Olivier (Chicago Blaze 9)

“After tonight, I’m hoping to slide back into oblivion,” Daphne cracks, but I know she’s not entirely joking.

There’s no way she can completely fly under the radar, though. She’s too bright. I don’t say that, though. I’m still feeling like a tongue-tied teenager in her presence, which is new for me. Usually I’m in control of every situation I’m in. I’m the one in the room everyone wants to impress, not the one trying to be impressive.

“I guess we should get out there,” she says with a soft sigh. “My family can be a little much, just so you know. I recommend drinking and pretending you don’t hear about seventy percent of what they say.”

“I’ll manage,” I say with a wry smile.

She leads the way back to the room we came from, and as soon as we walk in, Josephine gives Daphne a puzzled look.

“No T-shirt about crushing the patriarchy, I see,” she says. “Is it laundry day?”

Daphne shakes her head and accepts the drink Julia passes her. “Just mixing it up, Grandma Jo.”

“She’s a firebrand,” Josephine says to me, pointing at Daphne. “I won’t be surprised if I wake up some morning and she’s chained herself to a tree trying to save the earth.”

“I’m more about human rights, Grandma Jo,” Daphne says, sounding weary.

“Oh, let’s not get into all that unpleasantness,” Sandra says, scrunching her nose. “Olivier, you grew up in France, didn’t you? We’d love to hear about that.”

I spend the rest of the evening talking to Daphne’s parents. We chat about France, the stock market, politics and the Blaze. I’m disappointed to see that Daphne is hardly even paying attention. She looks like she’s just trying to survive the dinner.

I do get a warm smile as she says goodbye to me when I’m leaving, but it feels perfunctory.

I shake my head on the ride home, both frustrated and amused. Daphne Barrington couldn’t be less interested in me. I was named Hottest Bachelor in Chicago by a magazine a few months ago, I’m wealthy as fuck and I’m not bad looking.

I know she’s single and attracted to men, because her grandma made several cracks at dinner about her dirtbag ex-fiancé. But for whatever reason, Daphne isn’t the least bit interested in me.

At least, not yet.

Chapter Six

Daphne

“Grocery store sheet cakes are so underrated,” my coworker Nina says as she cuts another piece of the cake in our closet-sized breakroom. “I’ll take a piece of this over that gourmet bakery shit any day.”

“It is really good,” I agree. “Thanks again, you guys; you didn’t have to do that.”

When I got to the office this morning, Nina and our boss Ty were waiting for me with a cake that said, “Welcome back Daphne.” I got tears in my eyes when I saw it. I hugged them both, overcome with relief. Ty and Nina know I come from a wealthy family, but it’s never been an issue. With all the coverage of the accident and my family online, though, I worried that maybe they’d see me differently now.

Things haven’t changed a bit, though. Ty caught me up on what I’ve missed and then asked me to sort through the mountain of donated clothes and shoes piled up in our back room once I got caught up on email and settled.

“People donate some really nasty shit,” I tell Nina and Ty as I toss my paper plate into the trash. We wash and reuse the plastic forks, because every dollar counts here.

Nina snort laughs. “Some lady called me last week and asked how much of a tax donation she could get for giving us a snowmobile without an engine.”

“Always a helpful item for the homeless,” I say, rolling my eyes. “This morning I sorted through stained, dirty underwear with holes. And toothbrushes. Used toothbrushes with flattened bristles. People are disgusting.”

“I hope you wore rubber gloves,” Ty says.

“I doubled up.”

He glances at his watch. “After my next meeting, I’ll come take over on sorting. You should go to the bridge and see everyone. They’ve been asking about you.”

“Really?”

Ty grins. “Of course, Daphne. Everyone loves you. Ray’s been missing you something bad.”

I sigh heavily, but then laugh. Ray is a homeless man in his seventies with mental health issues who has a thing for me. He’s proposed to me at least fifty times, offering to share his tent under the bridge with me forever if I’ll have him.

“Don’t ever tell him this, but I even missed Ray,” I say. “I never would’ve imagined that’s possible. I think I will go over this afternoon.”

“We just stocked up on toiletries if you want to bring some with you,” Ty offers.

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

Visiting the homeless people who live beneath a bridge not far from the shelter is one of my favorite things to do. I stuff a backpack full of candy, socks and toiletries and pass everything out. It’s humbling to see people cry with gratitude when they receive something most of us take for granted.