Apple Pie Angel by Lynn Cooper Page B

It was her fault. Lacey Burke. He had been fine until he saw her behind the counter at the soup kitchen.  Chance had heard Eva introduce her to the other servers. She wasn’t like them.  They were dressed in designer clothes and never made eye contact.  They were there to collect bragging rights.  To rack up points for volunteer activities.  To them, homeless people were just another checkbox on their resumé.  But Lacey—just as pretty as her name— was warm and friendly.  Her smile lit up the darkest recesses of his mind.  Her big brown eyes grabbed his gaze and held it until he had to look away from embarrassment.  Their soft, liquid beauty overwhelmed him, rendering him breathless.  Every day she wore a bright-colored, fluffy sweater and faded Levis.  He knew instinctively this sexy, voluptuous brunette was the real deal. 
    He loved how her curves went on for miles.  Chance’s sister would have labeled Lacey a plus-size woman.  To him, she was perfect.  When he closed his eyes at night, he had visions of resting his weary head against her bountiful breasts.  When he allowed himself a daydream, he imagined spooning her with that ample bottom pressed against his groin.  Lying next to her, he would never feel cold, ever again.
    Taking a deep breath, Chance vowed to rein in his tumultuous emotions.  To put Lacey out of his mind.  His moodiness was born out of missing her.  She vanished from Eva’s Soup Kitchen just as quickly as she had appeared.  He had gone back every day for the last week, but she wasn’t there.  He was determined to downplay the effect she had on him.  To tamp down the tiny seeds of hope that had begun to sprout through the hard, fallow ground of his heart. But he had failed miserably.  Nothing new; he was really good at failing. 
    From this moment forward, he would have to put her out of his mind and make more of an effort to be amiable and approachable to his fellow street urchins.  Since his first day under the trestle, Loopy had latched onto Chance, making him feel somewhat responsible for the young man.  They had formed a mutual bond of friendship.  It wasn’t fair for Chance to take his frustrations out on anyone other than himself.  He had made his lonely, concrete bed now he would have to lie on it. 
     
    LACEY PARKED ABOUT FIFTY feet from the trestle and killed the headlights.  She didn’t want to startle anyone, especially if they were sleeping.  She had meant to get an earlier start.  Although she felt no fear about being out at night, she did feel uneasy in this particular part of town.  From the faint glow of several broken street lamps, she could see the silhouettes of the surrounding rundown buildings.  The brick and wood alike was dark with soot.  Closer in, she saw wisps of smoke wafting into the night air from fires that had been lit inside huge metal barrels. 
    Inhaling too deeply made her cough.  There was no telling what manner of toxic material they were burning to stay warm.  Carefully carrying the box of pies, she slowed her pace to take in the graffiti-covered walls.  There were lewd curses, obscene images and symbols that were most likely painted by gang members.  She didn’t dare try to decipher their meaning. 
    Garbage littered the cracked asphalt.  She swallowed hard against the foul odors filling the night air, not the least of which was urine.  What had she expected?  Certainly not the Biltmore House. But seeing these poor, homeless people at the soup kitchen was a whole lot different than seeing them on their own turf.  Just as she reached the trestle’s opening, she felt dizzy.  She wasn’t used to these intense smells, and a sudden onset of nerves was making her weak in the knees.  The hair on her neck prickled.  Turning her ankle, she stumbled into a solid wall of muscle that reached out and caught her in a steely grip.
    Lacey couldn’t make out his features as his face was as black as the night.  When his