Humming to “White Christmas” Lisa Sassoon tossed another piece of tinsel to her friend Charlotte who was precariously balanced on a ladder. “Please don’t fall and break your leg, it’s the holidays.”

Charlotte laughed her concerns away with a toss of her hand as she taped the Christmas decorations to the wall, making the soup kitchen festive.

A mobile phone rang out and Lisa recognised the song, “Working Class Man” her friend used for her boss in respect of his dedication and high work ethics. She walked over to the table, lifted the mobile phone, and stifled a giggle when she looked at the Caller ID. Her friend had snapped a picture of her boss at his crankiest and used that photo of him. “Hello, Gabe, this is Charlotte’s friend, Lisa.”

“I need Charlotte, now.” A deep, male voice snapped at her.

Well, joy and happiness to you, Mr Grumble-Bum. Taking a deep breath she replied, “She’s on a ladder.” It was a Sunday and Charlotte was donating her time to help others so Mr Grumble-Bum could wait.

“I need her now,” he said in a decisive tone that made Lisa wonder how her best friend could bear working for such a difficult man. Obviously, the scowling face was a regular feature at the office.

“I’ll take a message,” she replied in a saccharin sweet tone.

“She needs to download the Barton file and…forget it.” The voice on the other end of the phone turned to a loud exasperated sigh. “Where are you? I’m coming over.”

Lisa placed the phone against her hip and called out to her friend. “Your boss is calling you on a Sunday and needs help with the Barton file. Shall I tell him where you are?”

Charlotte nodded before returning her attention to the Christmas decorations that needed to be completed before the lunchtime rush.

“We’re at the Helping Hand Café, it’s on Bowery Road,” she informed him.

“I’ll be there soon.” He disconnected the phone.

Lisa pocketed the mobile phone before calling out to her friend again. “Is he always this cranky?” She massaged the back of her neck.

“No, it must be you,” her friend said before flicking her hair over her shoulder.

Thirty minutes later, Lisa was standing in her favourite part of the centre making coffee when a man walked in. Not a regular but a hottie in jeans, woollen jumper, and leather jacket. He removed the beanie he’d been wearing, shoving it into his pocket and strode purposefully to where her friend was.

Gabe Olivari.

There was no menacing scowl on his face, but Lisa could see determination and need clearly defined across the sharp angles of his cheekbones and square-cut jaw.

The air in her lungs whooshed out as she took in the impressive height, broad shoulders, and strong legs of her friend’s manager. Phew! She could barely look at him without blushing.

Returning her attention to the coffee machine, she finished the cappuccino she’d made before discreetly watching the interactions between Charlotte and Gabe. Within two minutes, everything had been fixed and a sincere smile stretched across his face making him appear even more handsome.

Gabe walked toward her and she meticulously wiped down the clean bench, needing some distraction. Hopefully, he’d leave and the silly flutters of desire in her tummy would stop. Unbelievable that he could make her, a sensible twenty-eight-year-old, respond in such a way.

Instead of heading toward the door he stopped in front of her. “You’re Charlotte’s friend? Lisa?”

Resisting the urge to flutter her eyelashes as she looked into the dark brown depths of his eyes, she replied simply, “Yes.”

“I’ve heard you make an excellent coffee. Would you mind making me a long black?”

“Sure,” she said with enthusiasm. “But you’ll need to make a donation.” She candidly pointed to the jar she kept near the espresso machine. The free coffees were for the homeless, everyone else had to pay.

After grinding the beans, she got to work making good coffee as she’d been doing for over ten years. She was a darn fine barista, which explained why so many city workers popped in for a coffee. The freebies were only for those who needed them.

Her machine sprang to life and coffee bubbled away into a takeaway cardboard cup as she eyed Gabe discreetly add way too much money to the jar. “Thanks for the donation,” she said before handing him his coffee.

He inhaled the brew before taking a long sip. “Now that’s a coffee.”

Not wanting to fawn or dissolve in a puddle of lusciousness from his words, she played it cool and brushed his compliment away with a shrug of her shoulders. “You’re welcome.”

“How long are you in New York for?” he asked. A natural question since her Australian accent stood out like the proverbial sore thumb.

“I have a three-month visa and I’ve been here for one month already.”

“You don’t want to travel?” His eyebrows came together questioningly, which was perfectly understandable because Aussie tourists didn’t spend their vacation sleeping on a friend’s couch and working in a homeless shelter. But then, this wasn’t a vacation. Vacations didn’t include hiding away from social media and the scandal she’d left behind in her home city of Melbourne.

Leaning her hip against the counter she said, “I don’t know what I want. But working here is fun. I love it.”

He nodded. “Charlotte told me you two have been friends for years.”

Grinning in reply, she said, “Since high school. She’s so clever and an achiever. Look at her getting a job in the States, working for you.”

He lifted his brow. “She was the best candidate.” He took another long sip and she noted the tension dissipate from his face while his shoulders softened. “And what do you do?”

“I’m a barista,” she said.

“No, I mean, what do you do at home?”

“I’m a barista.” She gave him a wink before running her hand across the metal, stroking it with affection like it were a dog, not a machine. “I love what I do―”

One of the volunteers touched her on the shoulder. “I need three lattes.”

“On to it,” she said before returning her focus to Gabe. “It’s been nice meeting and talking to you but I need to work.”

“Can I catch up with you after?”

He wanted to see her? She sucked in a sharp breath of surprise. His question may have been casually asked but there was nothing casual with the flutter of excitement in her tummy. “Really?”

“Sure.” He gave her a lazy smile that made her want to jump over the counter, forget the coffee order, and chat with him now instead of later.

Looking at her watch in a way that would give her a few seconds of reprieve to calm the shake in her fingers she said, “We’ve got the lunchtime rush so it’ll be a couple of hours.”

He gave her another smile, which gave her a nice display of straight white teeth. “I have time.”

The next few hours passed in a blur of a procession in people coming in for lunch, coffees made, and tables cleared and set. As the self-professed manager, Lisa gave instructions to the newbies and assisted those waiters and staff who needed help. One of the reasons she loved working here so much was that the restaurant treated the homeless with dignity, like they were regular folks.

Expecting Gabe to be glued to his mobile phone, she was surprised to see him sitting at one of the communal tables chatting with Lou. Lou was a regular who came in each day at the same time and ordered the same meal. A creature of habit.

Her eyes widened seeing Gabe hand Lou a business card. Why? What could a businessman do for Lou?

Before she had time to ponder further, she was needed to help with clearing and setting the tables for dinner.

Gabe approached her. “I work nearby and had no idea this place existed.”

Lisa’s heart warmed as it always did when she spent time here. “You have no excuse since you’re a New Yorker.”

He grinned in reply. “Fair call. You’re a tourist, so how did you find this centre?”

“I was looking for a museum and took a wrong turn and ended up here.” She was reluctant to tell Gabe how such a small error had had such a profound impact on her. Working here, at the Helping Hand Café, had given her internal peace after the turmoil and racket she’d left behind in Melbourne.

“Shall I help you set the table?” His voice was filled with genuine emotion and she could see that he was interested in helping. Besides, if he hadn’t been, he would’ve left by now.

“That would be great, thanks.” She placed the drinking glasses on the table while Gabe set up the cutlery. “The Helping Hand treats the homeless with dignity. Instead of people getting their food dished out on a plastic plate with plastic cutlery, we use silver cutlery and crockery, and they get to sit down and be waited on. I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

“You’re the boss?” The stern look he gave her was matched by the softness in his facial expression. She knew he was teasing her.

She stifled a giggle. “I can’t help myself. I’ve got years of catering experience and I wanted to make some changes to improve the way things are done.”

“Well, from what I saw, everything was run very efficiently. Lou told me he doesn’t have to wait too long for his lunch.”

His compliment warmed her heart, not just because he’d said so but because locals like Lou appreciated the changes to processes that she’d implemented.

“I run Helping Hand like a business; it’s a restaurant, not just a place for people to eat.”

He nodded in reply. “You would never know this was a homeless centre by the way it’s managed. You’ve obviously done a good job.”

She felt her cheeks warm. “The centre was disorganised despite the number of enthusiastic volunteers but I have experience in running a café so I implemented a number of processes to make it efficient.” She paused as her heart grew heavy. “The only problem is that it’s closing in the New Year. The first of January to be exact.”

He shrugged. “Real estate in New York is expensive.” A crinkle creased the skin between his eyebrows.

Her heart sank even further with the realisation that there was little one lone tourist from Australia could do to save the centre. “I know. But it’s cold and these people rely on us to keep them fed and warm.”

“There are other places,” he said as he waved his hand in the air. “Probably not as nice and inviting as here but”―he paused―“to be honest, this is Manhattan. And land, especially in this area, comes at a premium.”

She breathed out a long sigh of disappointment. “I know. My head agrees with you but my heart aches at the idea of this place closing.” She couldn’t help the frustration eating into the tone of her voice. “This wonderful centre will be turned into some swanky, expensive place to eat”―she paused―“like so many already here. I mean, there are amazing restaurants everywhere in New York, do you really need another one?”

He chuckled in reply. “You already know the answer to that.”

The impending realisation of what was going to happen made her shoulders slump. Where would her customers go? And what about Lou? The winter cold outside was freezing. She expended a long breath of frustration. “Sorry, I’m upset that this place is closing.”

“I can understand that. I can see how you’ve put your heart into helping others, not just the way you make coffee but the way you greet people and make them feel valued.”

Her heart fluttered in response to his compliments. He’d been watching her serve and interact with the customers.

He continued, his deep voice making her toes curl in her boots. “I can’t promise anything but I’ll see if there’s any way of extending the lease or finding somewhere close by that you can relocate to.” He fiddled with his phone, tapping away, making notes. “I have a couple of friends in real estate, I’ll make some calls tomorrow.” He gave her a look with such intensity that she knew he’d keep his word. “I promise,” he said in a low voice.

Gratefulness clogged her throat and she nodded in reply, unable to thank him properly. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He looked at the tables. “We’ve finished, you ready to go?”

“Sure, I’ll grab my things,” she said before scooting to the staff area to grab her handbag and coat.

Minutes later they were walking along the footpath, rugged up against the bitter cold. “Do you think the Tenement Museum is open now?” she asked. “It’s close by.”

“I think so but you need to call ahead.” He paused. “That’s where you wanted to go, before you stumbled up on the shelter, right?”

“Yes. I forgot you do need to make a reservation.” She gave an exasperated sigh. “I really need to make time to go there.”

“It’s an incredible museum showcasing how immigrants came to America, and their lives. It’s interesting for tourists and also for us locals.”

“I know. I really need to take a break and go there.” She paused and gave him an encouraging smile. “How about you show off your town to me?”

“I can do that.” He returned her smile. “But we need to do the other way.” They turned around and started to walk toward Broadway. “We can get a taxi, if you’re cold.”

She gasped. “You joking? This is New York, I want to see everything. Lead on.” She tugged her hat tighter over her ears before they made their way along the busy streets, all decorated for the holiday period.

* * *

Half an hour later, they stopped on the sidewalk, a street side vendor was selling drinks and food. “Want a hot dog?”

Lisa’s tummy rumbled, having skipped lunch due to the business of the rush. “I’m hungry but―”

His brow lifted. “They’re kosher.”

She gasped. “Really?”

He pointed to a sign with a grin that made her heart flip-flop. “See?”

“You don’t look Jewish,” she said, giving him a play punch on the arm.

He chuckled. “Neither do you.”

“How did you know?” she asked with a curious lift of her eyebrow.

“Your earrings of course.” His outstretched finger pointed to her left ear.

Her gloved hands came up to the side of her head, her ears were still covered by her hat. “That’s right, I wore my chai earrings today.”

His lips curved into a knowing smile before he turned to the vendor and ordered. “Four hot dogs, thanks.”

“Two for me?” Her brow lifted in surprise.

“They’re not that big, besides we’ll be walking a lot.” He paused. “Plus, I don’t remember seeing you eat anything in the last few hours.”

Her tummy grumbled in response; she was hungry, and he had the consideration to notice.

“What do you want to drink?”

“A bottle of water, thanks.”

He ordered and paid before they stood and ate their hot dogs. “It’s delicious, thanks,” she said after swallowing her last bite of meat and bread.

“Well, you did ask me to impress you,” he added, giving her a smug smile.

They tossed the rubbish into the bin and continued walking. “Thanks, I really needed that.”

“Why didn’t you eat lunch?” His voice was filled with concern.

“You saw how busy we were. During the rush time I don’t stop making coffees.” She blew out a long breath and turned to look at him. “But I’m happy to do it. Working there has made me so grateful that I have somewhere warm to sleep…even though it’s on Charlotte’s couch.”

“You’re very giving of yourself and your time.” He gave her another intense look. “Why are you working? Why aren’t you enjoying yourself?”

“I am,” she responded defiantly, but even to her ears it came out accusingly, like she didn’t really believe it.

His hands came up, palms facing her. “I was just saying that a young woman like yourself should be making the most of her time here.” His arm arced the air. “There’s so much to see here: museums, art-galleries, shows, you name it, we’ve got it.”

Her lips pressed together because he was right. She should be doing more than just working at the centre. But without telling him all the sordid details of the mess she’d fled, it was easier to gloss over it and focus on what she was passionate about. Making good coffee and helping others.

She changed the conversation away from her and said, “You gave your card to Lou.” It was a statement rather than a question and she really wanted to know why.

“You saw that, huh?”

“I did.” She lifted her eyebrow and gave him a look that said she wanted an answer. He could be as evasive but she was going to get the truth from him.

“He was telling me how hard it is to get a job. He looks scruffy. Even in borrowed clothes, he knows he doesn’t make a good impression when applying for jobs. I’m organising for him to have a shave and haircut.”

Her heart and lips smiled. “You organised that for Lou?”

“Well, I’ll make a call tomorrow but he just needs to turn up and one of the staff will help him.”

“Gabe” ―her throat became clogged and her heart filled with admiration― “that’s so nice of you.” She couldn’t help herself and she turned to face him, hugging him hard. “Thank you.”

A flitter of gratitude pirouetted in her lungs while she looked at the man whom Charlotte had described as business-like and detached. He certainly hadn’t been like that with her or Lou.

“If I’d known I’d get a hug from a beautiful woman, I would’ve done that sooner.” He teased, his arms still around her waist.

She stepped back. “Sorry, was that inappropriate?”

“It’s okay,” he said in a tone that reassured her.

“Gabe?”

“Yes,” he said.

“I was thinking how nice it would be if other people could benefit from your generosity.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t want to put you on the spot or anything, but is there any way you could organise for people at the centre to get a free haircut? Could we give people a voucher system? Or perhaps, a hairdresser can come in? We could set up something.”

He scratched his chin. “I like the idea of giving back and helping those in need. Let me think about and get Charlotte on to it. She’s brilliant at campaigns.”

She pressed her hand against her heart, which was liable to melt especially since he hadn’t scoffed at her idea. His consideration made her like him even more. It wouldn’t be easy having homeless people turn up unannounced at his shops, especially in Manhattan. A plan would need to be drafted, staff trained, and processes implemented. Her gut knew he’d try hard to implement her idea whether it was a success or not.

Could this be the start of something special to get people off the streets? She hoped so and sent a prayer skyward that her zany, unfunded yet charitable idea could take off and help those in need.

Lisa looked around at the bustling city, so alive and different from her hometown in Australia. The contrast of people gaily walking around, shopping bags in hand against those in the shelter made her heart heavy. Everyone had a right to have a happy holiday time. Even the homeless.

Pushing aside thoughts of Lou and inappropriate hugging she said to Gabe, “Where are your hairdressing stores?”

“We have twenty across Manhattan, Queens, the Bronx, and Brooklyn.”

Her eyes widened in astonishment. “I’m impressed.”

“Thank you. Would you like to see one?”

She nodded.

He took her hand and guided her. “It’s only a short detour.” They crossed the street and walked down another. “Did Charlotte tell you we’re not just barbers? We specialise in men’s grooming. Each shop is different and is tailored to its clientele and location.”

She could hear the pride in his voice as he explained his business. “But at the core of each shop is for a man to walk in, feel comfortable, and know he’s going to have a quality cut or shave. The other stuff is window dressing. Some shops have pool tables and some have sports on big TVs but what we want is for the man to come in and know he’ll get a close shave or a haircut that suits him.”

“I love it,” she said. “It sounds like a great idea for men.”

He tugged at her hand and pulled her to his side. “See here. This is one of our Manhattan shops. It’s designed to suit the men who work and live here.”

“Olivari Barbers.” She read the large sign before peering inside, through the window. “It’s a very nice set up. Can I ask, is it more expensive here than other shops to have a haircut?”

His lips tugged with amusement. “Yes. The rent is higher, our clients understand this.”

She continued looking through the window, admiring the shop’s very masculine design and noting the friendly smiles of the staff. It looked very inviting. “Do you design them?”

“No. The owners and managers do. However, we have guidelines that they must adhere to. For example, no nudity or profanity.” She must have had a quizzical look on her face because he clarified, “We don’t allow topless female barbers or something that’s sexually explicit. A man should feel comfortable enough to come here, even if they bring their child with them.”

“Do you do women’s cuts?”

“No. It’s for men only.”

“Well there are plenty of other places for women,” she added in an encouraging tone. “So how did you come up with an idea to have these salons?”

His gloved hand took hers and despite the layers between their hands, his touch was comforting and gratifying. Despite the short time they’d known each other, walking hand in hand gave her a sudden wave of contentment. It didn’t feel strange, foolish, or even unorthodox to be holding hands with someone she’d only met a few hours. It surprisingly felt right.

“I’ll tell you on the way, come on,” he said.

* * *

The bustling of crowds and navigating their way along the busy sidewalk meant it was hard to have much more than a chit-chat. After a long walk and a final drink from her water bottle, they’d arrived.

Looking skyward she gasped with delight. “You brought me to the Empire State Building. Thank you, Gabe, it’s perfect.” Her tummy flip- flopped because she’d been wanting to come and see the view, she just hadn’t made the time, using the Helping Hand as an excuse. An excuse it was. She needed to do more than make coffee. She needed to see New York. She needed to find time for herself.

He tugged her close and again, she didn’t find it unusual that they were acting like they’d known each other for months rather than an afternoon. Couples often talked about instantly falling in love. She wasn’t sure that she was in love with Gabe but she’d definitely fallen “in like” with him. He was definitely someone she wanted to get to know more.

Taking in a whiff of his masculine scent mixed with a lemony tinge, she reflected that he was not only good looking but smelt nice too. She liked it. He may be an astute business New Yorker, but for now, he was her friend and she was really happy. Happy to her core.

He smiled and she noted how his whole face lit up, the acute angles of his cheekbones softening.

“Shall we go?”

Heat radiated in her chest and limbs had a feeling of weightlessness about them. “Yes, let’s.”