He was, however, starting to wonder about where they would go from here. Because when he thought about not having her in his life...
Well, honestly, he didn't think about it. Because he simply didn't like the concept of that reality.
Her fingers trailed over his chest, tracing patterns down to his abs. "You're thinking too loud," she said. "Wanna share?"
"I was wondering if you want to come to the benefit tonight," he said, the idea springing into his mind. "It's for literacy, and it's at the landfill."
She sat up, completely oblivious to the way the sheet fell off of her. "Excuse me?"
"Texas Disposal Systems maintains an exotic ranch right next to the landfill. It's their way of giving back. It's not open to the public, but they rent the Pavillion out for events."
"That's completely cool. And I could see the animals?"
"Absolutely."
"But are you sure I can go? I mean, as your date?"
Regret stabbed through him. "Probably not. But I have an extra ticket. And you can be one of the guests. Someone I have to schmooze for later votes."
She laughed, then moved to straddle him. "I don't know. You schmoozed me pretty good already. I have no more votes to give."
He cupped her ass. "Right now, neither do I. But later I hope for a lot more schmoozing."
"Deal." She slid off him, then rolled off the bed. "I need to take a shower and get out of here. When is this thing?"
He sat up, more disturbed than he should be that she was leaving. Hell, he'd practically ordered her here last night without even thinking to ask if she had other plans. "Seven," he said. "You can't stay for breakfast?"
"I was going to grab a coffee and a donut on the way." She tilted her head. "Do you want to join me?"
"It's not even nine on a Saturday. Where are you going?" he asked, but she just smiled.
"Why don't we start in the shower, and you'll learn the rest when we get there?"
There turned out to be San Gabriel Park in Georgetown, a town about thirty minutes outside of Austin, where dozens of children under the age of thirteen were running from bouncy houses to craft stations to makeshift photo booths.
"What is this?" Easton asked as they walked from the car to the mass of kids.
"I work with an organization that takes foster kids out on excursions. Some foster parents can't afford to do much of that or are just overwhelmed. This gives the kids some interaction and the parents can come, too, if it works for them."
He glanced sideways at her. "That sounds like a great cause."
She shrugged. "There's a need."
They'd reached a small cluster of adults, so he didn't ask her about the tightness in her tone of voice. Instead, he accepted an assignment to go play catch with a group of young boys while Selma set up at a face-painting station and started to decorate a very long line of little girls.
By the end of an hour, Easton was exhausted, and begged the boys to stop for a bit. Instead of catch, he took them down to the river's edge. A few of the kids and chaperones were already there with stale bread for the ducks, many of which were so tame they ate right out of the kids' hands.
"You're really a lawyer?" A tall boy of eleven who'd told Easton he was Alfonse stood with his hands on his hips as he focused on Easton's face.
"I am."
"That's what I'm going to do, too. My dad beat up my mom. He's in jail and she can't take care of me anymore. I'm gonna be a prosecutor."
Easton's gut twisted with the kid's words, but he tried not to show it. But dear God, he'd thought his childhood with his parents' legal and financial problems had been rough? Talk about foolish. "I think you'll make a great prosecutor. You know what justice is and you've seen what prosecutors are fighting for."
The kid grinned, as if Easton had just anointed him as a district attorney right then.
"Yeah. My dad's a prick. But Gary's okay."