Heating Up the Holidays 3-Story Bundle(34)

Her eyes glow. “Damion.” She smiles. “I heard something to that effect. I approve, for the record. He works too much. He needs someone to slow him down. I’ll catch up with you later.” She disappears out the door.

“Maggie lost her husband the Thanksgiving before last, and Damion thought she needed a second home. He brought her here to volunteer and she just showed up every Saturday after. She’s all excited about planning the holiday meal this year. Of course, she picks up McDonald’s better than she cooks, but she tries.”

“Is this the time I admit Taco Bell is my specialty?” I ask sheepishly.

She levels me with a warning look. “No Taco Bell. You want Mexican, I’ll cook it right here for you. Let’s skip the kitchen and go to the lounge.”

We head into a small TV room with worn leather couches and chairs. “Looks like we have it all to ourselves.” Dehlia plops down on a leather couch and then motions for me to sit. “Damion says you want to talk to me about the shelter, for next weekend?”

“Oh, yes.” I settle across from her in a chair. “Can you tell me the history of this place?”

“Well, honey, I immigrated here with my mother. She died of cancer not long after I turned sixteen. I was homeless and scared and landed in a place like this that was more nightmare than shelter. One of the young men who came in to teach us English adopted me. Together he and I vowed to make the shelter better. My husband and I took it over and ran it for many years, until he passed five years ago. That’s when Damion stepped in and created this place.”

So Damion is behind this. “How did you meet Damion?” Her eyes soften. “He didn’t tell you.”

“Tell me?”

“He knew I would, of course.” Her eyes tear up. “He gets upset talking about it. He doesn’t talk about it.”

My eyes tear up, too, and I’m not sure why. Because hers do. Because I know she’s about to tell me something that hurts Damion. I move to sit next to her. “Tell me. Please.”

“When he was seventeen, he and his mother were here in the shelter. Or the old shelter, before we moved.”

“Damion was homeless.”

She nods. “His mama had lost her job and they had no family. Four days they were here when she just dropped dead.”

I gasp and cover my mouth. “No. God. No.”

“It was horrible,” she says grimly, swiping away a tear. “I was there. I still remember like yesterday. And that poor boy lost it. He was lying over her, screaming for his mama. He went into shock and had to be hospitalized.”

Tears spill down my cheeks. “How long?”

“Two weeks. When he got out, he was my boy. My Roberto and I nurtured him back to health. Six months later it was like he found someplace to put it all. He turned eighteen and took a job on commission, selling stocks or some deal like that, and the next thing we knew he was making money and always trying to give us some. He never turned his back on us, though. He was here every weekend.”

I stand up. “I need to see him.”

She tugs me down. “No. Not here. It’s too emotional for him. Talk to him alone.” I swallow hard. “I just want to go hug him.”

She smiles. “He can use some hugs. He doesn’t let anyone in. There was a girl years back, when he first got money. He met her here and thought they were alike. Soon she started milking him for money and he got tired of it. Gave her some cash and sent her on her way. Only she wanted more cash. She threatened to say she was abused at the shelter.”

“What did he do?”

“Dared her to do it, and thankfully she didn’t.”

I stand up. “I’m not going to say anything to him, but I want to be with him right now.” She pushes to her feet and squeezes my arm. “I like that idea. Then later I’ll teach you to cook and you can help with Thanksgiving dinner.”

“I’ll make the tea and roll napkins or something.” She grins. “I can teach you to cook.”

No. She can’t teach me to cook. But she’s taught me a lot about Damion.

A few minutes later Dehlia leaves me in the sports center, and I watch Damion laughing and joking with a group of ten teenage boys. He glances my way. Our eyes meet and he sets down his paddle and walks toward me, and I have only one thought: I’m falling in love with this man. No. I don’t care if it’s too soon. This is Vegas, after all. I love him.

He stops in front of me, lacing his fingers with mine.

“Hey,” I say.

“She told you.”

“Yes. She told me. Why—”

“I still can’t talk about it. I know it’s crazy—it’s fifteen years ago—but I still get … just … can’t.”

“You are the most incredible person.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yeah, you are. And I’m going to spend as much time as you let me making sure you know it and showing you in any way I can.”

“Just be with me, Kali. That’s enough.”

“I am. I am with you.”

He strokes hair from my eyes. “You know what you can do for me now?”

“What?”

“Help me convince these boys they aren’t ever going to beat me at Ping-Pong.” I laugh at his change of mood. “I bet I can.”