“I thought you said you weren’t close?”
Ana smiled wryly. “We aren’t. That hasn’t kept the family grapevine quiet.”
“Do you think that’s why she didn’t come into Hannah’s Hope herself?” he prodded.
Ana shot him a surprised look. “I don’t know. Maybe. She doesn’t like me.” She blew out a frustrated breath. “But she also has a butt-load of pride. That could be it, too.” And then she laughed, looking around the yard. “She’s not the only one. Half the people here work for Worth Industries in one way or the other. They’re all scared about the future. No one knows what it means that so many of the uppity-ups from Worth Industries are leaving. But none of them want to admit that they need help.”
Abruptly, she set her plate aside, leaving much of her food untouched, and turned to face him more fully. “This is why what we’re doing at Hannah’s Hope is so important. You see that, don’t you?”
“I saw that before,” he countered, annoyance creeping into his voice. “I just wonder if you see it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’m talking about your job at Hannah’s Hope.” His tone was serious. Harsher than his normal gravelly charm. “You’re burying yourself under paperwork because you’re afraid of getting out in the community and actually dealing with people.”
“That is ridiculous,” she protested. Standing abruptly, she crossed to the trash can by the back door and dumped her plate in.
He followed a few steps behind, dumped his own plate and then followed her in to the now deserted kitchen. Everyone else was out in the back, enjoying the food, which left them alone in the tiny, homey kitchen.
“So ridiculous that you storm off in response?” he prodded.
She stopped and spun to face him, then poked a finger in the direction of his chest. “Don’t you dare tell me I’m not doing my job.”
“The administrative crap is only half of running Hannah’s Hope. That’s the easy part. The hard part is getting volunteers to commit their time and energy to making it work. And the really hard part is reaching out to people and getting them to accept help.”
His words stung and she turned away from him, busying herself collecting the many bowls and utensils that had been left scattered over the counter once the food was prepared. “You think I don’t know how hard that’s going to be?” She dropped the biggest of the bowls in the sink basin and turned on the water to fill it. “You think I don’t know a thing or two about the stubborn pride that goes along with poverty and lack of education?” She grabbed the bottle of dish soap and gave it a vicious squirt. “Because I do. I know all about that. I grew up among these people. I know precisely how hard it’s going to be to get them to accept help.”
“Is that why you haven’t been talking up Hannah’s Hope to the people here today?”
“I—” Her mouth gaped open as she struggled to find a fitting response. Finally, she snapped her mouth closed, then said through clenched teeth, “You’re right.” She grabbed a deadly looking butcher knife and dropped it into the bowl of sudsy water. “I haven’t been talking about Hannah’s Hope. But this is my family. And it’s difficult and—”
“And that’s why you haven’t gone over to talk to Lena? Even though you know she’s a perfect candidate for Hannah’s Hope? Because it’s difficult?”
She added more dishes—a few more bowls and some spatulas—to the growing tower of dirty dishes. “That’s not fair.”
“But somehow it is fair that you’re ignoring her needs because they make you uncomfortable?”
Even though she didn’t so much as glance in his direction, she was painfully aware of the intensity of his gaze.
“But maybe you think she really isn’t a good candidate,” he added, his tone glib as he turned away from her to prop his h*ps against the counter perpendicular to the sink.
Ana snatched up a cutting board and wedged it behind the tower of bowls, but she didn’t leap to Lena’s defense.
“Maybe you think she’s screwed up everything in her life so far,” he continued. “How could she possibly handle all the extra work it would take to actually commit to getting her GED?”
She slammed down the final bowl. The tower of dirty dishes crashed into the sink, splattering water, bubbles and bits of food across the counter and her shirt. “Don’t you judge her! You have no idea what it’s like being a poor Latina woman in this country.”
Ward gave a humorless laugh, finally turning to face her again. “Yeah, well, I suspect you have no idea what that’s like, either.”
She gasped, shock at his words making her light-headed. “I can’t believe you just said that.”
Instantly, his gaze softened. “It’s what you believe, isn’t it? That you’re different. That you can’t relate to their struggles.” For a long moment he just looked at her as if taking in every emotion flickering across her face. As if he saw everything she desperately wanted to hide, but somehow couldn’t. Finally, he shook his head. His eyes were sad, his tone gentle. “I don’t believe it,” he said slowly. “But it’s pretty obvious to me that you do. Otherwise, you would have laughed it off. Or more likely, you would have socked me in the jaw.”
She pressed her lips in a compact line, blinking back tears that she refused to let him see. “So what was that? Some kind of test?”
“No. I was making a point.”
“Why would you say that to me? What kind of point would be so important you’d have to—”
But she broke off. If she wasn’t going to cry in front of him, then she damn well wasn’t going to tell him point-blank that he’d just skewered her emotionally.
Just when she least expected his tenderness—when she least wanted it—he gently cupped her chin and tilted it up, forcing her to meet his gaze.
“I said those things because I had to.” His tone was gentle. As sincere as she’d ever heard it. “You have it in you to be an incredible nonprofit director. But you have to get over your fear that the community will reject you if you reach out to them. You can do amazing things for Hannah’s Hope, but I won’t always be here to push you.”
His words sucked the air right out of her lungs. Actually, suffocating couldn’t have hurt more.
There it was. He’d all but announced his intention of leaving her. Now that they’d had sex, he was no longer interested in her. He was being as polite as he could about it, but it still hurt.
She’d known their relationship wouldn’t last forever. Known she’d never live up to Cara’s memory. But she’d never dreamed him leaving her would feel like this.
She pulled her gaze away from his. Focused her eyes on an obscenely cheerful blue-and-yellow tile behind him.
“Well, then,” she said. “I guess you have me all figured out. It’s good to know that your duties as a board member extend to psychoanalyzing the employees.”
“I didn’t say that as a board member.”
“Yeah, I knew that.” She forced herself to look him in the eye again. She wanted him to know that she’d gotten the message. He hadn’t said it as a board member, but as her boyfriend.
Or rather, not her boyfriend. But the guy she’d slept with the previous night. What was it he’d said a moment ago? He wanted to say this now because he wasn’t always going to be around to push her. Yeah. She got that. Good thing she hadn’t expected him to be around forever.
She just hadn’t expected the breakup to hurt this badly.
It was obvious from Ana’s expression that she didn’t want him touching her at all. Probably ever again.
“Okay, then,” she announced roughly. “As long as we’re putting it all out on the table and being completely honest, as long as we’re talking about what would be best for Hannah’s Hope, I don’t really think you’re stepping up and doing your part, either.”
He had not seen that coming. He’d heard the pain in her voice, but he still hadn’t expected her to lash out. “How’s that?”
“What about Rafe?” she asked sternly.
Her words were so unexpected, it took a second for them to register. “What about Rafe?”
She gave a shrug that was part false confidence, and part pure, ballsy anger. “You’re his friend. You can talk to him. Influence him.”
“Whatever influence you think I have over him,” he said slowly, “it doesn’t extend to business decisions. If he’s thinking of closing the factory, there’s not much I can do about that.”
“I’m not talking about the factory.” The water she’d been running in the sink had nearly reached the edge and she reached over to turn it off with a jerk of the handle. “I’m talking about his involvement with Hannah’s Hope. Or rather his complete lack of involvement.”
He stepped away from her, once again propping his h*ps against the counter. He kept his tone carefully blank. “What exactly do you expect me to do?”
She picked up one of those long-handled scrubbers that people used to wash their dishes. But instead of using it, she gestured with it. “For starters you can talk him into coming to the street fair on Saturday. No matter how many times I’ve called him, I can’t get him to commit to being there. But the people of this town need reassurances that only he can give them. They need to know that even if he dismantles Worth Industries and sells it off bit by bit, he’s still committed to Hannah’s Hope.”
“And you think him showing up at the festival will do that? You think it will magically convince everyone he’s a great guy?”
“I’m not suggesting he come to make balloon animals and eat cotton candy. He should say a few words.”