“They take donations of cribs and beds for foster families to use when they take children in. It’s been around for a few years but has grown a lot over the past year. We meet with them every once in a while to discuss logistics, such as drop-off locations, transporting the items, and choosing which families receive the donations.”
“What a great idea,” Jeni said. One of the top reasons they had trouble placing children in homes quickly was a lack of the tangible items required in an available home—like a bed or a car seat.
“FSD has been a huge blessing for us,” Sandra said with a warm smile. “Are we being too loud? The director is a personal friend, and he and I can get a little rowdy when we’re together.”
“No, not at all. It’s nice to hear laughter,” Jeni said and meant it. Too often the office was filled with the heartbreaking sound of a crying child.
Jeni resumed her focus to the pile of case files on her desk, full of photos, intake forms, and notes made by her predecessor and worked tirelessly to familiarize herself with the children she was now responsible for.
She had a home visit that afternoon with a family fostering a six-year-old boy whose mother was in prison on drug charges. Based on the file, the foster parents were some of the best the agency had at their disposal, and the boy had been with them for two months so far. Hopefully it would be a relatively painless check-in.
Her stomach grumbled, and she glanced at the clock, surprised to see it was past noon. She was expected at the foster family’s home at one, and she hadn’t brought lunch. She grabbed her purse and hurried outside, hoping she could quickly get in and out of the only lunch spot within walking distance.
Jeni ducked into the deli, relieved to see that the line wasn’t terrible. The store was small, and the people lined up for the cashier blocked her access to the refrigerated case that held pre-wrapped sandwiches and boxed salads. She took her place at the end to wait, pulling out her phone to enter the client’s home address. She planned her route as she took a step forward every few minutes, and when she was at the edge of the food display, she slipped her phone back into her purse.
Glancing past the guy in front of her, she noticed there was one vegetarian sandwich remaining. She internally did a fist pump. This place made the best in-house hummus and didn’t skimp on applying it to their veggie sub. It was a little far to reach yet, so she folded her hands in front of her and looked up.
The guy in front of her turned to the side and bent over slightly to peruse the available lunch options.
Jeni blinked and stood a little straighter, her brain whirring to process the signal her retinas were sending—this was, in fact, the guy who’d high-tailed it out of her neighbor’s house at six-thirty this morning. And subsequently stole her parking spot.
Dressed to impress, he now wore a crisp, white dress shirt, navy slacks, and dark tan leather oxfords. His thick, blond hair was maybe a smidge too long but had a perfect wave many women would kill for. A clean-shaven, sculpted jaw set off high cheekbones and long, dark lashes—which were particularly noticeable from the profile view she had at the moment.
He was…different, up close. If she was being honest with herself, he was one of the most attractive men she’d ever seen. She revised her earlier thought that he wasn’t up to par with the other men her neighbor invited over. He might be tied for first place with the Jason Momoa look-alike.
He smelled nice too. Clean and fresh and with a hint of some masculine cologne.
Too bad he seemed like an arrogant prick.
“Excuse me.” He reached for a salad just beyond her elbow. Okay, so he had some manners. It was in that moment that she saw the flash of blue, giving her the full effect of his masculine features, and her breath caught in her throat.
She’d always had a thing for blue eyes. Maybe she’d judged this guy too quickly. She was forming an opinion on shockingly little information, after all. Why she was even forming an opinion about him at all was beyond her, but…here she was.
But then, he put the salad back and picked up the last veggie sub, turning to face the cashier to signal he’d made his final choice.
Oh, hell no. He wasn’t taking her parking place and her favorite sandwich. Her internal filter was apparently on break, and Jeni couldn’t stop the word that blurted from her mouth.
“Seriously?”
The guy didn’t turn at the sound of her voice, likely not realizing she was talking to him.
A small voice in the back of her head reminded her of her propensity to become more than a little irrational when she was hungry, but she ignored it.
Jeni tapped his shoulder. “Excuse me.”
He looked back, and when his eyes landed on her face, his expression was pleasant but blank. “Yeah?”
He didn’t recognize her. Probably a good thing.
“Are you a vegetarian?” she asked.
His brow furrowed. “Um. No?”
“Oh. Well, you chose the last vegetarian sandwich.”
His frown deepened, and his chin moved back an inch. “So?”
A voice called out, “Next in line, please.”