Page 106 of When Love Takes Root

I bounced on my toes before I could stop myself.

Josiah laughed, low and full, the sound warm enough to make the lanterns feel like they had moved closer. “You too damn cute, with your pretty ass.”

My whole dance stumbled.

I turned to him with my mouth open, heat rushing into my cheeks. “Excuse me?”

He didn’t even blink. His eyes stayed on me, steady and pleased, like watching me enjoy something he had planned was its own reward. “You heard me.”

“Josiah.”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“You can’t just say stuff like that while I’m trying to look at flowers.”

“I can when the flowers got competition.”

My lungs forgot the assignment.

He stepped closer, not crowding me, just close enough for the warmth of him to meet the lavender in the air.

I looked away first because the roses were safer. “You still didn’t answer my question.”

“I made a reservation.”

“That is not an answer.”

“It’s the one I’m giving.”

I smacked his arm lightly, and he caught my hand before I could pull it away. He held it there, gentle but certain, his thumb still moving over that tender place beneath my palm like he knew my nerves had started speaking in tongues.

His voice lowered. “I figured a woman who spends all day making other people feel beautiful deserved to sit somewhere beauty didn’t ask for anything from her.”

I stared at him.

“You can’t keep doing that,” I said.

“Doing what?”

“Saying things that make me forget I had defenses.”

His eyes held mine. “I don’t want you defenseless.”

“No?”

“No. I want you safe enough not to need armor every second.”

My fingers tightened around his.

He checked in with the hostess, and she led us down a winding path beneath hanging wisteria toward a section marked by a small sign in hammered copper.

The Red Garden.

I slowed.

Deep red roses climbed arched trellises along the entrance. Hibiscus bloomed wide and dramatic near the corners, their petals dark as wine. Burgundy orchids spilled from hanging baskets. Copper-toned leaves shimmered among green vines, warm and burnished beneath the lanterns.

Our table sat in the middle, small and private, tucked near a fountain where water ran over smooth black stones. Two glasses waited beside a pot of tea, and a charcuterie board sat arranged with fruit, cheeses, nuts, honeycomb, and tiny pastries dusted with sugar.