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He smiles. His hair is disheveled and he’s wearing a plain white t-shirt and jeans. I’ve never seen him look so casual.
“You mean what am I doing at the Archer Foundation? Beckham Archer?” He laughs and runs his hand through his mussed-up hair. It’s so effortlessly sexy and cute.
I playfully smack his arm. “I mean—well, yeah, I guess that’s exactly what I mean. I’ve volunteered at a lot of places and I’ve never seen one of the people whose names are on the foundation actually volunteering.”
“Ah, well, you caught me. I am, in fact, a billionaire who actually volunteers. But let’s keep it between us. Can’t have people thinking I care.” He winks at me and I fall in step beside him.
“Today was my first time volunteering here, and wow, I am crazy impressed with how much you’ve been able to accomplish with this institution. It’s incredible and so inspiring.”
“Well, thank you. I appreciate that and I sincerely appreciate your time. We always need more volunteers. I try to come every week, more if I can. I’m usually here on Sundays if I’m not traveling for work and even if I can pop in for an hour midweek, I do. I think it helps for people to see the face with the name. Not because it makes me feel better, but because I want them to know I actually give a shit rather than just writing a check.”
I smile at him as we descend the stairs. If I thought this man couldn’t get any sexier, I was wrong. A hot, successful man who not only donates millions but also his time for mothers and children in need? I almost say it out loud, but I remember our talk and keep it to myself.
“Wow, it’s such an incredible day out.” I shield my eyes from the sun and look up at the cloudless sky. The breeze from the lake and severe drop in humidity results in the perfect temperature. “Nice to finally have a break from the oppressive heat.”
“Want to walk by the lake?” he asks, surprising me.
“Yeah. Tell me more about why you started the Archer Foundation. I read up on it, but I’d love to hear it from you, if that’s okay?”
“Yeah, of course. I was raised by a single mom, something I know you can understand,” he says cautiously and I nod. “My dad left when I was maybe four; I don’t really remember him. I think I have these memories that resurface, but I’m not sure if they’re mine or based on a photo my mom showed me of him and I doing something when I was a kid. Anyway, she struggled every damn day to not only put food on the table but just to provide basic needs for me. School supplies aren’t cheap, and neither are clothes when you go from being just over three foot tall to five foot in a summer.” He laughs.
“Damn, guess that explains the six-five stature.”
“You know my height?” He looks over his shoulder at me and I blush. A biker whizzes by us and he reaches his hand out to grab my waist, pulling me on the other side of him to protect me. He keeps talking, completely unaware of how sexy that little gesture was or the effect it’s having on me.
“I wanted to play Little League when I was a kid. I had a good arm and I was athletic, but she couldn’t afford the uniform and fees so I never got the chance. Things like that really ate at her, made her feel like a failure as a mom. She’d compare herself to some of the other moms and she just never felt like she was doing enough. If she worked longer hours to make more money so I could do sports, she lost time with me and someone else was raising me. She felt like it was a lose-lose situation so I vowed that when I made enough money to start this foundation, I’d make sure we provided help to moms, and now dads as well, who needed it. We started out focusing on single moms, but there’s a need for single dads, families, all of it. Our mission and goal is to make sure no kid goes without.”
I wipe away a stray tear. “That is beyond wonderful. I was raised by a single mom but I didn’t struggle like that. My dad paid alimony and child support and my mom had a career that paid enough. We weren’t rich by any stretch and I know my mom went without some nicer things that she could have afforded but chose not to so that I could take piano lessons or go on field trips. I have such a soft spot for children and parents in need so what you’re doing is beyond amazing.”
“Your dad told me your mom liked to volunteer and was very charitable. He said she passed that on to you.”
“Yeah, she did. Now Jonas on the other hand?” I laugh. “My dad doesn’t exactly get it. He’s gotten a lot better, I think. I know he donates, but what billionaire doesn’t to get those tax write-offs?”
“I think you’re right; he has come a long way. He’s not that same man he was.”
I look over at Beckham and I can see that he wants to talk more about my dad, about the man he’s become, but it’s not a conversation I’m ready to have.
“I went on some dates.” I smile, changing the subject.
“Dates—plural? With the same guy?” His tone changes, his brow furrowing with the question as he nervously runs his hands through his hair again.
“No, three different guys actually. There will be no second dates with any of them.”
“That bad, huh?”
I groan, my head falling back. “You have no idea.”
“Then tell me.” He playfully bumps his elbow against me.
“One guy called me bro the entire date.”
“A grown man called you bro? On a date?”
“Yeah. He’s twenty-eight. And no, before you ask, he doesn’t live at home. He has advanced degrees, a good job, all of those things we’re told to look for in a partner, but he was buried in his phone the entire date. If you can even call it a date because halfway through my drink when the bartender asked if we wanted another round, he told her no because we were going back to his place.”
He looks over at me and I’m not sure what he’s trying to convey. He looks curious but also pissed.
“No,” I say as I narrow my eyes at him, “I did not go home with him.”
