Page 17 of When a Soul Cries

“Maybe.”

I held her gaze long enough for her to understand exactly what had distracted me.

She looked away first.

Her smile was pretty, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Something heavy sat behind them. Something she couldn’t hide as easily as she tried to hide her body beneath that oversized shirt.

“You okay?” I asked.

Her smile disappeared.

She turned back toward the box she had been unloading. “The coffee is right behind you.”

“That wasn’t what I asked.”

“Have a good day, sir.”

Dismissed.

I almost laughed.

Most women searched for reasons to keep me standing in front of them. This one had gotten rid of me in less than two minutes.

Instead of offending me, it made me want to know more.

I grabbed three different brands of coffee because Sugga hadn’t specified which one she wanted and continued shopping.

By the time I reached the registers, the cart was full.

Only two checkout lanes were open, and one had a line wrapped halfway into the frozen-food aisle. I headed toward the shorter one just as a woman with long orange nails snatched a can from one of her bags.

“One eighty-seven?” she asked loudly. “Uh-uh. Something ain’t right.”

The cashier stood behind the register, looking like she was holding herself together with whatever strength she had left.

It was her.

The woman from the coffee aisle.

My eyes dropped to the name tag pinned to her red vest.

SOLEIA.

Someone had written SOL beneath it in black marker.

Sol.

Now I had a name to put with the face I hadn’t been able to get out of my mind.

Even tired, she was beautiful.

Not the kind of beautiful that walked into a room demanding to be noticed.

Hers caught you off guard.

The customer continued digging through the bags while complaining about prices Sol clearly didn’t control.

Sol apologized anyway.