Ready or Not (The Ready Series Book 4)(29)

“And how exactly can you guarantee that? I’ve lived here my entire life, and I’ve probably done every cliché first-date thing you can imagine.”

“I know, which is why we are doing something completely different.”

He held his hand out toward me and raised his eyebrow. “Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” I answered, placing my hand in his.

“Good. Let’s go get dirty.”

Jackson

“If you’re taking me to a NASCAR race, then I hate to burst your bubble, but that’s already been done,” Liv said as we pulled away from the curb of our street.

“No car racing,” I answered.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her nibble on her bottom lip as we took a left toward downtown.

“Rodeo?” she guessed.

“Around here?” I couldn’t help but laugh.

“I don’t know—I’m sure it comes to town every once in a while. I was going to guess a hike, but then you turned the wrong way, so I’m clueless.”

Placing my hand on her bouncing knee, I steadied it.

“Then, stop guessing. You don’t have to be in charge all the time, Liv. Learn to enjoy the passenger seat for a change.”

Her eyes briefly met mine before I set my sights back on the road. I heard her shift back in her seat, relaxing into it. Her leg remained steady, and her breathing evened out.

“Picnic?” she whispered.

“Shut it.” I laughed.

Ten minutes later, I was parallel-parking a block away from where we were supposed to be.

She nervously looked around. “Um…you know this isn’t a great part of town, right?”

“I’m aware.”

We stepped out of the car. I made sure the doors were locked, and nothing was in plain view. It was daytime, and my truck was by no means new, but I didn’t want to tempt anyone.

“Okay,” she answered. “I actually used to work down here, a few blocks back that way.” She pointed the opposite way we were headed. “It has a bad rap. There are lots of drug dealers, and it’s a run-down neighborhood, but there are still families who need help and children who just want someone to talk to.” She looked around, taking in the buildings, as we walked down the sidewalk, hand in hand.

“It was here where I really discovered my love for what I do. I always knew it was something I was interested in, but here—working with families and getting to know them and the lives they lived—that was when I truly knew it was what I was supposed to be doing.”

“I honestly don’t know what that’s like,” I confessed.

She stopped and looked up at me. “You don’t like being a lawyer?”

“I do, but when I hear you speak about the love you have for your profession, I realize I don’t feel that—or at least I haven’t for a long time. I remember the feeling from when I first started long ago.”

“What changed?”

“Money.” I shrugged.

She nodded, understanding seeping through her expression. “Noah,” she simply stated.

“Yeah, the curse of a single provider I guess.” My thoughts drifted back to the memory of my little man arguing over whether he needed a babysitter this afternoon. He was adamant that I could trust him to be alone. It was never a matter of trust, but more an issue of my nerves lasting through the ordeal. I knew I would have to give in soon, but in the meantime, he was stuck with a sitter.

We continued our short walk down the street in silence until she asked, “If income wasn’t a factor, what would you do?”

I thought about it for a moment. “I’d probably still be a lawyer, honestly, but I’d focus more around the ideals I value most—family and helping people who need it most.”

“Maybe someday,” she offered as we crossed the street

“Maybe someday,” I agreed.

I slowed down my gait until we came to a stop in front of the soup kitchen. She looked around, taking in the building and small sign.

“Okay, if we’re doing what I think we are, then yes, this is a definite first for me.” Her voice was excited and full of anticipation.

It was exactly what I had hoped it would be.

“How do you feel about doing a little volunteer work?”

“This is awesome, Jackson!” she squealed, throwing her arms around me in a giant hug.

I laughed and lifted her off the ground, loving the feel of her body in my arms.

“Okay, come on. We need to get inside. They start preparing dinner hours in advance.”

For the next few hours, we slaved away in the kitchen—chopping, slicing, and mixing—until our backs ached, and our fingers were ready to fall off. We talked about everything. I told her about what it was like growing up in Charleston, and she reciprocated with stories of growing up in Richmond. She also asked me about Noah. We fell into a natural rhythm. By the time the last onion was cut, we were both exhausted, but it was all worth it when the organizers placed us side by side and allowed us to help serve the meal we’d assisted in preparing.

Liv was in her element, meeting and greeting everyone, even those I’d rather she wouldn’t. She had no fear when it came to people, and she managed to break down even the hardest-looking individuals, earning a smile from them by the time their macaroni and cheese had been dished up.