Page 119 of When Love Takes Root

“I skipped lunch because my last client decided her scalp needed deliverance and a full retwist discussion.”

“Then I need to feed you before your attitude gets organized.”

She pointed at me. “My attitude is already organized. It has folders.”

“I believe that.”

Her smile came quick and pretty, and I had to turn toward the kitchen before my face told too much.

The rosemary sat in the window above the sink. Celeste saw it as soon as we walked in. She went still for half a breath, then touched one finger to a sprig.

“You kept it in the kitchen?”

“I spend most mornings here.”

“It looks good.”

“I’m trying not to overwater it.”

“Look at you learning restraint.”

I stopped beside the island, close enough to smell her perfume again. “Restraint and I are well acquainted.”

Her eyes lifted.

The kitchen hummed around us, stove low, dishwasher quiet, dusk darkening the windows. She looked away first.

“Something smells good.”

“Salmon, green beans, baby potatoes, and rolls.”

Her brows lifted. “You did all that?”

“I started all that. You said you enjoy supervising.”

“I do.” She set her purse on a counter stool and rolled up her sleeves. “What you need me to do?”

“Nothing.”

She blinked. “Josiah.”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“I know you didn’t invite me over here to watch you cook like I’m company.”

“You’re company.”

“I’m helpful company.”

“You’re hungry company.”

“And still helpful.”

I handed her a small bowl of lemons. “You can squeeze these.”

She stared at the bowl. “This is busywork.”

“It’s safe work.”