Chapter 7
seven
W orking with this knee limitation was almost like having to learn aerial all over again. Sweat beaded on Rosalyn’s forehead and dripped down her temples.
As the late afternoon sun crept across the dance studio floor, she carefully lowered herself into a fist to angel drop, an upside-down move she’d flown into without hesitation hundreds of times. But discovering which moves pulled her knee was slow going. She’d have to design her circus routine around the skills she could do confidently—which meant she’d be offering a lower caliber than her typical performance.
All the more reason why she didn’t need Cade or anyone else in town talking her up and setting unrealistic expectations.
How could she save the town if she couldn’t even save herself?
Rosalyn swallowed as she repositioned herself into a French climb, wrapping one foot around the fabric and then releasing and repeating as she gained air. The earlier conversations spun through her mind, also gaining traction.
Why hadn’t Cade wanted her to know he’d seen her perform? He’d changed subjects faster than—well, as Lettie used to say—“faster than a stage mom braiding a ponytail.”
And then the discussion about the old bet he’d never followed through with. Her cheeks heated. They’d definitely been flirting, which wasn’t fair to either of them. Harper’s invitation to stay at the library a while had been a rescue. The more Rosalyn hung out with Cade, the more she forgot all her reasons not to flirt with him.
But he wasn’t safe, and she wasn’t free.
Rosalyn twisted her hands into the silks, pausing to rest her knee. She and Harper had chatted for half an hour, filling each other in on the last decade. Apparently, Amber and the other girl in their group, Gabby, had gone separate ways after graduating and never returned to Magnolia Bay. Harper, who’d moved back after graduating, kept up with them on social media, unlike Rosalyn.
“We comment on each other’s posts now and then,” Harper had said. “That’s about it. Amber is single. Has several degrees and a lot of cats. Works remotely for a big firm out of New York.”
“What about Gabby?” Rosalyn almost hated to ask. Gabby had been sweet, if not a little ditzy, blindly following Amber’s lead. But hadn’t they all, to some extent?
“She’s divorced, two kids.” Harper’s lips twisted to the side. “Works in marketing in New Orleans and has become something of a social media influencer.”
Of the four of them, only Rosalyn and Harper were living their original high school dreams—Harper as an aspiring novelist, working around books all day, and Rosalyn as an international performer.
Yet had any of them actually found happiness?
“Careful up there darlin’. You don’t actually have wings, you know.”
Rosalyn looked down at Lettie standing underneath her, hands propped on her ample hips. “Oh, I know, trust me.” Her knee twinged on cue, as if reminding her of her fall. Not that she ever forgot. She slid down the silks to the ground, fireman-style, and was met with a wave of patchouli.
Lettie wrapped her in a hug as soon as Rosalyn’s feet touched the mats. “I’m just too glad you’re home.” Before Rosalyn could respond, the older woman abruptly released her and held her at arm’s length. “Even if your legs would make Carrie Underwood jealous.”
“You’ve got pretty great gams yourself, Lettie.” Rosalyn winked as she stepped back toward her fabric.
“Tell that to my ex-husband.” Lettie crossed her arms over her flowing tent-dress. “Not that’d he ever admit it. He can’t agree with any woman, mind you.”
Rosalyn tried to hide her smile as she wrapped her wrists into the silks. “His loss.”
“Indeed.” Lettie lifted her chin. “Any secret lovers in your life, hon?”
She snorted. Secrets, yes. Lovers? Not quite…She inverted into a candlestick position. “Now, Madame, you know I’m married to my career.” Literally, at this point.
Lettie let out a loud burst of laughter. “Pity. You’ll have to make room for someone eventually, darlin’. The stage won’t keep you content forever.” She released a dramatic sigh. “Ask me how I know.”
Rosalyn’s smile faded as she split her legs into a straddle. Her knee held steady, and she breathed a sigh of relief. “You’re a gem. Any man—or the stage—would be lucky to have you.”
Lettie cackled. “You always were my favorite. Any chance of you sticking around this time? Maybe teaching aerial?”
That would’ve been her dream retirement, back in the day. To come home and open her own studio or take over for Madame Paulette? But now…She swallowed, gripping the silks tighter and splitting her legs the other direction. “Not this time, Lettie.”
Breathe in . Split. Breathe out . She used to hate conditioning skills when she was younger. She’d wanted to perform. Wanted to prove herself to her mom, wanted to show that leaving ballet had been the right decision. Now Rosalyn would give anything to avoid the spotlight.
Funny how life worked out.
Lettie watched her with crossed arms. “The good news is, unlike me, you’ve got time on your side, dear. And prospects.”
Breathe in. Split. “Prospects?”
“A certain young town development director seemed quite taken with you yesterday.” Lettie dramatically bounced her hips like Ursula in The Little Mermaid .
“Cade?” Rosalyn sputtered. Her grip slipped and she caught the fabric in a fresh hold. “We’re old friends.”
“He wants to be more, trust me.” Lettie moved toward the supply closet near the mirrored wall and slid out a box of exercise bands. “And no, I was never a psychic. I get asked that a lot, though, when I go to the French Quarter.” She straightened and stared at her scarf-layered, bejeweled reflection in the mirror with a frown. “I can’t imagine why.”
Rosalyn clamped her lips to keep from laughing as she came down from her inversion. “It’s a mystery, Lettie.” As for the idea of Cade truly being into her, well…the thought brought butterflies.
And a giant red flag.
Make that butterflies waving giant red flags.
Across the studio, Lettie shut the closet door. Rosalyn unzipped her bag and pulled out her warm-up tee.
“How long has that knee been bothering you?”
Rosalyn tugged the shirt over her head and checked her watch. Almost time for the six-o’clock class. “Is it that obvious I’m not one hundred percent?” She’d taken the bandage off, and thought she’d hidden her slight limp.
“It doesn’t take a psychic to see the difference in your work, darlin’.” Lettie gestured toward the silks knotted in the center of the room. “I know when one of my students is holding back. Even if you haven’t been my student for a few moon cycles.”
“A few.” Rosalyn grinned back, unwilling—unable?—to tell her the details about her fall. “Thanks for watching out, Lettie.”
“Always, my dear.” Lettie pursed her burgundy-painted lips. “There’s more to this story, though, isn’t there?” She squinted, her narrowed eyes reading Rosalyn like a novel.
Rosalyn stilled.
“You’ve lost something.”
Good grief, maybe she was psychic. Rosalyn nodded, unwilling to lie—not anymore than she already had to.
“Well, we don’t have to talk about it—now.” Lettie tossed Rosalyn an exercise band. “Want to help the kiddos stretch? Show them a move or two?”
Rosalyn caught the pink elastic and stared down at it. Kids could see through people even faster than Lettie. How could she project joy into a demonstration when she hadn’t felt any since her tumble?
Since before then, if she were honest. Since Saudi Arabia…
The rush of hot desert air swept over her memory and she clamped her eyes shut.
The spinning tent. The roar of the crowd. Her panic, tangible. The scratchy sheets of the hospital bed, the metal rails cold against her restrained arms. The panic in Blaine’s eyes as he relayed their limited options.
She wrenched her eyes open. “I, uh—” She inhaled, gulped. “I don’t think that would be?—”
The studio door opened, and a rush of pink leos and tiny bun-heads flooded the room. One of the girls, a little blonde wearing a white tutu, froze on her way to the barre and gaped up at Rosalyn. “Are you Barbie ?”
Rosalyn choked back a cough, the child’s innocent assumption blessedly removing the coming wave of tears. “I’m not, actually.”
“You could totally be Ballerina Barbie.” A dark-haired girl with a braided bun chimed in, elbowing the red-headed kid next to her. She sported a temporary tattoo of a unicorn-cat on her arm. “Can we call you that?”
She smiled, giving in and realizing she didn’t mind at all. Maybe there was still joy to be found in the studio—vicariously through these kids, at least. “Whatever you want.”
“Sit by me, Barbie.” Little Blonde tugged at her hand.
The redhead grabbed Rosalyn’s other one. “No, me.”
“Duh. She has two sides.” Braided Bun rolled her eyes.
“Everyone, take your places at the barre.” Lettie’s deep voice easily overcame the sudden din. “And no fighting over the dolls.” She winked at Rosalyn. “Welcome home, darlin’.”
The word rolled around Rosalyn’s mind as she took her place with the younger girls. Home .
Did people who ran away to join the circus ever get that back?
* * *
Staring out at the bay reminded Cade what was at stake.
Home. Sun-tinted waves lapped the pier overlooking the sparkling water beneath him. Somewhere in the distance, a seagull let out a squawk, while the familiar, unmistakable scent of salt water filled the air. He breathed in a drag of it. He loved this town, loved this dock. It had long been the guys’ favorite fishing spot, only about half a mile from the Blue Pirogue Inn. So far this evening, he’d been the first to show up, which was perfect.
Gave him time to process the day’s myriad mistakes.
Cade pulled a drink from the ice chest and caught his reflection in the aluminum. He fixed a piece of wayward hair that blew across his forehead and spoke to his distorted image on the can. “You’re an idiot.”
His reflection looked back, unfazed. He took the opportunity to check his teeth. He’d made things weird with Rosalyn at the library, and in front of Mama D, no less. And all afternoon in his office, he’d shuffled through his Magnolia Days list and accomplished way more daydreaming than actual tasks.
He needed to get it together. The town was counting on him. But something about Rosalyn intimidated him, much like it had that night at the Lazy Spoon, watching the moonlight paint her face as they’d talked in the alley for what felt like hours.
Maybe Cade had accidentally acquired two dates for senior prom, but Rosalyn was—and would always be—out of his league. She didn’t need him. She didn’t seem to need anyone.
So why would she want him?
“Your hair is fine.” Linc’s scowl suddenly appeared in the can beside him. “Geez, I didn’t think we’d invited any women.”
Cade cracked open the can, taking time to form a wide smile, hide the embarrassment. “And that statement, my friend, is why you’re single.”
Linc snorted as he dropped his gear on the dock. “I highly doubt it.”
Cade quirked an eyebrow. “Well, I could give you a few more reas?—”
“Now, children. Let’s get along.” Noah set his tackle box near the cooler. Owen hurried along the pier behind him, flip-flops slapping the wood. A fishing pole bobbed on his shoulder.
“Cade was giving himself a pep talk.” Linc slapped his shoulder, jostling Cade’s drink. He held it away from his Rhoback shorts.
“What’s up?” Owen set his pole down, then looked around and winced. “Oops. I forgot to bring bait again.”
“Help yourself.” Linc opened his own tackle box. Owen reached for a lure and Linc lunged. “ Not that one.”
Owen grabbed a green lure from the opposite side of the box and waited for Linc’s nod before straightening. “So what exactly are we hyping you up for, Cade?”
“I bet I know.” Noah fished a drink from the cooler, then propped his sandaled foot on the lid. “Did someone decide to ask out a certain blonde aerialist?”
“Aerialist? Like a pilot?” Owen frowned as he fiddled with his line.
Noah shook his head. “No, think circus performer.”
“Like they do in Cirque Du Soleil?” Owen gestured above his head. “That’s impressive.”
“And dangerous.” Linc baited his line.
Noah snorted. “Since when do you care about danger? I’ve seen you standing in the bay during a thunderstorm.”
Linc shrugged. “When you gotta work, you gotta work.”
“Can’t work if you’re dead,” Owen pointed out.
Linc scowled.
“I sure feel dead.” Noah stretched his neck to one side, then the other. “But the upstairs renovations are finally done and the inn is starting to get booked.”
“Probably largely due to Elisa’s recent social media efforts.” Owen joined Linc near the edge of the pier with his pole. “She’s making the Blue Pirogue look good.”
“She makes everything look good.” Noah grinned back before turning up his drink can. “Now if I can get all the rooms booked…” He tipped his head toward Cade. “Hint, hint.”
“Magnolia Days will bring in plenty of tourists, trust me.” Cade relaxed as he rigged his own bait. As always, the guys had talked themselves into a new subject, so maybe he’d be off the hook with the Rosalyn stuff. The last thing he needed was them trying to pressure?—
“Back to asking Rosalyn out.” Noah cast his line into the water.
Cade suddenly felt a lot like Linc—grumpy. “Don’t hold your breath.”
“What happened to long tanned legs and country songs?” Linc smirked as he reeled in his empty line.
“Who is Rosalyn?” Owen abruptly turned, forgetting he was holding his pole, and nearly clocked Linc in the ribs. He corrected and dodged the glower Linc sent his way. “Is she the aerialist?”
“Famous aerialist.” Noah arched a brow. “You don’t remember her from high school?”
“I home schooled, remember?” Owen shuffled a few feet away from Linc. “If they didn’t attend youth group, I didn’t know them.”
“She didn’t. Her family was more Christmas and Easter churchgoers.” Cade had secured his bait a minute ago, but messing with it again gave him a reason not to look up while he talked. “Then she graduated and went to Harvard.”
The rest of the story burned in his throat. Which was silly. Was so long ago.
“Is this week the first time you’ve seen her since high school?” Owen asked.
“No. I saw her perform a while back, which gave me the idea to invite her.” See? Not hard to say. Why couldn’t he have been that nonchalant about it with Rosalyn earlier? Cade shook his head. “And I ran into her after a rival game at the Lazy Spoon back in college.”
He also said that nonchalantly, as if the memory wasn’t burned in long-term storage.
“What happened? Did Rosalyn shoot you down that night?” Linc cast, the lure sparkling in the setting sun as it arched through the sky.
“No.” Cade watched the fishing line sink, the bobber start to float. “I never asked.”
“So what I’m hearing is that you were as dumb then as you are now?” Noah snorted.
“Easy for you to say, Romeo.” Cade glared at his friend. “You’ve got Elisa.”
“Romeo?” Noah shook his head. “Nah. You were the one with two prom dates.”
“How did you even know that? You were living in Shreveport then.” Literally no one would let him live that down. “Besides, it’s not like I took both girls. I thought one girl had said no, so I asked someone else, and then…” Well.
“ Something happened at the Lazy Spoon.” Linc cut his eyes to Cade.
He sighed. Leave it to the hulk with a man-bun to notice what he’d hoped the guys wouldn’t. “It’s not a big deal. I just saved her from a jerk with the wrong idea.”
Owen’s eyes bugged. “You got into a fight?”
Cade hesitated. “Sort of.” It’d been a little one-sided. His jaw still clicked now and then when a storm was coming. “He wasn’t taking no for an answer from Rosalyn. So I politely tried to talk him down. He got in a sucker punch. Then some of my friends jumped in and then his friends jumped in…I snuck Rosalyn outside, away from it all. Then we talked in the alley, caught up.” The words had been on his tongue. Wanna get out of here? Or maybe something less cliché than that.
“Talked, huh?” Noah grinned as he reeled in his line.
“Yes. Talked . Maybe had a…moment, or whatever. But that was it. End of story.” The details, though, the ones he wouldn’t share with these guys, were permanently seared in his brain. The humid night air and smell of the dumpster—that part maybe he wished he could forget—but mostly the way Rosalyn’s hair shimmered under the security light beaming from the side of the building and the feel of her fingers grazing his jaw as she pressed her cold mug against the bruise forming on his cheek.
“Ironic, isn’t it?” She’d rolled in her bottom lip but couldn’t stop the grin.
“What? This?” He reached his hand up to cover hers, help support the mug.
“Yeah. Us.” Green eyes sparkled up at him, a far cry from frustrated and competitive. “I’m used to us always being on the opposite team.”
He nodded. “Leave it to a bully in a bar to bond Magnolia High’s top students.”
Her return smile was contagious. “We were that, weren’t we?”
They’d caught up for ten minutes and talked future plans. She’d just been invited to attend a prestigious aerial college and was debating making the transfer. Leaving Harvard wasn’t an easy decision, but neither was saying no to a lifelong dream.
Cade could almost forget the throbbing in his jaw with the way she’d looked at him, opened up to him. Viewed him as a friend, an equal—not a rival. Not Mayor Landry’s son. Not the butt of her friends’ jokes and hate, the guy to roll her eyes at.
Just Cade .
He could almost forget the struggle of that past year at Yale, his grades hovering right above failing. Could almost let go of the fear that welled up every time he thought about his father finding out, about failing his entire family tree full of successful Landrys.
The threat of the bar hanging over him.
“Are you ever going to come back to Magnolia Bay?” he’d asked, hoping she couldn’t tell how his hands shook.
Her gaze had been downright flirty, and he didn’t think it was from her one beer she’d only drank half of. “Would it matter?”
He could flirt too. Even though that night, he felt more tongue-tied and adolescent than smooth and charming. “It might.”
The wind had lifted her hair from her neck, cooled the sweat on his back. Breathed hope into a raw spot. “Then I might.”
Thump . Owen popped open the cooler lid, interrupting the memory. “What kind of moment?” He cracked open a can of sparkling water.
Cade had almost kissed her, almost got the guts to see what that ‘might’ tasted like on her lips. But…
“Doesn’t matter. That wretched Amber girl interrupted, like she always did in high school. Came to drag Rosalyn off with their crew.” Cade rolled his eyes. “She even called Rosalyn out for being with me. Like they were freshmen all over again.” Dumb. It didn’t take much to remember Amber’s dark eyes spitting fire at him, as if he were solely responsible for every male mistake since Adam in the garden.
“And that was that?” Noah asked.
“That was that.” Rosalyn hadn’t stuck up for him. Just shot him an apologetic look and half-smile and let them drag her off. “Didn’t see her again until she appeared in my office a few days ago.”
Guess that “might” hadn’t held a lot of weight.
“Too bad. You seemed like a good fit—even way back when.” Noah gestured to Owen still at the cooler. “Toss me one?”
Owen obliged, missed. The can hit the dock and rolled toward the water.
Linc stopped it with his boot. “What do you mean, back when?”
“Sixth grade.” Noah braced his pole against the dock and opened his drink.
Cade sighed. “Here we go with the volcano again.”
“You guys had sparks.” Noah took a swig.
“That was the vinegar.”
Noah nearly sprayed his water. “I doubt that.”
“So, to clarify, he’s not asking Rosalyn out, right?” Owen shut the lid and sat on top of it.
“Unfortunately.” Noah lifted his can in a toast. “Though I can guarantee you Elisa won’t let up as easy as we are.”
He could go for a Snickers right now. Cade took a deep breath. “It’s not in the cards. Rosalyn is only here for Magnolia Days and her family, then she’ll be back to whatever globe-hopping schedule famous people have.”
“Long-distance relationships exist.” Owen shrugged.
So did his overflowing plate of responsibility. Cade held up one hand, imitating his father in a press conference. “Right now, I’m focused on getting through Magnolia Days and then my camp?—”
Oops. They couldn’t know about the campaign. No one knew the position was about to be open.
“Your what?” Owen asked.
Cade pointed to the water on the horizon. “Wow, what was that?”
Shockingly enough, all three of them actually looked.
Cade cracked his neck and took a deep breath. His game was slipping, on all fronts—and too much was at stake. Being friends with Rosalyn was one thing, but the flirty nature of said friendship should stop. People were getting the wrong impression.
Most of all, him.
Cade carefully schooled his features into a puzzled expression as the guys turned back. “Must’ve been an illusion.”
Sort of like the idea of a future with him and Rosalyn.