Some women make weird-ass faces as they orgasm—eyes squeezed closed, mouth contorted like they’ve just sucked on a lemon. I’d been with a woman who right before it hit, all the color would drain from her face and her eyes would go wide. Then her mouth opened for a silent scream. The first time I saw it, I thought there might be an axe murderer above me about to chop into my skull. But not Autumn. She smiled her way through orgasm. And it was fucking phenomenal.

After Bud told a few more stories about what a rotten kid I was, he excused himself to go talk to someone else.

I nodded toward the long-haired, hippie-looking guy wearing ripped jeans, who could have passed for one of the homeless who came to eat. “That’s the pastor at the local Episcopalian church. Bud doesn’t allow anyone to come in and preach—whether that be an addiction counselor or a member of the clergy. But he keeps in contact with all the local church leaders. If there’s anything going on in this community, that crew knows about it.”

Autumn watched Bud greet the pastor, and the two men walked outside together. “He’s pretty amazing. I can’t believe he’s only missed four days of serving dinner in twenty-six years. Doesn’t he ever get sick?”

“I honestly can’t remember him ever being sick, at least not sick enough to keep him down. Though I’m not sure anything could keep that man down, except maybe a rope and some chains.” I scoffed. “Even then, he’d find a way.”

“I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions about you bringing Storm here. I had no idea so many lessons could be taught in a place like this.”

“It’s fine. I should’ve given you the heads up. But I’d only planned to take him to meet Bud, not bring him to dinner here. I’m not even sure what I expected to happen by bringing him to Bud’s place. I guess I just feel like Bud saved me, so maybe some of that might rub off on Storm.”

Autumn smiled warmly. “I guess your mom had you volunteer with Bud because you got yourself into trouble as a teenager?”

I pushed the corn on my plate around with my fork. “Volunteer? Not exactly. I started working for Bud because I was hungry.”

Autumn’s smile wilted. “Oh, I’m sorry. I just assumed…”

“It’s fine. You don’t have to be sorry. I’m not ashamed of where I came from or the things I had to do to eat. Not anymore, anyway. I just don’t talk about them often because once people know your mother was a prostitute and sometimes disappeared for days or weeks at a time, leaving an eight year old to fend for himself, they look at you differently.”

Autumn’s face softened. I pointed at it with my fork. “Like that. They look at me exactly like that.”

She smiled. “Sorry. Do you have any other family?”

“Just Bud. My mother’s still alive—at least the last time she made contact to ask for money she was. My father was a John. My mother had no idea which one and didn’t seem to think it was important anyway. Both my grandparents died before I was born. They had my mom late in life, and as far as I know, she was an only child. Although, half the stuff that comes out of my mother’s mouth is lies, so it’s possible I have some blood relatives somewhere. I could be related to the Queen of England, for all I know.”

Autumn was quiet for a moment. “It’s funny. You’re sort of like an onion. The first time we met at that coffee shop, I thought I had you pegged.”

“Pegged as what?”

She shrugged. “I assumed you were like most of the men I grew up around in Old Greenwich, Connecticut—smart, educated, well-off, a silver spoon of sorts. You know, with going to Harvard and wearing custom-made shirts and cufflinks. Though the thirty mini bottles of shampoo and conditioner and other stuff that were in your suitcase really confused me.”

“That makes two of us, then. I was confused as to why you needed four giant vibrators in your bag.”

Autumn’s cheeks turned bright pink. She covered her face with her hands. “Oh my God.” She laughed. “I can explain that...”

“I sort of figured it out once we had coffee and you mentioned that you’d just come back from a bachelorette party and had some embarrassing decorations in your bag. Unless you just usually carry those around with you.” I lifted my chin toward her purse. “Is there one in there right now?”

“No!” She laughed. “God…I’m glad at least we were both snoopers, then.”

“I actually hadn’t gone through your bag until you were so adamant about me not going through it. Then I had to.”

“Alright, well...” She shook her head. “You know why I had some odd stuff. So I think it’s only fair that you tell me about the stuff in your bag. Did you pass an unattended housekeeping cart on your way out and feel like a rebel or something?”

“Nah. Just an old habit. When I was a kid and my mom didn’t come home for a long stretch, I’d run out of most things. So I’d sneak into a hotel, find someone from housekeeping, pretend I was a guest and ask for a few extra of everything.” I shrugged. “I travel a decent amount for business, so I haven’t paid for shampoo or toothpaste in years. I usually don’t ask for extra anymore, unless I happen to see a person from housekeeping in the hall. On that trip, when I passed the room next door, a woman was cleaning. I asked if she could leave an extra or two in my room. She said no problem and told me I looked just like her son. When I came back, she’d left a shitload.”

Autumn smiled. “See? You’re an onion. I never would’ve guessed you had all those tattoos hidden under the crisp dress shirt you wore when we met at Starbucks either. When I asked you about them, you said you went through some wild teenage years. So I assumed you’d rebelled against your uptight, wealthy family for a while. Then there were the plants all over your apartment. Those really threw me, for some strange reason. You said you just liked plants, but I assumed there’d been a woman in your life at one point who’d left them behind.”

I smiled. “Bud got me into plants. I work too much to have a dog or a hobby, so they’re pretty much it.”

“I see that now.”

“Plus, they don’t talk back.”

“Talk back? As in, you talk to them?”

I shrugged. “Usually I just practice my opening or closing for a case on them, but sometimes they catch the brunt of things when I’m pissed off.”

Autumn smiled. I couldn’t help but stare at her lips. When she caught me, I pointed down to her plate. “You want more?”

She rubbed her stomach. “No, thanks. But it was really delicious.”

I nodded. “So what’s your story? You know so much about my life now, yet I don’t really know much about you.”

“What do you want to know?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. How’d you get into social work? Did you always want to help kids?”

“No, I pretty much took the long road to get here. I went to undergrad school for business and then started law school at Yale. But I did my first year and decided it wasn’t what I wanted to do.”

“Seriously?”

“Yup. You already know my father is a lawyer. Yale was his alma mater, and he’d always hoped I’d go there.”