She shook her head lightly, her gaze dropping to my hands as if she was studying something I didn't notice about myself. Then she smiled in a soft, careful voice. "I didn't come to see Ashton. I came to see you, Ms. Stovall. And I must say… your hands are really beautiful."
The compliment felt too precise, too intentional. Still, I kept my expression calm. I gave a small laugh and replied politely, "You're flattering me, Ms. Anderson. Yours are far more elegant than mine."
It was the kind of exchange women learn to perfect. Smiles on the surface, questions hiding underneath.
I already knew she hadn't come here for something as simple as tea.
I reached for the coffee beans Ashton had once brought back and began preparing them slowly. The aroma filled the room almost instantly, rich and deep, like something meant to be noticed.
"I don't usually drink coffee," I said lightly while working, "but Ashton likes this one. It's rare. I thought I'd let you try something he enjoys."
