in the world like this made him feel exposed.
Judged.
The real Heath Stone wasn’t exactly a guy people took to right away. And who could blame them?
Most days Heath didn’t even like himself.
“Oh, don’t worry too much about it,” Olivia said, cutting him a break. “It may take a while, but Amos will warm up to you once he gets to know you.”
“How long you plan to stay?” Bruce asked. A smirk twisted one corner of his mouth. “I’ve been here three months and he’s still calling me Bryan.”
“Well, Bryan,” Olivia picked up the joke, “things are under control in here so how about checking with Velma to see if she needs help? With these freezing temps I expect a full-capacity night.”
Bruce nodded, scrapped his pile of chopped vegetables into a container and stored it in an oversized fridge. He hung his apron over a peg on the way out of the kitchen.
“Sorry I got off to a bad start,” Heath felt he should apologize, though he wasn’t sure he’d done anything so awful.
“Most people have the same experience with Amos.” Olivia tore big sheets of tin foil from a roll mounted on the wall and tucked them over the giant bowl of mashed potatoes.
“Including you?” Heath grabbed paper towels and began to clean up the mess he’d made.
When she didn’t respond right away, he glanced up. He was captivated for the second time that hour by the fair skin that rose above the neck of her sweater and the short crop of jet-black hair framing her face. Something quickened inside Heath’s chest at the thought of this woman being guilty of trafficking drugs, especially if it was to support her thieving father who’d fled the country a decade earlier to avoid prosecution for tax evasion. The Feds had never given up on finding Dalton Wyatt and they wondered if he might somehow be behind the recent influx of meth and ecstasy that seemed to be passing through this shelter.
Heath watched tiny lines crinkle the corners of Olivia’s indigo eyes, where she squinted as if the answer to his question was a pleasant memory.
“God’s touch was all over my first encounter with Amos.” The event was a sweet memory for Olivia. “We hit it off right away. He needed a place to live and I needed someone I could depend on.”
“What about your family?” Heath dipped his chin and turned his attention to wiping down the countertop.
“I’ve been on my own since high school, so help from family hasn’t been an option for years.”
She wondered how his life compared to hers. Wondered if he could possibly understand what it was like to be alone in the world, not knowing whether you’d have food to eat or a roof over your head from one day to the next. Heath Stone spent his life sitting at a computer while she went door-to-door asking for donations to feed the hungry. They probably didn’t have much in common at all.
Still, she’d been asked by Detective Biddle to let Heath repay his debt to the community through service at her mission. Maybe the time he spent at Table of Hope would have a life-changing impact. Maybe he’d find even more than anyone expected.
Chapter Two
Olivia watched Heath throughout the meal. He was obviously uncomfortable having his dinner in a shelter. He avoided eye contact, ate with his head down. He kept his elbows pulled close to his body, careful not to brush against his neighbors as if that would keep their cooties away.
The guy was definitely out of place among the homeless but after the strained introductions in the kitchen she suspected he might never find his personal comfort zone.
Anywhere.
Though Detective Biddle had briefly shared the circumstances that cost Heath a hundred hours of community service, she knew nothing about him personally. Was he a political activist or just a prankster? What on earth had compelled him to make the trip over from his home in Austin, visit the public library in Waco and use his talent to break into the city’s computer system? Whatever his objective, the price of reaching it had been high. The court had slapped Heath with the maximum number of hours and threatened him with contempt if he left Waco without serving his full sentence. They’d even impounded his vehicle!
If not for the creative thinking of Detective Biddle, Heath could be working highway detail during the coldest year on record. From the hangdog expression on his face he might actually prefer the road crew to eating in her cozy dining hall and sleeping in the men’s quarters for a while.
A shoulder nudged playfully against Olivia’s.
“Ain’t he somethin’, just like I said?” Velma whispered.
“Would you stop!” Olivia hissed, hiding the humor that would only encourage her friend.
“Mmm, mmm, mmm,” Velma smacked her always-painted lips. “That man needs a lady friend and I just might have to apply for the job, even if it’s only part-time.”
As Olivia stood to clear her plate from the table, she gave Velma’s arm a pinch. “You behave yourself,” she instructed. “We have rules here and for good reason.”
Even so, it was impossible to disagree with Velma’s assessment. Heath’s questioning brown eyes had met Olivia’s only once across the table. For the brief seconds she’d held his gaze, a deep sense of emptiness had stirred in her spirit. Olivia wasn’t experienced enough with relationships to know if the need she recognized was his or her own.
As she carried her plate toward the cleanup station, she tried to imagine what Heath thought of her cheerfully painted dining hall. She sniffed the warm air, wrinkled her nose. Okay, it got a bit smelly in the evenings with all the food and the crowd of people right off the street. But before lights out everyone would have an opportunity to freshen up, to appreciate a brief shower.
The hot water heaters would be nearly empty by the time the staff had a turn. But with a man as handsome as Heath Stone as their new resident, the chill of a cold shower was probably a good idea. Especially for Velma!
If Heath added up all the dishes he’d washed in his twenty-nine years of life, it would still be less than the number of plates that passed through his sink tonight. He was fairly sure this would become a frequent event, so he needed to accomplish the job he’d been sent to do and then make tracks toward a new future in a new place.
Just today he’d firmly decided to leave the force.
“I gotta get out of drug enforcement, Biddle,” Heath had complained to his trusted friend at lunchtime over chips and vending machine sandwiches. “What’s the use in bustin’ college kids for dime bags when there’s an endless supply out there? It’s just a waste of effort and tax dollars.”
“Oh, come on,” Biddle chuckled. “It was a bigger deal than that. You’re just sufferin’ poststakeout blues. You say this every time a case wraps and you have to cool your heels waitin’ on the grand jury.”
Bill Biddle was patient to a fault when a cop needed to let off steam. Venting had become a daily occurrence for Heath, frustrated as he was by the constant stream of drugs across the Mexican border into Texas.
“It
