Page 48 of Ruined Vows
I have a difficult time falling asleep. How do I compete with a man who doesn’t play fair? He’s got me in knots. He surprises me at every turn. But the shelter, I didn’t expect that.
He’s shown me a side of himself that is thoughtful, caring, and…dammit, downright endearing.
And for a minute, I forget I’m at war.
12
VUKAN
I DON’T BELONG HERE BUT YOU DO
I’m not supposed to be here.
Charity events aren’t my thing. Daylight, small talk, volunteers in matching T-shirts—it’s not exactly the kind of place a man like me fits in.
But she’s here. And that’s all that matters.
Wherever Bianca is, I’m going. If it’s important to her, it’s important to me. Besides, it’s a part of her that makes her,her.
I know she loves to help others. I’d be naive if I didn’t look into her background. For most people, charity work serves as a means to ease their conscience, obtain a tax deduction, establish connections with influential individuals, or enhance their professional profile.
But Bianca? The kids at the shelter and the rescued dogs are traumatized. She understands what it’s like not to have a voice. She helps those who can’t help themselves—the vulnerable populations. And, ironically, it’s the one thing Bianca can’t be herself.
Vulnerable.
Perhaps we have that in common, too.
I stride toward the main table, past donation boxes,volunteers, and a nervous-looking organizer with a clipboard and sunburned cheeks.
“Can I help you?” she asks.
I nod once, since I called ahead. “My foundation would like to contribute.”
I slide an envelope to her.
She opens it. Blinks. She opens it again, as if she hadn’t read the zeroes correctly the first time.
I’m already walking away when I hear the “Oh my God,” she breathes.
I planned to drop off the donation and leave, as I didn’t want to invade Bianca’s space.
I don’t need applause for the donation.
I just wanther.
So I left it up to fate. But before I took two steps, I saw her.
I take in her tired face. It’s a hot day, with kids and dogs running amok, and the music for the event is overkill. It’s chaotic enough without it.
She’s by the adoption tent, crouched beside a Great Dane. She’s showing a young boy how to pet it. She’s laughing as it tries to lick the glitter off her fingers. I hope it’s edible glitter for the dog’s sake.
Her hair’s pulled up in some effortless twist, but soft tendrils keep escaping and frame her face like they’ve given up obeying her, too.
She’s wearing a blue sundress, and the heart-shaped sunglasses are perched atop her head. The dress has thin straps and a cinched waist. It’s the kind of dress that flutters when she moves, and I’m already aware of the fact that she has the type of body that makes men forget their own names.
She radiates love and goodness. And her smile?
It guts me.
