Page 60 of Lennox Lane

“Yeah?”

“No illegal nonsense that can blow back on my food bank.”

He paused.

Her eyes narrowed. “That pause was loud.”

“I was adjusting expectations.”

“Adjust them toward lawful.”

“Ish.”

“Lennox.”

“Fine. Nothing that blows back on you or the food bank.”

“That is not what I said.”

“It is the most realistic version of what you said.”

She stared at him.

He smiled.

“You are exhausting,” she said.

“You like me.”

“I tolerate you under protest.”

“Progress.”

She looked away, but he saw the smile she tried to hide. It did something stupid to his chest. They stood in the quiet of her office as the muffled sounds of the food bank moved around them. Carts rolling. Voices calling out. Somebody laughing near the pantry shelves. The life of the place breathing beyond the door.

Lennox looked at Lane and realized no version of him could walk away from this woman again.

Not from her body.

Not from her mouth.

Not from the way she stood between vulnerable people and powerful men in bad suits.

Not from the girl she had been or the woman she had become.

He slipped Curtis’s card into his pocket. “Have dinner with me tonight.”

Lane blinked. “That wasn’t a smooth transition.”

“I didn’t want to lose momentum.”

“From gentrification threats to dinner?”

“Yes.”

“Romantic.”

“I can add flowers.”