This was that moment for her.
Looking up at him, she said, “It’s nice to meet you, Julian.” A last name would have been nice, but for now she’d take what she could get.
He nodded. “So…are you going back to eat by the coffee shop?”
“Well, I normally sit and enjoy my coffee while watching the waves crash, but…”
Another nod. “Sorry I ruined that for you. You should go back and do that. I…” He paused and Charlotte got the impression he wanted to say more but didn’t know how.
Unable to help herself, she was instantly in social-worker mode. Touching his arm gently, she shifted so she was facing him. “If you’d like to join me, that would be okay.”
It was clearly the wrong thing to say, because he stiffened and the snarl was back.
“Or not,” she quickly added and stepped away. And without another glance at him, she turned and walked back to the bench. She primly sat down and took a sip of her coffee before pulling out her muffin and taking a huge bite.
Normally, she would pick at such a large item, but she was annoyed and frustrated and just… Gah! Why did people have to be so distrusting? It was just a friendly gesture; why was she being punished for it?
Her jaw almost hurt from chewing so hard and fast and when she finally swallowed, she had to force herself to take several deep breaths—to let herself simply inhale the sea air that she loved so much—and relax. Closing her eyes, she let her head fall back and willed some of the tension to leave her body.
When she straightened and took another sip of her coffee, she felt more like herself. Overhead the seagulls flew and made their noises, in front of her people walked and talked and laughed, and in the background were the waves—the glorious sound of the waves, which never ceased to calm her.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Julian slowly walking toward her. A few minutes ago, this would have pleased her, but right now she wanted to tell him to go away. And she totally could—he wasn’t one of her clients. She didn’t owe him anything. As a matter of fact, he owed her. And when he went to sit down beside her, she held up a hand to stop him.
“There are, like, a hundred other places for you to go and sit,” she said curtly. “And I would appreciate it if you would.”
He was a big man—easily over six feet tall—and with his broad chest and muscled arms, he could have been some sort of linebacker. Add the scowl into the mix and he was beyond intimidating. Standing at only five-six herself, she knew better than to get up and try to intimidate him into moving away.
But she was tempted.
“Can we just…start over?” he asked.
Now? Now he wanted to start over?
“Please,” he added, and that was when he had her. She was a sucker for someone who seemed to know when they were wrong and tried to make amends. Everyone deserved a second chance and Julian was no different. Without a word, she motioned to the space beside her, but immediately went back to her meal—opting to pick at the muffin this time rather than biting into it again.
They sat in silence for a solid five minutes as they each ate and sipped at their coffees. She heard him groan with appreciation several times, and she had to wonder if it had been a while since he’d had a decent meal. So many questions sprang to mind—things she asked all of her applicants—but she was afraid to voice any of them and risk upsetting him again.
Beside her, Julian put the muffin wrappers back into the bag they’d come in and gulped down the rest of his coffee. Charlotte figured he was done and would get up and leave and that would be the end of it.
“Thank you for breakfast,” he said quietly, looking at the waves, just as she’d been doing.
“You’re welcome.”
“I’ll pay you back if you want. I don’t live far from here.”
That was surprising. They were in Malibu—one of the nicest communities on the coast—and he lived here? Looking like this?
Stop judging! she admonished herself.
“It’s fine. Really,” she said. “We’ve been over this.”
Silence.
Deciding to let herself admire the view for a few more minutes, she finished up her muffin and placed the wrapper and napkin back in the bag, and then slowly sipped her coffee.
Unfortunately, her mind wouldn’t shut up and she couldn’t help but start talking again.
“You looked like you needed it,” she said and glanced over at him. “I could tell you were annoyed at the long wait and you look tired and…I don’t know. It just seemed like it was one of those situations where it was kind of a big deal to have to cancel your order.”
And for the first time, she caught a hint of a smile on Julian’s face.
Aha! she thought.
“Let’s just say it was par for the course,” he said after a minute.
I knew it.
“Sometimes it certainly feels like that,” she agreed. “And it’s usually the little things that can set you off, like not getting your morning cup of coffee.”
“You have no idea.”
“But I do!” she replied earnestly. “I deal with this sort of thing all the time.”
“You often miss your morning cup of coffee and want to snap?” he asked with a small grin.
She laughed. “No, but I work with people who feel like everything is working against them and just need a little help to get back on their feet.”
He looked at her oddly.
“I’m a vocational rehabilitation counselor.”
“Um…I have no idea what that is,” he said flatly.
“I help people find jobs—homeless people, some who have just gotten out of rehab or prison—that sort of thing.” She paused. “When I meet them, they’re all overwhelmed and feeling like they don’t know what to do or where to begin, and sometimes it’s the little things that throw them off the ledge, if you know what I mean.”
Nodding, Julian studied her for a long moment. “That sounds like it can be a challenge. Do you always find these people jobs?”
“Usually I do. They’re not always permanent jobs, but I get them working. That gives them the confidence they need to rejoin society. Having a job is so important—not just for financial reasons but for our self-esteem and mental well-being too.”
He shrugged. “Maybe. But jobs aren’t always the answer.”
“For the people I work with, they are,” she countered. “When someone needs to put a roof over their head or feed their family, a job is always the answer.”
He didn’t look convinced.
“Do you have a job, Julian?” she asked.
There was a flash of something in his eyes, but it was gone before Charlotte could begin to analyze it. “I’m in between jobs right now,” he said stiffly.
She knew there was a reason she was drawn to him. He needed help and he was too proud to ask for it. It was as if she was divinely put in his path today!
“There’s no shame in that,” she said compassionately, reaching out and touching his arm again. They were nice arms—sculpted and tanned and…strong. Immediately she forced herself not to focus on that, because as attractive as Julian was, she wasn’t going to help him by flirting with him. That wasn’t what he needed. What he needed was someone who could help him find work and get his life back on track. “I meet people in the same situation all the time. If you’re interested, I’m working with a group later this afternoon. We’ll be going over job listings and talking about how to apply for specific types of jobs, and then we’ll be doing some brief training.”
“What kind of training?”
“Today we’re working over at the homeless shelter in Santa Monica. We’ll be helping unload trucks for the food kitchen, and it’s mostly manual labor and cleaning. But it’s an honest day’s work and will leave you with a sense of accomplishment.”
Julia
n looked at her as if she were crazy. “You’re asking me if I want to work at a homeless shelter?”
Nodding, Charlotte explained, “And I can help you look for jobs in your area of expertise. What is it you used to do…you know…before you got laid off?”
His eyes went wide. “Who said I got laid off?” he asked defensively.
“Well, you said you were between jobs. I just assumed…” And then she stopped. “Sorry. That was wrong of me. I don’t know why it is that you’re between jobs.” And then she waited for an explanation that never came.
“Santa Monica’s about twenty miles from here,” he said finally.
“We offer a shuttle if you need it, or I can give you bus fare. If you really want to go, that is.”
Those gray eyes were still wide. “Now you’re offering me bus fare?”
Charlotte couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh… I guess after seeing how you reacted to the coffee and muffins, I should know better, right?”
Luckily, Julian laughed with her. “You would think.”
“Well, I’ll tell you what,” she began and reached into her purse and pulled out a pen and a business card. Writing down the address, she handed it to him. “This is where I’ll be today at four. If you’d like to come and join us, great. If not, that’s fine too. On the front is my business number, and if you would like help with your job search, please feel free to call.”
Standing, she finished the last of her coffee and felt much better about how the morning had gone. Turning toward Julian, she smiled. “I need to get going. I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot, but I’m glad we met.” Reaching out her hand to him, she added, “It was nice meeting you, Julian, and I wish you luck with finding a job. If there’s anything I can do to help…”
Just then he stood and took her hand in his and—holy crap.
His hand was huge and warm and it completely wrapped around hers. Charlotte knew she wasn’t a particularly petite woman, but this man certainly made her feel that way.
“Um…” she stammered and tried to pull her hand gently from his. “Maybe I’ll see you later today.”
Julian didn’t release her right away and when he did, her fingers grazed his palm; his skin was rough. She had to wonder what it was he used to do for a living.
Liar. You’re curious how that rough skin would feel on other parts of your body.
Okay…maybe.
He didn’t respond other than to say, “It was nice meeting you, Charlotte,” and then he turned and walked down toward the beach. Part of her wanted to follow him and see where he went. He certainly wasn’t dressed for the beach—not that there was a required wardrobe or anything—but she was still curious about what his story was.
Walking over to a trash can, she tossed her cup and bag and walked closer to the steps leading down to the sand to watch him for a little longer. He was heading down toward the more residential side of the beach. She looked down and sighed at the sight of the houses. They were magnificent but frivolous, she thought. All that money could go to so many other things—things that would help the less fortunate.
Then again, wouldn’t she love to wake up to the sound of the waves every day if she could? The answer was a very enthusiastic “Hell yes!” So really, who was she to judge? For all she knew, the owners of those houses donated to charity and did volunteer work in their spare time. Just because she couldn’t personally afford to live in that kind of luxury didn’t mean she should begrudge those who could.
With her eyes still down on the sand and watching Julian in her peripheral vision, she gasped when he stopped and turned around and seemed to look right at her. It wasn’t really possible to tell from this distance, but she could almost swear he was smirking—as if he knew she’d still be standing there watching him. While it would have been easy to pretend she hadn’t seen him and turn and walk away, she couldn’t make herself move.
And when he started walking back toward her, she knew she definitely couldn’t walk away. Had he changed his mind about the bus fare? Did he have a question about accepting her help in finding work?
When he came off the last step, they were about ten feet apart. Julian looked at her with amusement—she knew it!—and said, “I thought you said you had to go?”
“I…I do,” she said nervously. “But I was just enjoying the view.”
He quirked a dark brow at her and she realized how that sounded—especially since she had been watching him.
“I mean… I was just about to leave when I saw you heading back this way. Did you need something?”
Stepping closer, he said, “I guess I wanted to know more about what you do.”
Relief washed over her. He wanted her help. He trusted her.
She’d only said she had to leave earlier because she didn’t want to push or overwhelm him. There were still many hours until she had to leave for work.
“What would you like to know?”
With the serious look she was coming to associate with him, he considered her for a moment. “Would you like to walk on the beach while we talk?”
Ooo…walking with her toes in the sand was her second-favorite thing to do, after listening to the sound of the waves. Not wanting to sound too giddy, she shrugged. “Sure. That sounds fine.” This was just like one of her interviews, except it was the first time she was conducting one while doing one of her favorite things.
It felt odd and yet…right.
Julian motioned toward the steps and they climbed down. At the bottom, Charlotte slipped off her sandals and stepped into the sand.
“Mmm…”
Her hand almost flew over her mouth when she realized she’d made the sound. How professional of it was her to be making noises like that?
Beside her, Julian smirked. “Like the feel of the sand between your toes, huh?”
Laughing softly, she said, “Guilty.”
They began to walk and Julian spoke first. “So, how does one become a vocational rehabilitation counselor?”
Okay, that wasn’t what she expected, but she was more than willing to talk to him about it if it meant he was going to trust her.
“I started out as a social worker,” she began. “Actually, I went to school to be a psychologist and ended up in social work. So many of the people I met had the same issues—their lives would just seem better or would get better if they had a job. Now, there are employment agencies out there and that’s all fine and well, but it’s not always as simple as ‘You’re hired,’ you know?”
Julian nodded.
“I just have a passion for this sort of thing. When I was growing up, my father got laid off and it took him years to find work. We struggled and had to go on public assistance, and I watched my once-confident father transform into this meek and almost pitiful person. His self-esteem was gone, and he went from making a decent living and supporting his family to doing menial labor and feeling ashamed. I don’t want to see that happen to someone. There should never be any shame or guilt for working to support your family. Every job is an honest job.”
“Well, that’s not entirely true,” he argued lightly. “There are some pretty shady job choices out there.”
“True, but I’d like to think that with the right support network in place, people have the opportunity to avoid having to make those choices.”
They strolled at a leisurely pace, and Charlotte knew she had to wait Julian out. If he was going to share anything about himself, it would be when he was ready. She went for idle conversation—the weather, the number of people on the beach, that sort of thing. As they got closer to a cluster of houses, she couldn’t help but sigh.
“Something wrong?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Not really. It’s just…” She motioned to the houses. “Look at them. I mean, I can only imagine the cost to live in someplace as magnificent as that—and these aren’t even the
really exclusive ones.”
“Really exclusive?”
“You know, the ones with private beaches that cost probably ten million dollars and you’re not allowed to look at them because you’re not rich enough,” she said with a laugh.
Beside her, Julian laughed too. “Somehow I don’t think it’s quite like that.”
“Probably not, but you know what I mean. It doesn’t seem possible that people actually live like that.” She paused before adding, “Why do they get the best views of the beach when us mere mortals can’t?”
When Julian didn’t respond, she figured he probably felt the same way too, but it wasn’t something that was of any real concern to him.
“So, what about you?” she finally asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.
“What about me?” he asked slowly, quietly.
“What is it you used to do before you found yourself between jobs?”
Silence.
They kept walking, but Julian looked straight ahead without uttering a word. Okay, message received; he wasn’t ready to talk about it yet.
Up ahead Charlotte spotted a sandcastle someone had obviously put a lot of time and effort into before having to leave it. “Ooo…look at that,” she said in awe. It stood about three feet high and had a lot of details—although some of it had collapsed since its completion. “I’ve always wondered how people can do this. It takes such skill and patience.” She looked over her shoulder at him and smiled. “Something I certainly lack at times.”
“I would imagine patience is an important part of your job,” Julian commented.
“That part, yes. I kind of have the patience of a saint. At least, that’s what my parents tell me,” she said lightly. “I’m not artistic at all. I am an analytical thinker. I like solving problems. But to create something with my hands? Totally not my thing.”
“Have you ever tried?”
This time her laugh was loud and hearty. “More than you know! Oh my goodness…I’ve tried pottery, painting, quilting, knitting—both of my grandmothers were fantastic knitters and they tried for most of my life to teach me—but I’m not coordinated enough for it. Or anything like it, apparently.”
One More Moment Page 3
