Ian’s dark brown eyes meet mine and he frowns. “No one is out of your league. How many times do I have to tell you that? He obviously liked what he saw. And you need to get back out there. Don’t let one disastrous relationship ruin your chance to find a decent guy.”
“My head is filled with clichés of glass houses, pots, and kettles.”
“I date!”
“You don’t date. You fuck. A different girl every week, seems like.”
“So I like to shop around before I settle.”
“Well, you’re going to run out of floor models to sample if you aren’t careful. You need a good woman.”
He tugs me onto the couch and slings his arm around my neck. “I have a good woman.”
“One who also sleeps with you.” A teasing smile curves his lips, and I smack his arm. “Quit it. We tried that, remember?”
His wind mussed hair flops over his forehead as he shakes his head, laughing. “I’ll never understand how two gorgeous people can love one another yet have zero chemistry.”
“Can I borrow some of your arrogance?”
“Confidence. And yes, if you use it to get laid.”
“Shut up. Sam and Dean are on,” I exclaim, turning up the T.V. and leaning my head on his shoulder asCarry on my Wayward Sonbegins to play.
“Dean is such a badass.”
“You have a man crush on him.”
“Go fuck yourself, Ev.”
“You’d totally blow him if you had the chance.” A yelp escapes my throat when he pinches the back of my arm. His fingers thread through my hair, a comforting gesture we always share. “Thanks for coming. I needed this.”
“I got you, pup.”
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.
