Page 83 of When Love Takes Root

A memory with no words attached.

Then Josiah rose, and for one suspended breath, his eyes found mine across the room.

My hand tightened around the Uno box.

He didn’t wave. Didn’t call my name. Didn’t make the room part around whatever had been growing between us since fajitas and truth. He simply looked at me, held my gaze long enough for my pulse to remember last night, then gave the smallest nod.

Respectful.

Aware.

Dangerous as hell.

I looked down first because Mrs. Alberta was already watching me with the smug righteousness of a woman who had found fresh gossip and planned to season it later.

By the time I signed out, I was tired in every place that mattered.

I was reaching into my tote for my keys when Tasha came from behind the desk with another woman beside her, a security aide named Marlene, who worked evenings and wore purple glasses with rhinestones on the corners.

“Ms. Celeste,” Tasha said.

I looked up. “Yes?”

Marlene smiled. “I’m going to walk you to your car.”

“Oh, baby, I’m fine. I’ve been coming here forever.”

“I know,” she said. “But I was asked to make sure you get there safely.”

I stilled.

Tasha’s smile turned knowing, but she kept her voice professional. “The gentleman who was here with his cousin and grandfather asked if someone could escort you out when you left. He also asked us to please make sure you let somebody know you made it home safely.”

Only one thought remained: Josiah had noticed.

He had noticed me staying and made provision without making a performance.

I looked toward the front windows, but he was long gone. No truck waiting by the curb. No tall man leaning against a door with a smile that could undo my common sense. Just evening light fading over the parking lot and my reflection in the glass, a widow with keys in her hand and her heart acting brand new.

Marlene tilted her head. “You ready, sweetheart?”

I nodded because my mouth had taken a small leave of absence.

We walked outside together. The air smelled like warm pavement, cut grass, and rain gathering somewhere beyond the clouds. Marlene stayed beside me, talking about her granddaughter’s spelling bee, but my mind remained with the man who hadn’t touched me, hadn’t crowded me, hadn’t interrupted my day, yet somehow managed to make me feel covered from a distance.

That was worse than flirting.

Flirting made a woman smile.

Consideration made her reconsider every wall.

At my car, Marlene waited while I unlocked the door and placed my tote on the passenger seat. “You got somebody to text?”

I thought of my children first. Then, against my will, I thought of Josiah.

“I do.”

“Good. Send it before you pull off.”