Page 34 of No Greater Love
"You should get going," she said. "Tasha's probably already wondering where you are."
"Right." I called up the stairs. "Paige! I'm leaving!"
"Bye, Dad!" came the muffled response. "Have fun on your date!"
"No worries, Mr. C," Madison added, her voice carrying down the hallway. "We've got this handled!"
Jack caught my expression and grinned. "Madison's got a good head on her shoulders. Paige is in excellent hands."
"I know." I grabbed my keys. "Thanks again, both of you."
"Go," Sophia said, practically pushing me toward the door. "And Nate? Have fun. You deserve this."
Twenty minutes later, I was pulling into the parking lot of Tasha's apartment complex, and my nervousness had been completely overtaken by curiosity. She lived in one of those converted warehouse buildings down by the river—industrial brick and huge windows, the kind of place that screamed urban professional rather than struggling nurse.
I found her building and texted:
Here
Coming down
came the immediate reply.
I got out of the car to wait, and when the lobby door opened, every coherent thought in my head evaporated.
Tasha stepped out wearing dark jeans that hugged every curve and a burgundy top that made her skin seem to glow from within. Her hair was down, falling in soft waves around her shoulders instead of the practical ponytail she wore at work, and she was wearing silver earrings that caught the light when she moved.
I'd always known she was attractive. I could appreciate her looks the way you might admire a painting in an art gallery, with professional detachment and aesthetic appreciation.
But this... this was different. Tonight she wasn't just attractive. Tonight she was absolutelydevastating.
"You clean up nice, Crawford," she said as she approached, and her smile was warm and knowing, like she could see exactly what her appearance was doing to me.
"You look..." I started, then lost track of my words as she stepped closer, close enough that I could smell her perfume—something warm and spicy that made me want to lean in and breathe deeper. "Amazing. You look amazing."
"Thank you." She seemed pleased by my reaction, which only made her more beautiful. "You ready for this?"
"Define ready," I managed, opening the passenger door for her.
She laughed as she slid into the seat, a sound that made my breath catch a little. "Come on, Crawford. Let's see if you can handle a little country music."
As I walked around to the driver's side, I caught her watching me through the windshield, and the heat in her gaze made something low in my stomach clench with anticipation.
Whatever happened tonight, I was pretty sure my carefully controlled world was about to get turned upside down.
twelve
tasha
The driveto Whiskey River was surprisingly comfortable. I'd expected awkwardness, maybe some nervous small talk, but instead we fell into an easy rhythm. Nate was a careful driver—of course he was—but not obsessively so. He asked about my week, listened when I complained about Dr. Ward's latest bizarre comment, even laughed at my impression of Mrs. Boitnott from Room 3 who'd insisted her chest pain was caused by "too much thinking."
"Too much thinking?" he repeated, glancing over at me with amusement.
"Apparently her brain was working so hard, it was pulling blood away from her heart." I shook my head. "She was very serious about this theory."
"And the actual diagnosis?"
"Acid reflux. From the gas station burrito she'd eaten an hour before."
