A strange smile crept over his mouth. "You're very welcome," he said. "Ready to get going?"
I nodded, still staring at his mouth—that beautiful, sensual mouth I now knew could bring so much pleasure. When I realized those lips were curving into an even bigger, knowing smile, I ripped my eyes away and looked down at my suitcase in my hand. Grayson chuckled softly as he grabbed his bag and we both walked out to the hall.
"You sure you don't mind making a stop at the drop-in center?" I asked, changing the subject I knew we were both thinking about, eyeing him sideways as we walked toward the elevator. I loved the way he looked fresh from the shower—dark hair partially wet and tousled, his clean masculine smell enveloping me. I wasn't sure how what we'd done the night before was going to change anything as far as our relationship went, so I waited for a signal from him. Maybe it wouldn't change anything at all. That's what he'd indicated to me when he'd first talked about altering our deal. Temporary, I reminded myself. He wants our relationship to be temporary. Don't get any ideas in your stupid head, Kira.
"Not at all," he said. "As long as we don’t stay too long. I'd like to get back to the vineyard early enough to get some work in today."
"We won't stay long," I reassured him. "Just long enough to say hi and write them a check. I have a few other charities I'd like to write checks to as well, but I can put those in the mail."
Half an hour later we pulled in to the drop-in center’s parking lot in the Tenderloin district, arguably the most dangerous neighborhood in San Francisco. But rent here was affordable, unlike most other locations in the city, and there was a high homeless population.
When Grayson and I entered the building, an old, obviously homeless man pushed past us, and the noise of talking, laughter, and a crying child somewhere in the background filled the air. The smell I recognized as sloppy joes hit my nose.
A woman with short, black curly hair came rushing toward us, the familiar face I knew well. "Is that you, Kira Dallaire?" She let out a small screech as she drew me into her arms, hugging me to her soft, large body. I laughed.
"Hi, Sharon."
"Girl, I was so upset I wasn't here the other day when you stopped in. Carlos told me you'd been by. It's been far too long." She looked at me with motherly concern, sizing me up. "Well you look good. But how are you? And what happened to your face?" she asked, pressing her fingers gently on my cheek and turning my head so she could see the large mark that still hadn't entirely faded.
I smiled, letting Sharon's warmth move through me. "I'm good. And that is courtesy of my father, but I'm okay."
Sharon scowled, pressing her lips together. "I'm glad I never voted for that man. Anything I can do?"
I shook my head. "It's taken care of." I looked at Grayson beside me. "Sharon Murphy, this is Grayson Hawthorn." I purposefully didn't offer an explanation of our relationship. Sharon eyed me suspiciously, but held her hand out to Grayson and smiled warmly at him. "We can't stay long, Sharon, but I wanted to write a check. I talked to Carlos about the situation with funding."
Sharon sighed. "I have to be honest, Kira, we're going to have to close the doors until the grant comes through."
"Well, now you don't." I smiled.
Sharon hugged me again. "You have such a huge heart, sweet girl. Bless you." With tears shimmering in her eyes, Sharon turned to Grayson. "Would you like a tour of our facility? Kira, there are a few kids you know outside. They'd love it if you went and said hi," she said, winking at me.
I glanced at Grayson who was looking around the facility I'd spent so much time in. It was so strange to see him there. "Do you mind?"