye. He raises his hand in a wave to us and we each smile with a wave back as we’re exiting the door. I turn and run smack dab into a man wearing a suit and my heart halts for a moment before I realize it’s not Reed. Why would it be?

  “Excuse me,” I say, sliding by the man.

  “No, excuse me.” His eyes flit over my body like I’m on the menu.

  “Is that the steak?” Chelsea jokingly asks as we walk by, ignoring the guy.

  “Yeah, baby. King cut T-bone. Want a bite?”

  Hannah and I stand there with our mouths ajar. Seriously, a little kid just walked by.

  “I’d have to douse it in A1 sauce before I could even stomach looking at it.” Chelsea lets the glass door shut behind her and we rush to the entrance of our building laughing uncontrollably.

  It really is good to have girlfriends again. Just another reason to stay single. I let a man distract me from growing new friendships before. Never again.

  Chapter Six

  Eleven-fifty-five Saturday at the McDonald’s on Peterson, Jade and I walk in, hand in hand. I glance around, not seeing Reed or Henry, so I order a happy meal for Jade and a meal for myself.

  We sit down with our food in a booth that Jade picks out. So far everything’s going great. Until the door opens behind me and Jade’s eyes widen, a huge smile overtaking her small face.

  “Henry!” she exclaims, her hand up in the air.

  Like the other day, I smell him before I see him. That musky and citrus mix that’s like a heat-seeking missile right between my legs.

  “I would have bought you lunch,” he says, arriving at the edge of the table.

  Henry and Jade talk about the play area and I take him in. Faded jeans, a black pullover jacket, and a pair of soccer sneakers. A memory of going to one of his soccer games at a park once flashes through my mind. It was like a rec league or something. I thought he was jaw-dropping in a suit but his casual look makes me want to nuzzle into him on a Sunday afternoon all day.

  “Don’t you know yet, Mr. Warner, I’m the independent type.” Jade glances over to me with a strange look on her face.

  A smile creases the edges of his eyes and an embarrassed flush, runs through my body. How stupid did I just sound?

  “I do know that Ms. Keebler.”

  “Clarke now.”

  He rocks back on his heels, a look on his face to suggest he had wondered.

  “So, you’re not the cookie maker anymore?” he chuckles, and I eye Jade because the poor girl still holds her father’s name. “Who doesn’t want to be associated with E.L. Fudge? He’s the best.”

  Jade smiles and then goes back to her conversation with Henry.

  “Usual, Henry?” he asks the little boy.

  He nods at Reed and I really need to finalize who he is to him.

  “Great, I’ll be right back.” He taps the table with his knuckles and then heads around the row of tables to the front.

  “Can we play?” Jade asks.

  “After you eat. Come over here, Jade.” I slide closer to the wall, waiting for her.

  Her face loses the excitement. “I’ll sit with Henry.” She situates herself and I wonder how the fact that she picked out a booth did not set off any alarm in my mind.

  “Um, no Jade, just while we eat.” I pat the spot next to me. Henry looks at me like I have three heads and what’s the big deal if he sits next to Jade.

  The kid will understand one day it’s not Jade sitting next to him I’m worried about, it’s the fact that--

  “Perfect.” Reed slides in next to me, his strong thigh pressing against mine. “Couldn’t have set this up any better if I’d tried.” He winks, and I slide until my entire left side of my body is pressed to the wall.

  Jade slides down into her seat across from me, focusing on her meal again. Henry sits down next to her and Reed hands him his meal. He doesn’t open the sauces, doesn’t put the straw in his cup, which I believe might be soda and he lets the kid set everything up himself. My eyes glance to Jade’s spot. Her nugget box is opened with the fries in the lid, sweet and sour sauce open and sitting next to her ketchup. I added the straw to her milk and have a napkin there for her to clean up after. The toy is tucked into my purse until she eats.

  “Looks like a car.” Reed tosses Henry the toy and the little boy catches it.

  “Have it.” Henry shrugs and sets it between him and Jade.

  “What did I get?” Jade sets her eyes on me.

  I shoot her my non-verbal ‘you know the rules’ look.


  “Henry got his. Can I have mine?”

  My eyes look over to Henry and Reed, both looking between us. Not judging, just intrigued.

  “Eat some nuggets.” I nod my head to her uneaten food.

  “Come on. I want to know what I got,” she whines, and I close my eyes because the last thing I want is for this to become a whole thing over a McDonald’s cheap toy.

  “Jade,” I give her my warning tone, but I can already tell it’s not going to work today. “Eat.” I’m a little more curt this time around.

  Reed gets the hint. “Henry, eat your meal.”

  Henry’s eyebrows crinkle at Reed’s authoritative voice. I’m sensing whoever Reed is to Henry, he’s not an authority figure.

  Henry does take a bite of his hamburger.

  Meanwhile, Jade crosses her arms over her chest in defiance.

  “If you don’t eat, you don’t play.”

  A small sound escapes Reed, but thankfully Jade didn’t hear it because her eyes are set on challenging me. I play her game, not really caring what Reed thinks. I want to drive him away anyway. Maybe I should hold the toy hostage longer, so she throws a tantrum and then he’ll realize he doesn’t want a ride on our crazy train.

  Jade slides forward, picks up a nugget and then nibbles it.

  Once she’s finally eating, I look at my plate no longer interested in eating with Reed right next to me. I pick up a fry and eat it, then take a sip of my soda. This is not a first date. This is nothing. After repeating that a few times, I finally pick up my chicken sandwich and take a bite. When the tomato and lettuce slide out of the sandwich because of the abundance of mayonnaise and it lands in my lap, I repeat to myself that this is a good sign. After all, we want Reed to run far far away.

  “Shit.” Reed’s hand moves over to pick up the vegetables out of my lap.