Max had a nice, loud voice that carried well. And Chloe was model gorgeous, so she always managed to get the college guys to stop and talk to her. Everly figured they signed the petition just to get Chloe’s attention.
But they weren’t there to pick up. They were there to make a difference.
“We also need volunteers and donations to help run the shelter!” she yelled, handing over a flyer to a little girl smiling and reaching up. Her mother stood a few feet away, looking down at her phone.
“Give this to your mom, okay?” she whispered to the girl.
She nodded then skipped off and handed the flyer to her mother, who took one glance then shoved it back at the girl.
An older gentleman strode past as he said, “Tell them to get a job like everyone else.”
“Fuck you too,” she muttered to herself. Last time she’d been rude to a heckler, she’d gotten chastised by the others, so she tried to be more careful now. Chloe did have a point that they weren’t exactly being upstanding citizens by calling people “selfish dickwads who have more money than brain cells.”
“Don’t get discouraged,” Chloe said. “I think people will show up next week. Our Facebook post got a lot of likes.”
Everly wanted to be optimistic, but was starting to lose hope. The no-freeze shelter was an important part of their community. Open twenty-four/seven, they didn’t turn anyone away who needed somewhere warm to sleep during the winter months. Why was it so hard to get people to care?
Sometimes it just took a little perspective. She had perspective, which was why she spent her weekends off at protests and rallies, trying to fight for services and to bring awareness to the socioeconomic gap. There was a time where she wouldn’t have survived without the no-freeze shelter. Or worse—been taken away from her mother to live with strangers.
She fought back a shiver. Was it the memory or the unseasonably cold September air? She pulled her peacoat tighter around her body then spotted the coffee shop across the street.
“Hey, I’m gonna get something hot to drink,” she said to Chloe and Max. “You want anything?”
They gave her their orders, and she jogged across the busy street. The rush of warmth upon stepping into the coffee shop made her sigh with relief. Her nose started to thaw, along with her tingling fingers, as she waited in line.
After she ordered their drinks, she waited by the pickup counter and peered around the shop. She wished a place like this would let them hand out flyers inside, where it was warm and busy, but most places had a no-soliciting policy.
From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a familiar form. Large and imposing, he was hard to miss, even from across the shop.
A thrill swept through her. The last time she’d seen Ambrose, he’d been holding her in the corner, whispering naughty things in her ear. Heat warmed her insides at the memory, making her clench her thighs together.
She hadn’t heard from him since then, even though they’d left on good terms. Then again, she hadn’t exactly texted him either. But wasn’t it the guy’s job to call first? She’d been tempted, stared at his contact info on her phone, thinking through what to say, but at the last second she always chickened out. Weird for her, because she was known for having brass balls. But something about him scared her. Maybe it was the potential—hot, funny, kind, and a damned good Dom, so far. She didn’t want to fuck things up.
It crossed her mind not to say anything, but she couldn’t resist. She checked that he was alone before calling to him. “Ambrose!”
He turned, and when he spotted her, he smiled. He pushed through the crowd toward her.
The grin and the way he walked—more like stalked—toward her made him look predatory. Her legs twitched with the urge to run, to make him chase her.
Whoa. Down, girl.
She didn’t even know if he was still interested.
“Hey, there,” he said when he reached her. His gaze swept down her body then back up to her face.
She didn’t miss the heated look in his eye. It stirred her in ways so not appropriate for public.
“Getting coffee?”
She nodded, unable to find her voice for a moment. What the hell? She was a brat—since when was she intimidated by a guy she barely knew?
“Where you headed?” he asked. “Can you sit for a while?”
Her brows darted up in surprise. Maybe he was interested. The offer was tempting. Their time at The Catacombs had kept her vibrator busy the last few nights. Gazing at his face as she sat across from him would be enough to get her imagination going. But duty called. “Um. No. I’m in the middle of a social justice event, and I have to bring drinks to my friends.”
“Everly,” a barista called.
“That’s me.” She turned to the counter. “Do you have one of those tray things?”