Food for the Soul (7 page)

The apartment was old, but it was clean and thoughtfully put together. After a small amount of snooping, he discovered a door to the left led to a small but functional bathroom. There was no kitchen. She must use the large and updated space downstairs in the communal areas for her needs as well. Although, now that he thought about it, she cooked all day for the visitors. She probably ate what she cooked for them.

Harper had anywhere from one to two hundred visitors per mealtime, not counting those stopping by for a place to sit and rest throughout the day. It was a large number of people to stop and chat with, to smile for, and to provide a warm meal. And yet, as Theo looked around the small room she would sleep in when the building was shut down and the doors locked, he couldn’t help but think it was lonely.

Did she have friends? Where was her family? Why hadn’t someone been with her when the attack happened? If she’d had someone here, they could have warned her or prevented it altogether.

“Is everything all right?” Her voice pulled him away from the bathroom. She was standing in front of the curtains, holding her purse. Her long, black hair was free and falling around her face in a wavy silken mass, reaching below her ample breasts. Her figure was perfection. She stood tall, with hips that curved out and rounded over an ass he could squeeze for days. Her skin was dark caramel, Latino coloring mixed with Anglo features. Her name certainly wasn’t Hispanic. It brought the question of her family back to mind, but that was pushed aside as he looked into her light-brown eyes, almost a greenish brown but not fully hazel.

A wave of angry proprietary nature surged from the core of his being, a facet of his personality as a doctor he’d always been able to utilize when caring for his patients. Now it morphed into something new, a force more personal and protective. He walked toward her, as he had done in the kitchen, pulled her purse from her hands, and then tugged her close into his body. He needed to feel her heartbeat and the sweet-smelling warmth from her skin.

A woman who gave her life to the care of others shouldn’t live like this. He would change that, and he would do it with Flynn.

Her eyes were wide, but she didn’t seem to think his touch unwelcoming. She rested her hands on his biceps, and her body canted toward his.

“Stay at my apartment after dinner tonight.”

“What? No.” She tried to pull away, but he looked past her momentary outrage and rested his forehead on her shoulder. His arms came around her fully, squeezing her tight. She stilled.

He spoke into her skin when he said, “I don’t like the thought of you here alone. I know you’re fully capable of taking care of yourself and what happened was a freak accident because somebody in the kitchen had been careless. But still…until we shore the security here a bit, please stay at my place.”

“Theo—”

“It’s a good idea,” Flynn said from the doorway, the creaky hinges screaming into the quiet moment. Theo straightened but kept her against his side. “I have an idea for some security upgrades. Cameras, alarm functions. Things like that.”

“I can’t afford that shit,” Harper said, sounding exasperated, as though she said those words a lot.

“Consider it a donation. An organization that provides this much for the community should have a proper security system.”

“Yeah, because all this spoiled food is so valuable.” She huffed, and Theo had to keep himself from grinning like an idiot when she leaned into him, her cheek rubbing against his shoulder. “Who is going to set all this fancy security up?”

“I know a guy.”

“Oh, now that doesn’t sound sketchy.” She laughed.

Theo picked up her purse from where he’d chucked it on the floor and handed it back to her. She quirked her eyebrow at him, no doubt for his previous behavior.

“Well?” Theo asked.

“Well…I’m hungry. Flynn said he’d feed us.” She turned to the man in question. “Where are we going?”

“I know a place.”

She snorted. “You know a guy. You know a place.” She shook her head slowly as she approached Flynn. “I’m gonna start to think you’re in the mob.”

“I’d tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.” Flynn kissed her quickly. “And I’d like to fuck both of you before that happens.”

Theo cleared his throat, unprepared for another heavy, lust-filled moment as they’d had downstairs. He needed food and to clear his mind before considering what Flynn wanted to do. The idea of having another man in his bed, inside his body, it was too much to think about yet. He needed to get to know them better, but first…

“Harper, pack a bag, and you can stay with me until Flynn gets a security system up and running. I have a guest bedroom.”

She sighed. “You’re not gonna let up on this, are you?

“Nope,” both men said.

“Misogynistic bastards,” she muttered as she pulled a duffel bag from underneath her bed.

“Aw, c’mon, baby,” Flynn said, leaning against the door frame. He’d lowered his voice and put on a heavy New York accent. “You know that’s what you love about us.”

She shoved a pair of jeans into the bag before turning to them. “I’m gonna punch you both in the balls. How’s that for love?”

As Flynn and Harper continued to tease one another, Theo leaned back against the wall with the red couch. He chuckled as Flynn pulled out some skimpy underwear from Harper’s drawers and she grabbed them and slapped him with them. Theo let his gaze roam again, taking in the small space.

She had watercolor paintings on the wall near the bathroom. Nothing fancy, and some were definitely drawn by children. But one thing caught his eye, something that seemed out of place. She had no pictures except what had been given to her by the visitors of the kitchen, save for one. An old Polaroid tacked to the wall near the only window in the room. Without thinking, Theo walked toward it to get a better look.

A young Harper, she couldn’t have been older than eighteen, stood with another young woman, their arms wrapped around each other in adolescent glee. Harper’s hair was short, chin length with streaks of pastel colors in it. The other girl was white, with green eyes and blonde dreadlocks hanging long down her body. They were bundled for the winter, and their faces were a bit dirty, but they seemed happy.

“Ready?” Flynn asked. He had one arm around Harper’s shoulders while the other held the full duffel bag. Harper saw where he’d been looking but didn’t comment on who the girl was. He decided not to ask.

“Yes. Let’s eat.” He met them at the door, holding it open for both of them. Flynn surprised Theo as he passed, leaning in to give him a quick peck on his cheek. Theo didn’t know if he’d ever get used to that short and easy affection, but he knew for certain that he liked it. Maybe if he didn’t get used to it, he would never take it for granted, always hold it as a precious part of his heart.

Chapter Four

For dinner, Flynn decided on a small but popular family-run diner. A young man greeted them at the host’s stand and instantly recognized Flynn. The kid asked about Ben, a favorite of the waitresses. Flynn seemed to come often with his kid. This delighted Harper. The more she learned about the single man and his son, the more she grew to like and appreciate him. She was almost impressed with her pigheadedness that she’d ignored this budding feeling for Flynn, a feeling that was now only exacerbated by her new attraction to Theo.

After looking over his shoulder at the empty dining room, the host shrugged and told them to sit wherever they wanted. The trio chose a corner booth far from where the diner employees were milling about near the kitchen. Considering the heated direction their conversation had turned in back at the kitchen, it was probably better to sit in a more private location to avoid being overheard. Flynn settled on one side and waved for Harper and Theo to sit on the other. Knowing what they would probably be discussing, Harper appreciated Flynn’s gesture, as she worried Theo wouldn’t be comfortable sitting next to the first man he’d ever kissed. She hoped that wasn’t the case.

There was nothing wrong or scandalous with what they were doing, but it was important to keep such a new entity to themselves and let them process it together before allowing the world to see and have its say. The world could be a cold, cruel place. A fact she was reminded of by the pitying look she received from the young waitress as she reached their table and eyed Harper’s bruise. Harper figured she would need to get used to that until it healed.

“Flynn, I think you need to take better care of your friends,” the young lady said, eyeing Flynn like he’d come in late for dinner and tracked mud all over the floor.

“I can take care of myself, thanks. And I’ll have a large plate of fries,” Harper said, not bothering to open the menu. “With sides of ketchup, honey mustard, and barbecue sauce.”

This time, the waitress turned her stink eye on Harper. “There ain’t anything wrong with needing help or care, and it doesn’t make you a damsel in distress. It makes you human.” The woman turned to Theo and took his order, cutting off any chance of an argument from Harper. Harper wouldn’t have said anything, though, as the words echoed too close to home of something Callie had once said.

They had been sitting on the sidewalk and writing signs on cardboard, asking for money. Harper had been appalled, but Callie—on and off homeless since childhood due to an unstable family life—turned to Harper and smiled, like it was no big thing.

 “It’s only human to ask for help, Harp. Most of us wouldn’t survive without a helping hand every now and then…no matter how small.”

A warm hand on her wrist brought her back to the present. The waitress was gone, and both men were staring at her. Neither of them seemed to notice where her thoughts had been. They both look as content as they had since arriving.

“That’s all you wanted?” Theo asked Harper. Lord, the man was beautiful, but at the moment, his expression was a bit too shrewd for Harper’s liking.

She shrugged. “I’m not that hungry after throwing away all my food.”

His eyes narrowed. “Is your jaw in pain?”

“No…not really.” She crumbled under his steady gaze, feeling like a scolded child. “It only hurts a little.”

“Have you been taking the pain killers we prescribed?”

“Yes.” She grabbed the water-stained drink menu from the end of the table and began to blindly scan the options.

“Harper…”

“No,” she admitted, feeling weird about lying to him, though it was only a teasing halfhearted lie. “I don’t like to be muddled. I need to stay sharp. Will you stop looking at me like I’m some little creature to be pitied,” she snapped. “For the last time, I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” Flynn said. “There’s something else bothering you, something more than the attack.”

She bit her bottom lip, hoping to keep avoiding the fact of her kitchen’s future for a while longer.

Flynn leaned forward and tapped her lip gently. She wondered what he would have done if they were in a more private spot. “Maybe we can help?”

Flynn was a kind soul, but there was nothing he or Theo could do to help. Nobody could help, and she needed to start facing the reality of her future. She would be on her own again, without a purpose. The desperate thought brought out a vulnerability that made her give herself up.

“I don’t have enough money to make this month’s mortgage payment. The new bank owners have been strict about late payments, and I’ve been late a few times this year already, and now that there’s no money…I’m gonna lose the kitchen.” The thought of her account manager at the bank made her blood boil. “They’ll take it like it’s nothing, like everything I wanted and worked for on behalf of this damn community—that everybody conveniently forgot about—like it all means nothing. They don’t care.”

Harper balled up the flimsy drink menu and threw it toward the wall, wishing it would break through the plaster. Instead, it bounced off and landed in Theo’s outstretched hand.

“Can’t we have a fundraiser or something to help out?” Theo asked, dropping the menu on the table, then placing his hand on her shoulder to rub her muscles. His hands were large, and the pressure on her tired skin felt good.

“It’s not a matter of getting the money. What I need is time. The due date passed while I was in the hospital, and the bank is already leaving messages on my voice mail.”

“Why did you start the kitchen?” Theo asked, not having had the benefit of volunteering at the kitchen like Flynn and hearing her spiel, as Flynn had called it.

She braced herself for another look of pity and sympathy. Most people would never be able to fathom what living on the streets was like.

“I was homeless for most of my teenage years.” She expected a reaction, but he remained silent, waiting for her to continue. “I was too independent for my own good, thought I knew better than my family on how I should live my life.” She remembered the fights she and her mother had had, the screaming and self-righteous anger of a teenager chomping at the bit for more freedom. Her mom had been right not to give it to her. She hadn’t been ready, but that hadn’t stopped her from taking it anyway.

“How old were you when you ran away?” Theo asked, moving his hand from her shoulder to the back of her neck, massaging. She usually didn’t give these specific details out during her intro to volunteers, but the facts came easily for Flynn and Theo.

“Fifteen.” That fact earned a muttered curse, but she didn’t respond, instead simply focused on the feel of Theo’s hand.

“Where did you go?” Flynn asked, having never heard this much detail before.

“The city. I spent time with a group of artists for a while, worked odd jobs to pay my portion of rent. We were evicted when the building was bought. We rented and were chucked to the curb like the trash. I couldn’t find another apartment after that.” Winters on the streets of New York City weren’t fun. The cold had eaten at her, and she’d walked all day to keep warm until she finally couldn’t walk anymore because there had been holes in her shoes and the wet slush of dirty snow had soaked her only pair of socks. It was the same every year, and now, when the wind had enough bite to it, the scents and sensations of living on the street came back to her and she felt the familiar despondency and anger she’d often lived with during those years.