He took it from me with a grin and put it on the table. “I just came to see if you wanted a drink. You’ve been flat out since you got here.”

As our gazes met, it occurred to me what a damn shame it would have been if I had hit him in the face with a chair. Because it was a very nice face. Aside from the eyes—which still captivated me no end—and the mad hair, which he’d now liberated from its net, he had cheekbones to die for and luscious, expressive lips. Ones I could well imagine kissing, and much more besides.

Shoving the lustful thoughts aside, I forced a smile. “Yes, please. That would be great. I’m almost done here, actually. Give me five minutes and I’ll be with you.”

“See you in five.” He turned to head back toward the kitchen, then threw over his shoulder, “Great job, by the way.”

I didn’t respond. I’d been too busy enjoying the view of his backside as he walked away, then his words had rendered me speechless.

The people were just so grateful. None of them really wanted to be there, taking handouts, but their circumstances left them no choice. And those circumstances were wide-ranging, from what I’d gathered from Maddox. It was a display of just how fallible humans are, of how we all make mistakes, or just get a really bum deal in life. As I took in each genuine smile, each ‘thank you’, each ‘looks great’, I realized that perhaps I was being too hard on myself. These people were human, they deserved compassion and help, a chance to get their lives back on track. And if they did, then so did I.

Yes, I’d screwed up. But nobody had died, or even gotten hurt. And it wasn’t like I planned any of it—I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Admittedly, with the wrong people. I wasn’t a bad person—just one who was a little gullible, perhaps. Well, I wouldn’t be making that mistake again. I’d heard somewhere that you’re only stupid if you make a mistake and don’t learn from it.

Feeling much more positive, I hummed a tune as I carried on with my task. I became so engrossed, having fallen into a rhythm—wipe, flip, sweep, mop—that I didn’t notice Maddox until I almost hit him in the face as I upturned a chair. Gasping, I then almost dropped the chair on his foot.

“‘Fraid so, today.” He turned back to the worktop and resumed his speedy chopping. “It’s not easy getting people to help out. Folk are happy to just throw a bit of money our way to appease their consciences, but not actually get their hands dirty. One of my regular helpers is down with the flu, so the timing of your arrival couldn’t be better. I know you’re here under duress, but still, I’m grateful.”

I frowned, but decided not to take him to task about the comment. He was only telling the truth, after all. There were a million other places I’d rather have been. “So,” I said, too brightly, “what do you want me to do?”

* * * *

Four hours later, we’d handed out the last meal and were well stuck in to getting everything cleaned up. Maddox was tackling the kitchen while I was covering the dining area. Given the state of some of the pans we’d used, I think I got the better end of the deal.

As I wiped tables and chairs, flipped chairs upside down to rest on tables and swept and mopped the floor, I was deep in thought. Helping to serve up food to those who couldn’t afford it had been nothing like I was expecting. Far from it being the grim, depressing experience I’d imagined, it had been pretty damn uplifting.