Page 30 of When a Soul Cries

That combination got my attention immediately.

I got out and started my pump. Usually, I could tell when a woman noticed me. She had. Her eyes passed over me once before returning to the pump like I was no more interesting than the trash can beside it.

That made me smile.

Then she opened the back door, and I noticed the car seat.

A little girl was strapped inside, slumped against it. She couldn’t have been more than one. Her eyes were heavy, her little face tired instead of animated like babies usually were.

The woman leaned inside.

“You okay, baby?”

The baby made a faint sound.

She pressed the back of her hand against the little girl’s forehead, and something about her whole demeanor changed. All that irritation disappeared beneath worry before she quickly covered it again.

When she straightened, she caught me looking.

“What?”

Damn.

No smile. No hello.

Just *what?*

“I can’t look?”

“You can look somewhere else.”

A laugh escaped me. “Aight.”

She turned back to the pump.

“You in a rush?”

Her head turned slowly. “Obviously.”

“Damn. I was just asking.”

“And I answered.”

There was so much attitude packed into those three words that I couldn’t help smiling again.

“You always this friendly?”

“I’m not trying to be friendly.”

“I can tell.”

“Good.”

She checked the backseat again, and this time I left the jokes alone.

“You good?”

Her eyes snapped toward me. “I’m fine.”