Page 41 of Say Yes to the Nemesis

This is the guy I’ve been crushing on from a safe distance? The one I wrote off as cocky and selfish? Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I don’t know him at all.

“That Ryan. Six-five. Dark hair. Handsome as hell? Yeah, that’s the one. He’s a regular volunteer here.”

Ryan ties his apron around his waist and laughs with someone while he unpacks produce. He looks relaxed and comfortable. He gives every indication that this isn’t a joke. It throws me. Hard.

It’s not just the apron or the laugh. It’s the way he blends in here. Like this isn’t a gimmick for him. It’s a habit. I’ve never seen him like this. I’ve never seen anyone like this.

Tying the apron around my waist, I put my head down and start assembling boxes for the food pantry. After I stack about fifty boxes in a towering pile against the wall, I back up into a hard surface.

“Watch out.”

I jump out of my skin and look up. Of course, it’s him. Ryan is right there, looking down at me with those blue eyes.

I try to play it off. “I didn’t realize you did charity work,” I say, sort of making conversation as I move away.

He gives me a knowing look. “You say that as if you think I can’t be a decent human being.”

He’s right. I definitely did not imagine this was one of his off-ice activities, but there’s no reason to admit that.

“I never said that,” I lie.

He shrugs. “When I was a kid, my sister and I used to come to places like this. We didn’t always have enough food or know where our next meal was coming from. So kitchens and pantries like this got us through a lot of really hard times.”

His voice is calm, but his words land like a punch. He’s not telling me for drama or attention. There are no cameras watching.

Apparently, there’s a wealth of things I don’t know about my so-called best enemy.

I don’t know what to say, so I just shrug awkwardly. “It’s saintly that you give back,” I finish lamely.

He gives me a funny look, like I’ve just said something off the wall. But before I can say anything else, a volunteer comes over and pulls us both into packing some of the boxes I just made with canned goods and produce. I’m paired with Ryan because of proximity, but he doesn’t even prod me like I’m expecting him to. He’s efficient and focused, stuffing cans into boxes without saying a word.

I expect his usual self. Flirty, joking, distracted. But he’s just working. Quick hands. Quiet intensity. Like this actually matters to him.

“Wren.”

I blink and cough into my elbow. “What? What now?”

He stares at me. “Are you going to finish putting apples in the boxes?”

“Yup. Yep. Doing that right now.”

He isn’t just economical with his own time. He expects everyone else to be, too. There’s no screwing around here. The look on his face is slightly impatient, like I’m a wayward boat that he has to steer in the right direction yet again.

For a hot second, I long to be the one he notices. Like I matter. Like I’m part of the world he keeps for himself. But I don’t get that look. I never have.

I pick up my pace and try to focus only on getting produce into boxes. He comes right behind me and fills in a few more pantry staples, then I tape the boxes closed.

I look at him expectantly. “What now?”

He glances at his watch and jerks his head toward the kitchen. “Come on. Let’s go jump onto the line and help distribute hot meals for a while. We can tell the girls working there to come over here and make some more boxes.”

I nod. “I’m following you.”

He cuts in, telling a couple of the contestants to take over where we just were. JacqLyn sweetly welcomes him, offering to give him mashed potatoes to dole out.

I roll my eyes and put on a fresh pair of clear plastic kitchen gloves, then get to work with a slotted spoon full of green beans. JacqLyn is suddenly very into giving out the rolls at the end of the line and squeezes next to Ryan affectionately.

“I just love doing this,” she says. “Thanks so much for setting this up. This is really important work.”