Chapter 5
five
S he hadn’t brought any of her performance leotards home. What would she wear in this circus?
Still in bed, the late morning sun peeking through the blinds in her childhood room, Rosalyn opened her go-to shopping app and started scrolling through the options. Not that the leo was top priority right now. But stressing over glittery fabric felt a lot better than allowing herself to replay last night’s walk and car ride with Cade.
Purple with feathers. She wrinkled her nose. Flick .
Red sequins. She squinted. Maybe. Flick .
Cade’s smile as he’d grinned at her through the studio window.
She swallowed. Flick .
Funny how being home somehow turned her right back into the schoolgirl she’d always been—telling herself she wasn’t crushing on her number one rival, Cade Landry. Back then, Amber would’ve disowned her from their group. Well…not that it mattered. Cade never gave her the time of day unless he was trying to beat her.
And being in this particular room—the one where Rosalyn used to sit in front of the full-length mirror and check for runs in her ballet tights—brought back the overwhelming feeling of imperfection. Of being not quite enough for Mom to be proud of. For having traded her tutu for silks, her bun for glittery braids.
You mean, you’re really going to run away and join the circus? Mom’s reaction to Rosalyn announcing she’d been accepted into her dream aerial college her junior year at Harvard.
Rosalyn swallowed, the images on her phone blurring. Ironic that Mom tried to talk her into joining Cade’s circus. Mom acted proud, but it felt so…obligating. Like maybe she had no choice and was on board because it was the proper thing to do.
If she had been proud, wouldn’t Rosalyn’s trophies and medals still be on display? Wouldn’t she have saved some of her old competition costumes and local newspaper clippings, the way most parents saved baby blankets and cheerleading trophies?
But when Rosalyn had come home from Harvard that first time her freshman year, her mom had removed all the embarrassing pieces, leaving behind only freshly painted baseboards and a clean slate.
Rosalyn’s phone buzzed with an incoming call, and she jerked, her head rolling against the pillow. She clutched the phone to her cheek and braced before checking the number, hoping she was wrong despite every instinct shouting she wasn’t.
She risked a peek.
Blaine.
Ugh. She silenced the call, then tossed the phone to her nightstand and pulled the fluffy white duvet over her head. Heart racing, she tried to pray, but the words froze on her lips. It was her fault—she couldn’t exactly expect God to bail her out of her own bad decisions, could she?
Did good intentions count?
Her fingers twitched with the urge to return the call to her manager. To see if Blaine finally had good news— the news she’d been waiting for.
But if he didn’t, well—she didn’t want to talk to him, tell him she was performing without him for the first time since her injury. Besides, she didn’t owe him anything—he’d lied to her. He was the reason she had to stay alert, had to get an escort to walk her to her car parked one block away in her own hometown.
And to think mere weeks ago, she thought he’d saved her.
Had she brought danger to her parents’ doorstep?
Frustrated, she threw back the duvet and stared at the ceiling fan whirring overhead. The metal chain clacked in the created draft, white noise that had finally lulled her to sleep sometime after one a.m. Some big star she’d turned out to be. She was a grown woman, back in her parents’ house, fighting insomnia, nursing an injury, and carrying a pack of secrets no one could discover.
Or else.
A knock sounded on her door and she nearly fell out of the bed.
“Honey? You awake?”
She gulped. Only Mom—still a little scary, in a different way.
Rosalyn untangled from the blanket and opened the door, willing her heartbeat to slow. Mom was already dressed for the day in pressed slacks and a silk blouse, lipstick securely in place and a mildly concerned frown pinching her brow.
“I’m up.” Barely, but she couldn’t let her mother know how tired she was or she’d be pumped full of vitamin smoothies and herbal tea before she’d even brushed her teeth. Rosalyn stifled a yawn. “Was online shopping for a leo for the Cajun Circus.”
Mom gasped. “So you’re going to do it?” Her delighted smile hid the age lines attempting to peek through her designer makeup. “That’s wonderful news!”
She mutely nodded. Would Mom still smile at Rosalyn that way if she knew what happened in Saudi Arabia? Knew what Blaine had done?
Knew Rosalyn’s secret?
“How’s your knee?” Mom’s gaze dropped expectantly to Rosalyn’s leg, still clad in pink knit pajama pants, and frowned. “Would you like a heating pad?”
Rosalyn shrugged. “It’s okay. A little sore from practice yesterday, but manageable.”
Though she wondered if she’d made the right decision. Hadn’t she come home to heal and hide ? Not that a small-town circus would raise the type of media attention that would draw an unwanted spotlight to her. And Blaine had said he was buying her some time.
Still…he’d lied before.
Her chest tightened. Regardless, she needed the money.
And that was not a lie.
“I’m so glad you agreed to help out, sweetie. Your participation really brings this fundraiser to a new level for Cade. For the whole town!” Mom clapped her hands together, gold rings sparkling. “This is going to be great.”
Butterflies threatened Rosalyn’s empty stomach. “Yes, great.”
“You don’t seem convinced.” Mom frowned again.
“I haven’t performed since my fall.” Rosalyn shrugged like it didn’t matter. Like she wasn’t constantly trying to figure out what to do next with her career. Like Blaine wasn’t pressuring her to return to performing ASAP to pay off her growing debt.
Like she wasn’t in so far over her head, she couldn’t find the light.
“Oh, you’ll be fine. It’s normal to have stage fright after something like that.” Mom’s frown eased and she offered an encouraging smile.
Stage fright was for people nervous about stuttering or forgetting their lines. What was the term for “scanning the audience for sleek, dark-haired men in expensive suits looking to hurt her?”
Maybe Mom had been right all along and Rosalyn should’ve stuck with ballet. Somehow, she doubted she’d be in this giant mess if she’d kept to pliés and pirouettes at Lettie’s.
“Thanks.” Rosalyn started to shut the door. “I was about to change and head over to Madame Paulette’s to do some stretching, so…”
“You know, while you’re out, you might see if Cade could use any help with Magnolia Days planning.” Mom touched the door, stopping her from shutting it completely. “He’s doing such a good job as town director, but I’m sure it’s overwhelming for him.”
It’d certainly seemed that way yesterday. But she had her own problems, didn’t she? Rosalyn nudged the door another inch, forcing a smile. “I might.”
Being around Cade wouldn’t be a horrible way to spend the day, but keeping her guard up after their connection last night would be tricky. Still, that defeated look in his eyes when he’d shared about the disappointing phone call wasn’t one she’d ever seen on a Landry before. Cade Landry, affected by…anything?
“Helping him out with some tasks might keep your mind off your nerves.” A knowing smile spread across her mother’s signature pink lipstick. “And besides…you could do worse than Cade, you know.”
Wait. Did Mom think she thought she was too good for Cade? More like the opposite. Regardless, she had no business trusting anyone right now—including herself.
But she couldn’t say all that, so she dragged in a breath and simply nodded. “I know.”
Mom took the hint and backed away from the door. “Anyway, you’ll do great at the circus, hon. Your father and I can’t wait to see you perform again.” Then she strode down the hall, leaving a trail of confusion and flowery Dior in her wake.
Rosalyn hesitated, clutching the doorknob. She sounded like she meant it. But…she’d always been good at saying the right thing at the right time. Having grown up in a low-income family, she’d literally taken etiquette classes after marrying Rosalyn’s father—a successful businessman with a degree in accounting and an eye for a deal—and made Rosalyn do the same as a pre-teen. Rosalyn knew exactly which fork went where on the table, how to discreetly fold a napkin in your lap to hide food stains…
Could Mom finally be genuinely proud of her? Or was this another fork to place?
“Oh, that reminds me.” Mom turned back and snapped her fingers. “You might want to check your closet.”
Rosalyn frowned. “What do you mean?”
But she was gone, taking Dior into the kitchen.
Rosalyn slowly moved to the walk-in closet, where she’d stowed her clothes when she arrived in town days ago. She flipped on the light and haphazardly rifled through the hangers containing workout tops, sundresses, tanks, and leggings. A few stuffed animals, too big to box up, perched on the top shelf next to a cardboard container marked BEDDING in bold Sharpie, along with an antique lamp and packaged tea set.
She reached farther, toward the back, where Mom’s wedding dress had hung ever since Rosalyn moved to Harvard, and pushed the heavy garment bag aside.
And there, sparkling up at her—as if winking to prove a point—were all her old performance leotards.
* * *
“You had a big day yesterday.” Dad set his coffee mug on his desk and turned an expectant gaze on Cade.
Cade leaned one shoulder against the doorjamb to his father’s office, next to his own, and scrubbed a hand down his chin. “Yeah, it was pretty wild seeing Rosalyn again.”
He’d watched her drive safely away from his parked car at Chug a Mug, then gone home and spent a good three hours remembering her smile before he finally dozed off.
Dad’s graying eyebrows shot toward his receding hairline.
Oops. Obviously, Rosalyn wasn’t what he’d been referring to.
Cade straightened. “I mean, you know—it was busy, trying to meet with Rosalyn about the circus on top of all the community issues that popped up and the Magnolia Days planning.”
“Right, right.” Dad’s all-seeing eyes narrowed, but he was too good at reading a room to push further. He knew when to keep his cards close—a fact Cade had never been more grateful for.
Cade cleared his throat. “Turns out the pothole in front of Chug a Mug is legit. Miley wasn’t exaggerating.” He gestured in the general direction of the paperwork he’d dropped off before leaving the office yesterday. “I told her we’d make it a top priority.”
“Did you, now? Sounds like politician talk to me.” Dad chuckled as he shuffled through his inbox. How did that thick tower of papers not stress him? Cade could feel his blood pressure spiking and he wasn’t even in charge of that particular pile.
“Speaking of politics…” Dad pointed to the chair across from him. “Got a minute?”
No—his overwhelming responsibilities awaited him in his office down the hall—but it was most likely a rhetorical question.
Cade sat.
The clock on the wall ticked a steady rhythm. “You know I don’t like to beat around the bush.” Dad leaned forward, resting his forearms on the desk. “So I’m just going to say it.”
Oh boy.
Cade mentally ran through his list of recent potential failures as he hooked one ankle over his knee and kept his smile projecting confidence. Had some other disgruntled community member filed a complaint about him? Had he overbudgeted for Magnolia Days? Honestly, Rosalyn was the most expensive piece of that puzzle, even at what he knew was a heavy discount. If it had been a single performance, she might’ve done it for free. But three performances, during the last three nights of Magnolia Days, required a lot more energy and time away from her big-money gigs at wherever she’d been the last several months.
“—the past few years, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.”
Oops again. He hadn’t been listening. Cade tried to focus on his father’s words and not thoughts of Rosalyn. Of the way her eyes crinkled at the corners when she called him “Landry,” or how cute she was when she pretended to be mad and how graceful she looked even while dangling upside down from a bunch of fabric?—
“—don’t you agree?” Dad lifted his chin.
On what? Though regardless, it was probably best if he did. Cade hesitated and then nodded. He needed context clues, quick.
Dad reclined back in his chair, looking…relieved. Okay, so agreement had been a good thing. At least he’d guessed right.
“It’ll be a long transition, don’t worry. And of course you’ll have to officially run. We can’t get around that.”
Run? Cade squinted. He hadn’t run since his failed track attempts in high school, when the coach had busted him for hiding Snickers in his gym shorts pockets. Which was crazy. Everyone knew runners needed to refuel.
“But running should only be a formality. After all, no one has challenged my race the past several terms.” Dad smiled as he tapped his knuckles on the desk. “I’m sure the same will go for you.”
Run. Race. The context clues became all too clear—and there weren’t enough Snickers in the world.
Dad wanted him to run for mayor.
“You’re retiring?” Cade’s voice cracked. But wait. He was supposed to have known that at this stage of the conversation. He sucked in a breath. “It’s going to be weird to see you retire, I mean.” Which was true. Dad had been mayor since Cade was a kid. But now— in the midst of the hurricane recovery crisis?
He shifted positions in his chair. “Dad, this is great. But I’m a little worried about the timing.” The timing…the people…everyone loved Cade, sure. He practically was Magnolia Bay.
But did they see him as capable of leading their town rather than simply marketing it? He tugged at his suddenly tight collar. Or worse…would they only vote for him because of his dad?
“Your mother and I have been discussing it since my last term. I hung in there longer than I intended, which turned out to be a good thing because of Hurricane Anastasia. But it’ll be good to take a step back. Play more golf.” He smiled. “I’m sure you’ll be a shoo-in.”
Maybe. But to start a campaign—even as a formality—the same time as Magnolia Days? Who was going to do his job if he transitioned into his father’s?
His thoughts raced with the same intensity as the pulse in his ears. He still hadn’t confirmed the porta-potties. The food truck vendor battle raged, potholes were popping up all over the city like an endless game of Whack-a-Mole, and he was still waiting to hear back from the animal trainer up north about dancing poodles. Not to mention the permit paperwork that hadn’t fully cleared his desk and the advertising graphics he’d started but not finished creating…
A knot formed in Cade’s stomach, rising into the center of his chest until he couldn’t breathe. He hadn’t had an anxiety attack in years, not since attempting the bar.
He forced oxygen into his lungs, but his vision blurred.
Dad tossed a stray paper clip into the wire holder near his monitor. “I know this puts a little extra load on your shoulders with all the fundraising going on.”
No kidding.
What was that grounding technique Cade used to do? List something he could smell, something he could see, and something he could hear. He desperately scanned the room.
Dad continued. “I know you’re up for the task…”
Lemon-scented air freshener.
The unwrapped, multicolored pack of sticky notes near the desk lamp.
Birds chirping outside the office window.
“But I think it best to keep our plan a secret a while longer.” Dad gestured between himself and Cade, seemingly still oblivious to the bomb he’d tossed. “Your mother knows, of course, but let’s keep it to that.”
Wait.
Cade sucked in a full breath. “So, no campaign?” His vision cleared.
“Not yet. Re-election isn’t until November, so there’s plenty of time to get past Magnolia Days first.”
He could breathe again. Cade tried to school his features into a casual expression, as he fished in his pocket for Tic Tacs.
His father steepled his fingers atop his desk calendar. “I wanted you to be prepared to shift in that direction the moment the fundraiser is over. Besides, even if we don’t start campaigning until mid-July, it seems prudent to start training you as soon as possible.”
“Right.” Cade dumped several mints into his hand and popped them into his mouth.
Dad’s eyes shone. “I’m so glad you’re on board with this.”
And Cade was so glad his father got that impression from the past two minutes. Apparently Cade’s acting skills were better than he realized. He popped another mint and mumbled around it. “Of course.”
What was he going to do? His own job was overwhelming enough—his father had a huge responsibility to the people that Cade didn’t want. All these years, Dad had managed to be charismatic and capable with the town. Firm and kind. Authoritative and approachable.
Cade wasn’t a mixture of those things. Cade was the good guy, the friendly face, the fundraiser. The go-between. When his father didn’t approve something, Cade didn’t take the heat for it. He could pass the buck upward and still be liked. He didn’t want to be the ultimate decision maker.
He just wanted to help the town he loved and have everyone love him back.
“You know something?” Dad offered a wide smile. “I think this is finally what you’ve been working toward since leaving Yale.”
A mint lodged in Cade’s throat. He coughed, nodding, even as his eyes welled. His father believed Cade had simply changed his mind about law to come home and pursue a career in small-town politics.
He didn’t know Cade had failed the bar. Failed the family name. Now he was expected to take this on? Carry the Landry legacy into another generation of glory?
What if he failed again?
No pressure.
“Here.” Dad tossed a bottle of water over the desk. “You okay?”
Cade managed to nod as he caught the bottle. He drank, chugging even after the mint had long left his throat. He needed to think. Why hadn’t he seen this coming?
“I have to say, I’m relieved.” Dad relaxed in his chair. “It’s much easier making this change when I know who is filling my shoes. I think you’re tailor-made for this position, son.”
Oh no. The approval in his eyes had shifted into pride.
Cade closed his own and went back to downing the water. How could he say no to the man who’d supported him when he least deserved it? Who’d protected the family name despite all of Cade’s immature hijinks over the years, who’d taught the value of a solid legacy? You’re a Landry, Dad had said in disappointment, scribbling a check to cover the cost of repainting Mr. Thompson’s shed Cade vandalized in seventh grade. You’re a Landry, when Cade had nearly gotten suspended in high school for allegedly fighting. Without Dad bailing him out, he’d never have gotten the good grades or gone to Yale.
Though, in hindsight, maybe Yale hadn’t been such a great thing.
Still, Cade owed him. He lowered the empty water bottle. Maybe this didn’t matter right now. The campaign wouldn’t start for several weeks, and no one was going to know until then. He still had time to figure out his life.
On top of everything he was trying to figure out for the town.
“Thanks, Dad.” Cade channeled his best smile, the one that had gotten him a lot of what he’d wanted over the years. He’d learned from the best, after all. He tossed the bottle into the nearby wastebasket. “Don’t worry, I’m a Landry. I won’t let you down.”
Though he was certainly not making any such promises to himself.
* * *
Time to find out about the weather report.
Rosalyn stood in line at Chug a Mug, eyes roving the chalkboard menu, inhaling the scent of fresh ground beans. She didn’t drink coffee often, preferred tea, but she loved the way it smelled. Reminded her of Saturday mornings with her father, back when life was a little more simple.
Would it be again?
The black, silver, and brass decor of Chug a Mug offered the illusion of cool, despite the climbing temps outside. Rosalyn fanned her face with one hand. The customer in line ahead of her hunched over his phone, the chimes of incoming texts ringing one after the other. Good grief, he should put that on silent.
Wait.
It was Cade.
She appreciated the opportunity to study him—the trim line of his back, the cut of his button-down shirt, the tailored pants cuffed above polished shoes. He was much broader than he’d been in high school, and still just as handsome.
Enough staring. She cleared her throat. “Great minds think alike, I suppose.”
He lifted his head and turned, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”
“Am I?” She crossed her arms over her tee, heart spiking at being the center of his focus. Also much like high school. But unlike his polished professionalism, she wore cutoffs, her hair swept up and looped in a bun—hardly worth his admiration. “And…didn’t you always have twenty-twenty vision?”
“You know, the term sore eyes doesn’t necessarily refer to one’s vision.” He moved up in the line, his grin widening.
“Idioms, am I right?” She snorted.
He held up both hands. “I should have just said ‘Fancy meeting you here.’”
“Well, that depends.”
Cade matched her stance, crossing his arms. “On?”
“Are you looking for a come-on line?” Oh, what was she doing?
“Well, now that definitely depends.”
She held his gaze, accepting the challenge. “On?” Oh man. Was she flirting?
He seemed up for it, his eyes shining like when he’d turn from the white board in geometry, confident of his dry-erase answer. “On whether you want one.”
She pulled in her lower lip, appreciating and regretting their easy banter all at once. Danger, danger . And yet?—
“Couldn’t hurt to try.”
Goodness, she didn’t even need caffeine anymore, the way he spiked her pulse looking at her like that.
But this was Cade Landry. He knew how to flirt with women. “I’ve got plenty of lines. Trust me.”
See?
“I don’t doubt it.” She raised a brow. “Didn’t you end up with two dates for the senior prom?” Oops. Hadn’t meant to go there.
He cocked an eyebrow, lowered his voice to a sobering tone as if ashamed. “Don’t hate the player, Ace. Hate the game.”
Her laugh burst free, the tension between them dissipated. Time for a subject change. She gestured toward the cell in his hand. “Heard your phone blowing up, Mr. Popular.”
Cade shook his head, turning the screen to show her a group text marked “Gone Fishing.” “It’s all the guys. We meet up every other week or so, fish from the same pier by the Blue Pirogue. They’re in rare form.”
She squinted, reading the texts.
Noah
Cade, you still coming tonight?
Linc
Ten bucks says he bails.
Noah
You used to say that about me.
Linc
In a weird twist of fate, you’ve become more reliable.
Ha. Rosalyn grinned up at Cade. “Do you bail a lot?”
“Been busy with Magnolia Days. They keep asking if I need to delegate anything to them, but…” Cade shrugged.
“Well, do you?” They moved up again in line. Almost Cade’s turn.
“See for yourself.” He held out his phone again with a smirk.
Cade
Why does everyone keep asking me that?
Linc
Because you’re literally putting on a circus by yourself.
Owen
Is it true about the poodles???
Cade
You’ll have to buy a ticket and find out.
Owen
Have you decided about the stilts yet?
Cade
Can you walk on stilts?
Owen
Yes.
Cade
Without falling?
Owen
…
She laughed. “I’d like to meet this Owen. Funny.”
“They’re good guys. Except when they dog me like this, of course.” Cade’s gaze drifted over Rosalyn’s shoulder to the bar. “Uh-oh.”
She turned. The dark-haired barista, wearing over-the-head earphones and a hoop nose ring, shimmied her hips and shoulders as she worked the milk frother.
“I’m assuming the weather report is…undesirable?” Rosalyn winced. She needed the pick-me-up if she was going to train today at Madame Paulette’s. “Bad mood equals good coffee, right?”
“Correct.” Cade lowered his voice. “Though lately, Miley seems to be in better moods more often than usual.”
Rosalyn leaned in close to whisper back. Kinda fun, being one of the locals again. “Maybe she got a boyfriend.”
Cade’s gaze held hers, a teasing spark lighting his eyes. “Is that all it takes to make a gal happy?”
That depended. Rosalyn’s throat went dry.
“Next!” The barista chirped.
Saved, she quickly ordered an iced matcha latte—decided to risk it anyway—while Cade ordered only a scone and gallantly paid for both their orders. They stepped to the side as Miley whipped up Rosalyn’s drink.
Cade leaned one hip against the counter. “Big plans today?”
A boring question after their flirting, but definitely safer. She remembered the text messages and shook her head. “I was going to warm up on my silks, but now I think I’m going to come help you.”
“Help me?” He frowned. “Why?”
“With the fundraiser.”
Cade stiffened. “That’s nice of you to offer, but like I told the guys, I can handle it.”
“Oh, come on.” Rosalyn leveled him with a stare, probably the same one she’d given him freshman year when he claimed he could be the first to solve the bonus points algebra problem. “There’s got to be something you can take off your plate and dump on mine. I’ve got room.”
She could see the battle in his eyes, but then he hesitated. “Maybe you could make some of my confirmation calls. Like for the porta-potties and poodles.”
“Pretty sure that sentence has never been uttered in the history of language, but sure. I can make calls.” She grinned at him. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”
“Here you go!” Miley reached over the counter and handed Cade a pastry bag with a curtsy, which seem to confirm his decision to pass on coffee.
She handed Rosalyn her latte next, then danced back toward the cash register. Rosalyn tried to hide her smile. Maybe she had found love.
Must be nice.
“Here goes nothing.” Rosalyn took a cautious sip as they moved toward the napkin station. She licked her lower lip to catch the foam. “Not bad.”
“You missed a spot.” Before she could process what he meant, Cade reached over and gently wiped her cheek with a napkin.
Her skin tingled under his touch. The grinding of espresso beans and the chatter of fellow patrons faded to the background as she stilled.
Cade took a breath.
She might not be breathing at all.
Their gazes remained locked until a warning signal flashed through the haze. Danger, again. This was still Cade , after all. Apparently, a few days in Magnolia Bay could make her a teenager again, secretly giddy over Cade Landry.
He must have gotten the same radar blip. “Sorry.” He quickly backed up a step. “I should’ve asked?—”
“No, it’s okay. I didn’t want to be walking around town with a mustache.” She grinned, though her shaky hand belied the breeziness she infused in her tone.
He crumbled the napkin and moved to throw it in a trashcan. “Remember that time you had spinach in your teeth for Mrs. Swanson’s entire fourth hour class?”
On the other hand, maybe she’d imagined the whole chemistry thing. He was just strolling down memory lane now. “Oh, I remember.” She swatted playfully at his arm, knocking his aim askew as he went to toss the napkin. “Everyone said that’s why Justin Davies said no to being my date for the ‘Girls Ask Guys’ spring fling.”
“Actually, that’s not why.”
“What do you mean?” She took another sip of latte—which really wasn’t great—and frowned at him over the lid. What did he know?
Cade drew a breath. Did he regret bringing it up? “Justin Davies said no because I’d threatened him.”
She lowered her cup. “ What ?” Just in time, she remembered to swipe her own face with her wrist for leftover foam.
“I overheard him in the locker room during gym. Justin had heard you were going to ask him and he was bragging about plans for after the dance.” Cade shrugged, a bit of red flushing the base of his throat. “So I made sure he understood that accepting an invitation from you would be…let’s say, painful.”
Her chest warmed. He had tried to protect her?
Avoiding her eyes, Cade started to pick up the wadded paper on the ground, but Rosalyn stopped him with a touch on his arm.
“Let me get this straight.” She let her hand fall. “You threatened to beat up Justin Davies if he came on to me?”
Cade rocked back on his heels. “Well, technically, I had Simon LeMoine ready to beat Justin up.” He smirked. “Simon was a linebacker. It made more sense.”
Rosalyn released an incredulous laugh. “You went to all that trouble? For me?”
The red at his throat deepened as he fiddled with his pastry bag. “It was nothing.”
But she couldn’t let it go that easily. “It was definitely something. I thought you barely tolerated me.”
“Only when you beat me.” He winked.
She lifted her chin. “Well, that was all the time, so…”
“Ha, ha.” He rolled his eyes. “You weren’t so bad—when you weren’t listening to Amber’s all-men-stink speeches, anyway.”
She opened her mouth, then closed it. He had a point. And still…“She was right about a few things.”
“Maybe. Regardless—” Cade picked up the napkin and took aim once more. This time, it landed easily. “Let’s just say I’ll always have your back, Ace.”
Rosalyn swallowed, trying not to be affected by the secret he’d kept, by the chivalrous way Cade opened the shop door, ushered her through first as they filed outside.
He’d have a lot more than her back if she weren’t careful.
It’d be way too easy for him to have her heart.