Olivier (Chicago Blaze #9) Read Online Brenda Rothert

Categories Genre: Billionaire, Contemporary, Romance, Sports Tags Authors: Series: Chicago Blaze Series by Brenda Rothert
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Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 53233 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 266(@200wpm)___ 213(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
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I groan. That’s what he calls Ray. I left two pairs of socks and a candy bar in his tent when I was delivering supplies last week.

“I’ll be right out,” I tell Ty.

“You want me to stay with you?”

Ty always offers to be close by when Ray comes in to see me, because Ray does and says inappropriate things. I had to learn to assert myself with him early on.

“No, I’m good, but thanks,” I say.

Nina gives me a look as she walks out of my office, saying, “We’re not done talking about the French hottie.”

We are done, but I don’t say so. Olivier not returning my text told me everything I need to know about him. He had lost interest in me by the end of the day he sent the flowers. When Aiden admitted to cheating on me, he told me he met a waitress at a restaurant one day and screwed her that very night. That’s how long it takes to lose a man’s attention. Been there, done that.

“Hi Ray,” I say as I walk into the Safe Harbor lobby.

“Daphne!” he cries, opening his arms.

He’s a small man without teeth or hair. Looks like a sweet little grandpa, until you get within two feet of him.

“Ray,” I say, putting a hand out in front of me. “You only get to hug me if your hands stay on my back and your mouth doesn’t touch any part of me.”

“Aw, come on! Gimme some sugar!”

He comes toward me, and I dart behind the front desk, moving the wheeled chair to block his access to me.

“I mean it. You can’t grab me inappropriately, Ray,” I say firmly. “If you do, you won’t be allowed in here anymore.”

“I just wanted a hug.”

He’s filthy. I can smell him from ten feet away, and his face and neck are caked with dirt. I remind myself he’s mentally ill and doesn’t process things the same way others do.

“If I give you a hug, will you go take a shower?” I ask. “I can get you some soap and a towel, and I can wash your clothes while you’re in there.”

He thinks about it, then gives me a toothless grin. “Yeah, I can take a shower.”

I walk around the desk and give him a hug, breathing through my mouth.

“Thanks for the candy bar and socks,” he says. “I want to marry you.”

“You’re very welcome. Are you staying at a shelter? It’s been really cold at night.”

He shrugs. “I like my tent.”

“Well come on, then. Let’s get you a hot shower.”

“You should wash my back.”

I lead him to the back of the building, where we have three separate bathrooms, each with a sink, toilet and shower stall.

“You’ll have to handle that yourself,” I tell Ray.

“You’re beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

I open a closet and take out a towel, bar of soap, clean sweatsuit, socks and underwear for Ray. I know all his sizes—we do this about once a month. I’m certain those monthly showers are the only ones he gets.

“Now remember, Ray, when you’re finished, you have to dry off, get dressed in these clothes, and put your used towel and dirty clothes in the metal bin right over there.” I point at it to remind him.

“I got it,” he says, starting to strip off his shirt already.

As I duck my head and leave the room as quickly as I can, he calls out, “You’ll be here when I’m done?”

“Yes, I’ll still be here.”

“Okay, hot stuff.”

I laugh to myself as I walk back to my office. Ray drives me crazy sometimes, but he can be very sweet. His family has no interest in helping him. I don’t know how anyone can look at a human being who needs things as basic as food and clean clothes and turn their back.

When I sit down behind my desk, I grab the collar of my shirt and bring it up to my nose to sniff it. I can’t tell if I smell like Ray, but I definitely feel like I need a shower now.

One of the first lessons Ty gave me when I started this job was that if you’re disgusted by people, you can’t empathize with them. You have to let go of thinking about yourself sometimes and think about what the person you’re helping needs. We don’t judge at Safe Harbor. That’s why we’re able to hand out clean needles to drug addicts. By meeting people where they’re at instead of where we think they should be, we can help them. And if and when they get ready for rehab, a job or housing, we’re there to support that, too.

I open my email and see that nothing new came in when I was gone. I grab my cell phone and see that I have two new texts. One is from my sister.


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