Page 3 of Sycamore Circle

As far as he was concerned, the big guy up in the clouds had put him in this place to meet this woman. He wasn’t going to pass that up. After all, wasn’t all of this taking place in a former church? There was something special going on and he intended to see it through.

Walking toward the door, where Mason was standing impatiently, Bo said, “I’m gonna need a few.”

Mason’s eyebrows rose a good inch. “To do what?”

“Not your concern.” Thinking quickly, he said, “Adrian is working over at the house nearby. Go check on him then come back.”

“Are you serious? All you’ve been doing since we arrived was complain about it taking so long.”

“Give me an hour.”

Mason didn’t budge. “What am I supposed to tell Lincoln if he calls?”

Lincoln was their boss. The group—Lincoln and all of the men he employed—was made up entirely of ex-cons. Lincoln worked with the prison in Madisonville, a team of probation officers, and the local sheriff’s department to help men who just got out to acclimate to the outside again. He got them jobs and tried to give them a support system so they wouldn’t go right back in.

Bo was in charge of one of the systems—rehabbing old houses. Mason worked more on the business side, determining whether to keep the houses, sell them, or use them as rentals. “Don’t say nothing to Lincoln,” he replied. “Or, if you want, tell him that I’ll explain myself later.”

“Yeah, all right.” Mason checked his phone. “I’ll be back at noon.”

“Thanks.”

Noticing that Anthony was leaving but the woman was still seated, Bo knew it was time to make his move. It was now or never, and he really wasn’t cool with never.

CHAPTER 2

Even though she had her calendar open in front of her and about a dozen things on her to-do list, all Joy seemed to be able to do was eye the guy standing against the wall. Directly in her line of vision.

One of his arms was entirely filled in with tattoos—various pictures, words, and lines all competing for space over a well-developed set of muscles. Worse, what wasn’t on display was hinted at under a snug-fitting gray T-shirt.

It wasn’t fair that a man could be that good-looking, Joy Howard decided. Especially since it seemed like he was unaware of how attractive he was.

Of course, maybe he was just used to what he saw in the mirror every morning and didn’t think about it. She supposed that might be easy to fall into.

Unable to help herself, she’d been amused at the way he’d shut down the blond gal’s attempt to start a conversation.

It was almost as if she had been an annoying fly and he didn’t exactly want to squash her—just to get her out of his way.

That had been impressive.

What she wasn’t sure about now was the way he was looking at her. His eyes kept darting her way and lingering for a few seconds at a time. Joy pretended not to notice, especially since she had no idea why his eyes would be on her, anyway.

“Do you have everything?” she asked as she watched Anthony stuff his materials in his backpack.

“I do. Just like always.”

“You take care now.”

“You too.” Anthony’s voice slowed. “Would you like me to walk you out, Joy?”

Ah. It seemed he’d noticed the stranger’s stare too. “Thank you but I’m going to stay here a little while longer.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“I’m sure.” She smiled, just to prove that she was. “See you next week?”

“I’ll be here. Like always, right?”

“Right.” They’d first met years ago. Anthony had been essentially homeless. He’d hung out around the area, usually on one of the benches. Something about him had touched her heart. She’d started bringing him a cookie or snack whenever she left one of the restaurants in the area. Eventually he’d gotten a job at Sacred Grounds as the janitor, and they would exchange greetings whenever she came in. When she realized he couldn’t read, he’d become her student.

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