Page 31 of No Greater Love
"Nothing too scandalous," I said, though I could feel heat creeping up my neck. "Just... dinner. Maybe dancing."
"Mmmhmm." Sophia's expression was knowing, but she didn't push. "I'll talk to Madison tonight. When were you thinking?"
"Tomorrow? If that works for everyone."
"I'll text Madison right now to ask," Sophia promised. "But Tasha? Good for you. He's a good man. He deserves someone who sees that."
As I walked away, I felt something settle in my chest. A sense of rightness, like I was finally doing something I should have done weeks ago.
Nathan Crawford had stood up for me when it mattered. Now it was my turn to show him that some risks were worth taking.
eleven
nate
I'd been replayingTuesday's incident in my head for three days straight, and it wasn't getting any better.
The write-up from Sophia sat in my personnel file like a ticking bomb. The shame of losing control in front of my colleagues ate at me every time I walked into the ER. But worst of all was the uncertainty—the way Tasha had looked at me afterward, an expression I couldn't read, couldn't decode, couldn't get out of my head.
I'd risked everything for her. My job, my reputation, Paige's security. And I still didn't know if she was grateful or horrified.
"Crawford."
I looked up from the supply cart I'd been organizing with unnecessary precision to find Tasha approaching. She moved with her usual confidence, but there was something different in her expression—something purposeful that made my stomach clench with anxiety.
"Tasha," I replied, keeping my voice carefully neutral.
"You got a minute?" She glanced around the busy ER, then back at me. "I wanted to ask you something."
This was it. She was going to tell me the incident had made her uncomfortable, that my loss of control had crossed a line, that we needed to maintain strictly professional boundaries going forward. I'd been dreading this conversation for three days.
"Of course," I said, setting down the IV tubing I'd been arranging for the third time.
"Would you like to have dinner sometime?" she asked. "Or coffee? Whatever you're comfortable with."
I blinked, certain I'd misheard. "I'm sorry?"
"Dinner. You and me. Like a date." Her tone was matter-of-fact, but I caught the slight uncertainty underneath. "Unless you're not interested, which is totally fine?—"
"No," I said quickly, then realized how that sounded. "I mean, yes. I'm interested. I’m very interested. I just... I didn't expect..."
A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "Good. I was thinking tomorrow night, if that works for you."
"Tomorrow?" My mind immediately went to logistics. "I'd need to arrange childcare for Paige. Mrs. Swanson might be available, but it's short notice?—"
"Actually," Tasha interrupted, and her smile widened, "I already talked to Sophia. Madison's going to hang out with Paige tomorrow night. Sleepover, if that’s okay with you? Sophia said she'd love to do it."
I stared at her, trying to process this information. "You... talked to Sophia? About babysitting? For us?"
"Well, technically I talked to her about Madison babysitting so I could ask you out properly." Tasha's expression was almost smug now. "I figured you'd never leave Paige with just anyone, and Madison's great with kids."
She'd planned this. She'd thought through the one obstacle that would have made me hesitate and solved it before I even knew there was a problem. The consideration behind that gesture made something light and buoyant expand in my chest.
"That's... very thoughtful," I managed.
"I have my moments." She paused, and when she spoke again, her voice carried a hint of mischief. "So, about dinner. I was thinking we could try this place I've been wanting to check out. It's called Whiskey River. It's a honky-tonk."
The word sent my thoughts scattering in twelve different directions. A honky-tonk. Tasha Williams, a Black woman, was asking me, a white man, to a honky-tonk. On our first official date.
