We pulled into the parking lot a few minutes later, the building ahead of us small, but bustling with activity. People were moving in and out, carrying trays and supplies, their laughter and chatter filling the air. Harle cut the engine and turned to me, his eyes searching mine.

“You ready?”

“Yeah. Let’s do this.”

The kitchen door opened to a wall of sound - metal spoons against pots, laughter, conversation. It was a little overwhelming.

“Harle! Good to see ya, man!” A tall, broad-shouldered man with salt-and-pepper hair waved us over.

Harle grinned, giving him a firm handshake. “Good to see you too, Tom.” He turned slightly, gesturing toward me. “This is Cassidy, she’s here to help out tonight. Cassidy, this is Tom, the kitchen manager.”

Tom’s eyes lit up as he looked at me, his smile warm and genuine. “Well, any friend of Harle’s is more than welcome here. Glad to have you, Cassidy.”

I smiled back. “Thanks. Happy to be here.”

Tom nodded. “Alright then, grab yourselves some aprons and we’ll get you set up.”

I followed Harle through the bustling kitchen, weaving between volunteers and staff members, to where the aprons were hanging.

Harle plucked one off the hook and faced me, holding the apron open. I lifted my arms, and his fingers brushed my neck as he settled it over my shoulders.

“Turn around,” he instructed softly.

I did, shivering as his knuckles grazed my lower back while he tied the strings. His touch lingered a moment too long, and I fought to keep my breathing steady. The air felt thick between us, charged with an electricity that could burn me if I wasn’t very fucking careful.

He gave me a reassuring pat on the ass and his voice rumbled in my ear when he said, “There, all set.”

I turned back to face him, smoothing down the front of the apron. “Thanks,” I murmured, meeting his eyes. For a moment, we just stood there, the chaos of the kitchen fading into the background. He was so fucking gorgeous, it was a crime.

“Harle! We could do with a hand over here!”

That snapped us both out of whatever the fuck that trance was that we’d just tumbled into.

Harle led me to the counter and positioned me in front of a giant pot of soup. “It’s two scoops per bowl and one slice of bread. If someone wants to chat, let them. This isn’t a corporate burger joint, so there’s no need to hurry anyone along.”

“Got it.”

I stood beside Harle, ladling soup into bowls and handing out slices of bread. The rhythm of the work was soothing, and I found myself relaxing into it. As we served, Harle greeted each person with a friendly smile and often by name.

“Hey there, Al. How’s that job search going? Any luck with that construction crew I told you about?”

Al’s face lit up. “Starting Monday, actually. Thanks for the lead.”

“Congrats, man. That’s great news.”

“Stella! Good to see you. Is your daughter feeling better?”

“She sure is. That specialist you lined up for us is doing wonders.”

“I’m glad to hear it. You just let me know if you need any more help.”

“Will do.”

And on it went. He seemed to know everyone. Their names. their worries, what they needed. It was absolutely fascinating to me, causing countless questions to whirl through my mind. It was like putting together a puzzle, but I was missing most of the pieces.

What had happened in his life to bring him here? What kind of man was he, really?

HARLE