Page 152 of When Love Takes Root

She tried to look annoyed. She failed.

Camden saw it too and laughed. “Look at you. Whole cheeks glowing.”

“Please don’t start.”

“I’m your brother. Starting is in my job description.”

She reached for the bag. “Give me my cake.”

He held it away from her. “Say please.”

“Camden.”

“You still bossy.”

“You still irritating.”

“And yet, I brought cake.”

Celeste snatched the bag when he let her have it and looked inside. “From Mama Jean’s?”

“Of course.”

Her smile softened. “Thank you.”

Camden kissed her forehead. “Anything for you, baby girl.”

Camden stayed for a while, talking to the stylists, checking the repaired back row like he understood enough to know when something looked right, and making Celeste laugh every time she tried to act like she wasn’t happy. I went back to finishing details: outlet covers, clean-up, tool inventory, final photos, email notes. Work helped keep me from staring at her too much.

It didn’t stop me completely.

At one point, Celeste came to the back to check the dryer stations. I was kneeling near the baseboard, securing the last cover, when she stopped beside me. Her shoes came into view first. Black flats. Purple polish showing at the toes from the open edge.

I looked up.

She looked down at me with the bakery bag tucked against her side. “Everything good?”

“Yes.”

She glanced behind her, then crouched slightly and held out a small napkin-wrapped slice of pound cake. “Here.”

I took it. “You feeding me dessert at work now?”

“I’m sharing.”

“You don’t share cake.”

Her eyes narrowed. “How do you know that?”

“You looked at Camden like he’d brought you inheritance.”

She laughed, low and sweet. “I like lemon pound cake.”

“I noticed.”

“You notice everything.”

I stood, close enough to smell citrus frosting and the soft floral perfume at her throat. “Not everything.” Her eyes lifted. “I’m still learning you.”