Chapter 10
ten
A fternoon sun dotted the sidewalk in front of Rosalyn, streaming through the tree branches bordering the crowded streets of the French Quarter. Clearly, the rain hadn’t reached New Orleans—she should’ve grabbed her sunglasses like the ones Cade had tucked into the neck of his shirt. At least her clothes had finally dried.
Cade crumpled wax paper in his hand as they ambled through the French Quarter. “I can’t believe you turned down homemade fudge.”
“I can’t believe you ate three pieces of homemade fudge.” Should she tell Cade about the chocolate still dotting the corner of his mouth?
Cade shoved the paper back into the pastry bag. “I could have gone for four, but didn’t want to seem greedy.” On the corner up ahead in Jackson Square, a man fully painted as a bronze statue posed, unmoving, as tourists tossed bills into the coffee can near his feet. The faint sounds of a saxophone drifted on the wind.
Rosalyn drew a deep breath, convinced the scent of chocolate lingered in her nose. “You said this was supposed to be sampling of the chocolate fountain for Magnolia Days, not second lunch.” The specialty chocolate shop smelled divine, like the Garden of Eden had saved a little something back. But breaking her strict performance diet after several weeks of limited training would’ve been the worst timing. Resisting had been delightful torture.
Sort of like the entire hour-long car ride to New Orleans with Cade, where he’d played early 2000 hits and they swapped more stories from high school.
“You don’t know what our next stop is.” Cade offered an exaggerated grimace as he tossed the bag into a nearby trash receptacle. “Just remember I tried to give you chocolate first and you refused.”
She held back a grin as they neared the towering St. Louis Cathedral. Children shrieked as they chased each other around the splashing fountain in Jackson Square. The strains of jazz music grew louder, and the scent of cinnamon pecans wafted from a street vendor. “I’m not afraid.”
And she wasn’t—of Cade’s next errand or anything else at the moment. Funny that she felt safer here, despite the city boasting a significantly higher amount of crime than Magnolia Bay. For the first time in weeks, she could walk freely without wondering if she was being watched from parked cars or corners of buildings. A carefree needle in a haystack.
Cade tossed a coin into the fountain as they passed it. “Maybe you should be a little nervous. I know I am.”
“Me, nervous?” Well, maybe her high-alert status never fully went away. But it was definitely lowered—not that that was what Cade meant. “You obviously forgot what I do for a living. Silks, ten feet in the air?” Rosalyn teasingly knocked her hip into Cade’s to punctuate her point. He stumbled a step.
“Careful. You almost made me take out that tarot card stand.” He leaned closer to her ear in an exaggerated whisper. “And then how will we know the future?”
She chuckled, glancing over her shoulder at the red umbrella offering shade for a folding table littered with cards. “I already knew my immediate future post-circus.” She sobered slightly. Barring a miracle, anyway.
And since she hadn’t even prayed for one, it seemed that much more unlikely to happen.
“Hang on.” Cade led her off the busy pavement, around a family in matching We Heart NOLA T-shirts, toward the cathedral entry. The giant church rose above them, three imposing spires stretching toward the cloud-dotted, cerulean sky. A sign stating Closed for Nuptials stood beside the sturdy wooden door. “That didn’t sound good. What’s up, Ace?”
She shouldn’t have said anything. Secrets were getting harder to keep from Cade.
She waved a dismissive hand in the air. “I just have some commitments I’ve got to fulfill after the circus.”
“Commitments I take it you’d rather not fulfill?” Cade crossed his arms over his chest, studying her.
“Something like that.” More like she’d prefer to get a root canal than keep working on this debt that had turned her from a free-flying aerialist to a bird in a cage.
“At least you get to see cool places, right?”
“Right.” Desert sand and white hospital sheets filled her mind. She blinked them away. Cade didn’t understand, and she couldn’t make him.
“I always loved traveling, but these past several years, I don’t know…” Cade shrugged a little. “I guess I’m turning into Dorothy.”
Rosalyn frowned. “Dorothy?”
“You know…there’s no place like home.” He clicked the heels of his loafers together and flashed a wide grin.
“Ha.” Rosalyn tilted her head back, squinting against the afternoon sun as she looked up at Cade. His stubble had grown since lunch. How could one man look equally handsome with a shadowed beard and clean-shaven? “I guess that makes me the Wicked Witch then—living in a foreign land?”
“That depends, Ace.” He removed the sunglasses from his shirt and carefully slid them onto her face. “Own any flying monkeys?”
Rosalyn smirked. “You’re the one trying to hire dancing poodles, right? That’s pretty close.”
“Guess that makes you a munchkin, then.” He draped an arm around her shoulders and abruptly turned her toward the cathedral doors. “Better go spend some time talking to the big guy behind the curtain.”
“Cade!” She snorted as she protested entering the church, pushing back against his grip and laughing. An elderly couple holding hands looked over at them and smiled. She lowered her voice, spinning around in his arms. “They’re having a wedding in there.”
He hadn’t let go of her, and she’d placed herself right up against him, her folded arms sandwiched against his chest. Heat surged between them, a wave that had nothing to do with the June sun trekking toward the horizon. Her stomach flipped.
“See?” Cade’s grin sobered a little as his palms slid free of her arms. She immediately missed the contact as he shoved his hands in his pockets and eased a step back. “It’s not so bad—being friends with me.”
She licked her suddenly dry lips, grateful her eyes were hidden behind his dark shades still perched on her face. “That’s the problem.”
“Eh, problems.” Emotion flitted through his gaze, too fast for her to identify. He cocked his head to the side. “I’m way more interested in solutions.”
Rosalyn raised her eyebrows as her heart pounded an unsteady rhythm. “You flirting with me, Landry?” She mimicked the question he’d asked her, back in Lettie’s studio her first night in town.
“Me?” He tugged the glasses off her face and slid them back onto his own before he answered. “I wouldn’t even know what that looked like.”
* * *
Everything was hotter in New Orleans. The pavement under Cade’s loafers. The humidity in the air, which lacked the gulf breezes of Magnolia Bay.
The chemistry between him and Rosalyn.
He shook the remaining ice in his water glass as they sat at Backwater Bruno’s outdoor patio, people-watching and attempting small talk that did little to defuse their close encounter at the cathedral. Or the attraction in their banter as they strolled around town, ducking in tourist shops for Magnolia Days door prizes, stopping by the rental company to confirm their massive order for tables and chairs, calling to check on the dancing poodle status.
Rather, Rosalyn had made the call. Cade had been too busy trying not to keep his eyes from shooting red hearts every time she laughingly tried on a purple sequined hat…or when she dropped change into a homeless man’s coffee can…or when she lit up watching a street artist paint a couples’ portrait.
At this point, Cade was terrified to take off his sunglasses and let Rosalyn see his eyes—hence his offer to sit outside even though the temps had climbed and sweat dripped down his back.
Would it be more effective to dump the melting cubes directly over his head?
He leaned down in the iron chair and pretended to straighten the cuff of his pants, taking the opportunity to drop the just-friends smile he’d attempted to hold the past half hour and relieve his tired jaw. His quest to kill two birds with one stone today—knocking out Magnolia Days errands and putting his friendship with Rosalyn back on solid ground—had utterly failed. He definitely hadn’t accepted friendship as their fate. If anything, he’d discovered the portal to falling for Rosalyn and all but jumped through.
Fortunately, as a politician’s son, he had a lifetime of experience at masking the obvious.
He sat up.
“Why are we here again? I have a feeling it’s not for the tea.” Rosalyn stirred a straw in her glass of unsweetened iced tea.
“Wait and see.” Cade checked his watch. Was it merely hours ago he’d caught her crying in the rain outside Magnolia Blossom and nearly kissed her in his car? Nearly kissed her at the cathedral too, when she’d spun into him that way.
Cade flexed his fingers. His arms still felt the curve of her waist, the press of her hands against his chest. He’d tamped down the urge to flex under her touch. To be strong for her.
To be what she needed.
He must not be what she needed, even when it came to friendship, because Rosalyn clearly wasn’t telling him everything. It seemed she owned more secrets than athletic wear right now.
Were they about the guy on the phone who made her cry?
“You’re making me nervous, Landry. Spill it already.” She’d ditched her cropped hoodie earlier, leaving a sleeveless leotard that showed off her toned arms and jogger-style yoga pants. Her hair had been coaxed into a ponytail so high it made him think of Saved by the Bell reruns and geometric neon patterns.
He rested his arms on the table. “You like Cajun food, right?”
“Crawfish, of course. Shrimp.” She tilted her head. “Are you about to feed me gumbo?”
He grinned. “Something like that.” At least he wouldn’t have to do this part alone. Adventuring with Rosalyn made everything better.
As if on cue, a waiter bustled up to their table, allowing a rush of AC to drift after him through the slow-closing swinging door. “Here we are. Frog legs for two!” A steaming dish appeared on the table between them.
Rosalyn went slightly pale, then flushed pink as she leaned forward and inspected the fried delicacy. A cup of orangey-red sauce sat to the side. “Frog what ?”
“Legs, ma’am.” The server, wearing a backward cap and jeans under his waist apron, nodded. “Bruno’s specialty. Y’all need anything else?”
“A different lunch?” Rosalyn whispered.
Cade bit back his laugh. “We’ll be fine.” Maybe. He unrolled his paper napkin, motioned to the one near Rosalyn’s hand as the waiter rushed off. “Try one?”
Her flush deepened. “Am I being punished?”
Cade leaned forward. “Bruno wants to bring his frogs to Magnolia Days. I told him I didn’t think that would fly with our customers, but he insisted I try some first. On the house. So…” He spread his hands over the plate. “Here we are.”
Rosalyn eyed him, then the splayed frogs, warily. “You go first.”
“Fine.” He drew a breath and cut off a bite, trying not to think too hard about it. Popped it in his mouth, grateful for the crispy batter hiding the rest of the texture. He chewed. Squinted. “Tastes like chicken, honestly.”
She snorted. “It does not .”
“You tell me.” He nudged her fork closer to her.
Rosalyn eased back, clutching her tea glass. “I’m vegetarian.”
“You just admitted you liked shrimp and crawfish.”
She took a sip. “Pescatarian, then.”
“Lucky for you, these guys swim. Close enough.” Cade nudged the plate closer and she all but squealed.
“That doesn’t count.” Rosalyn curled her lip.
How was she cute even while disgusted? Cade distracted himself with the Cajun sauce on the side. Mmm, tangy. “Here, try it with this.”
She narrowed her eyes. “If I have to mask the flavor with a stronger flavor, what’s the point of eating it?”
Okay, that was actually valid. Cade leaned back, wiping his fingers on his napkin. “What is your favorite food, then?”
“It doesn’t swim, I can tell you that.” She still looked wary, as if at any moment one of the frogs might don a top hat and start singing. “I like margherita pizza. And cheesecake, on the rare occasions I break my macros to have any.”
Cade took another bite, but this time, the sauce did little to compensate. “Okay, this can’t happen.” He dropped the remaining leg on the plate. “I don’t think anyone will want to buy these at the festival.”
“You tried.” Rosalyn inched the plate a little farther away from her. “And I provided excellent moral support.”
“You’re a big chicken, is what you are.” Cade tossed a straw wrapper at her.
“So pizza, huh? What about your favorite color?”
“Um, pastel pink. Or lavender. You?”
Your eyes. He cleared his throat. “Green.”
“Don’t think playing twenty questions is going to make me try any of those frogs.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
She quirked her lips at him, looking way too much like she had their junior year, when she’d hold her report card in his face, tapping the GPA in the bottom corner, and taunt him about their race to valedictorian. “My turn. Favorite genre of music?”
He folded his hands behind his head, elbows braced wide. “Hip-hop.”
Rosalyn grimaced.
“Don’t judge—you should try it when you’re working out.” He grinned. “Think of it like an audible energy drink.”
She scrunched her face. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“What’s yours?”
“I listen to a lot of classical.”
“Of course you do.” Cade snorted.
She sat up straighter. “Now who’s judging?”
“Well, I suppose no one’s perfect,” he joked. But good grief if she didn’t come incredibly close. “Okay, here’s one. What about your earliest memory?”
“Earliest?” Her brow furrowed as she took another sip of tea. Two motorcyclists roared down Decatur Street, their exhaust lingering over the patio. “I’m not sure. What about you?”
“When I think back to childhood, I see all these fragile things I was never allowed to touch. Tea sets and porcelain dolls.” He wrinkled his nose. “And a bunch of suits and fancy dresses crowding the living room after I was supposed to be in bed.”
“Let me guess.” Rosalyn grinned. “You weren’t in bed.”
“I usually waited up, hoping our housekeeper would sneak me some of the leftover cookies.” Cade laughed.
“Let me guess again. She did.”
“So I was maybe a little spoiled. Though not in the way Amber always made me seem.”
“Oh, Amber.” Rosalyn shook her head and sighed. “Don’t let her get to you.”
He didn’t anymore—usually. “You sure always listened to her.”
“Amber was…infectious.” Rosalyn sighed. “She’s so passionate about what she believes, she makes you start to think you believe it too.”
Yeah. Like about what kind of guy he was. But high school was so long ago—it didn’t matter now, right? He was here.
With Rosalyn.
He cleared his throat. “Your turn.”
“Let’s see.” Rosalyn rolled in her lower lip. “Maybe this isn’t my first memory, but I do remember completely ignoring the swing in the backyard tree my dad had been excited about. I tried to climb the rope it hung from, instead, and touch the top branch.” She shook her head. “Mom freaked out, told me that was dangerous.”
“And here you are now, climbing things for a living.” Cade liked this game. “What about your happiest memory?”
“My first aerial lesson when I was eleven.” She didn’t hesitate. “I sat in the hammock—that’s the apparatus everyone starts on—and spun circle after circle.” The sun was still out, but Rosalyn’s grin could have lit the night. “I inverted on my second lesson and was hooked.”
Cade rocked his chair back on two legs. “I don’t know what that means, but it sounds impressive.”
“Hammock is a continuous loop of fabric, rather than two individual silks. Each of the silks are called poles.” She held up a finger. “Not to be confused with pole dancing. That’s a different sport.”
He chuckled. “And inverting is just going upside down?”
She nodded. “You could take a lesson sometime. Learn firsthand.”
“I’d love to, except I hear there’s no aerial studio in Magnolia Bay.” He tsked . “Maybe one day, a beautiful, famous aerialist will happen upon the Bay and teach me.”
“Ha.” She stirred her tea faster. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Landry.”
And he was trying to get somewhere, wasn’t he? Bad idea.
“So what’s your happiest memory?”
He should’ve expected the return question. And no, he couldn’t answer with “seeing you walk into my office the other day.”
A server showed up to bus their table and Cade nodded his thanks, taking the opportunity to consider.
Then as the guy ambled away with a tub of plates, Cade knew. “I think I was maybe thirteen? I went fishing with my dad. He let me take a sip of beer if I promised not to tell Mom.” Cade chuckled. “It was disgusting and I immediately spat it in the bay. Dad laughed so loud.”
Rosalyn smiled softly. “That sounds fun.”
The memory washed over him, bringing the scent of salt water and sunscreen. “I didn’t have to try to be ‘on’ that afternoon, and I didn’t feel like he wanted me to. It was just us. No reputation to protect, no family name or legacy to safeguard.” Cade’s tone dropped. “We fished and hung out, no work allowed.” It’d been a rare afternoon—one that never got repeated, unfortunately.
“That’s nice.” Rosalyn’s voice trailed off, and she stared at something over his shoulder he knew wasn’t there. She was looking into time, and he desperately wanted to go with her.
“What is it?”
Rosalyn blinked, her gaze registering back on him. Cade held her gaze, waiting. Hoping she’d realized he could be trusted.
Just when he’d about given up, she spoke. “Like you, I was loved and spoiled…but I was also taught to ‘hide my crazy.’ Going into aerial was a big deal for my mom—she hoped it was a stage that would pass, but she got proven wrong immediately.”
“Well, sure.” Cade settled back in his chair. “After all those rope climbs and inversions.”
“Exactly.” Rosalyn smiled, then it faded. “Listening to you talk about your dad made me remember this one day…I’d been doing aerial about six months. I came downstairs to show Mom my sparkly leo for my upcoming recital. She was outside with her garden club friends. I didn’t realize and burst out onto the patio. The women asked about my costume, and as I excitedly started to explain about the hip key skill I’d mastered, I saw the look on my mom’s face.” Rosalyn’s expression sank, and for a moment, Cade glimpsed the young girl she’d been.
“One of the ladies—I only remember she had bright red hair—said, ‘Rose, I thought you said she was taking ballet.’”
Cade grimaced. “Uh-oh.”
“Mom had to spin a quick tale about how aerial has elements of ballet in it and this lady must be confused. When the women cast each other these amused glances and made these behind-the-hand whispers, I realized Mom hadn’t told them. I think she was embarrassed about my choice to quit ballet and start aerial instead.” Rosalyn bit her lower lip. “Maybe embarrassed about me too.”
Cade reached out, took her hand. Her fingers closed into his. “I’m sure that wasn’t it.”
“Trust me, that’s only one entry from my teenage journal.” Rosalyn laughed. “I decided I had to get good, fast, to make her proud. And I did.” She pursed her lips. “But I’m not sure she ever was.”
Her fingers were soft and chilled against his warmer ones. He squeezed a little tighter. “But she supported you, right? You said she drove you into New Orleans for lessons for years until you got your license.”
“Well, yeah. But she had to.” Rosalyn shrugged. “I’m sure it was mostly obligation at that point.”
Cade hated the lost look in her eyes. “What made you start ballet in the first place? Was that something your mom wanted you to do?”
“Yeah, I was introverted as a kid. Content to stay in my room and read to my stuffed animals.” She shook her head with a laugh. “Mom was a social butterfly, with all her garden clubs and fundraising committees. I think she thought I needed to be like that…needed ‘real friends.’”
“So she dragged you to ballet?”
“Kickin’ and screamin’—internally, at least. But I wanted to please her, so I didn’t actually put up a fight.” A small smile claimed her lips. “Then I met Lettie and I really tried to like ballet, because I liked her so much.”
“But it still didn’t stick.” Cade nodded.
“I told you I wasn’t good at it. We had a recital, and my mom was so excited—gosh, she spent so much money on my hair and makeup, new slippers, the works.” Rosalyn winced. “And I totally bombed.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“There’s video evidence somewhere, if my mom bothered to save it.” Rosalyn snorted. “Trust me, it wasn’t pretty. I had horrible balance. I pirouetted right into another girl. I was the worst in the class.”
“So you quit because you weren’t the best?” He tilted his head.
“I didn’t think of it like that.” She rolled in her lip. “But yeah, I guess so. I was used to being good at school, and then one day that didn’t seem like enough anymore.”
Interesting. “You must have been immediately good at aerial, then?”
“It was a better fit.” She lifted one shoulder. “Maybe I was more motivated to fly.”
“Certainly seems that way.” Cade leaned back in his chair. “So we covered favorite music, career choices—what about faith? I don’t think you went to Magnolia Grace much growing up, huh?”
“On holidays, mostly.” Rosalyn nodded. “Sundays were about resting from whatever society events we had over the weekend. Most of my Sundays were spent practicing aerial or reading outside.”
“We didn’t go every week growing up either, though more often than not. I think my parents were going through the motions back then.” Cade shrugged. “You know, making appearances as a politician. But I sense in recent years their faith has become more genuine.”
Rosalyn hesitated. “I’m still trying to figure all that out. Lately I want to pray more but feel like I need to get my life in better order first.”
His chest warmed at her honesty. “I get it, trust me. But I don’t think that’s how that works, Ace.”
She raised her eyebrows.
He should be honest too. It was only fair. “I struggled for years to not equate God with my father—you know, needing to be capable, impress him. To represent my namesake well.” Cade swallowed. Should he tell her? Aw, might as well. “For example—I still haven’t told my dad I failed the Louisiana bar. He thinks I never took it, just changed career paths on my own.” He winced.
“You failed the bar?” Rosalyn’s eyes widened. “I’d have thought you’d pass that in your sleep.”
“My score was about as good as if I’d been asleep, that’s for sure.” He snorted. “I might try again one day, but…”
She nodded firmly. “You totally should.”
Or not. He shifted in his seat. “My point is, I’ve come a long way, and I still struggle with the whole ‘works’ thing. Pastor Dubois preaches on the topic a lot, which helps.”
“I should come to a service.” Rosalyn’s eyes softened. “That sounds nice.”
It did. Really nice.
“So, what’d you think?” A Cajun accent suddenly sounded over their table, shattering the moment.
Cade forced his gaze away from Rosalyn to the pot-bellied man with sun-darkened skin, a hair net, and a full-body length apron standing over them with a smile. “Think?”
“Of the frog legs, of course.” He clapped his hands together so big, Rosalyn jumped.
“Oh, I’m sorry ’bout that. Bruno Guidry.” He shook Cade’s hand, then Rosalyn’s. “Pleasure, sha .”
“Great place you got here.” Cade nodded, hoping Bruno wouldn’t see the unfinished frogs on their table. Then again, if he did, maybe he’d get the hint without Cade having to spell it out.
“Thank ya. Worked hard, for sure.” The burly man nodded once. “So what was the verdict?”
“Um.” Cade looked back at the plate still on the table, then at Rosalyn, who widened her eyes slightly in silent encouragement to tell him the truth. “They were…they were something, all right.”
“I knew it! What’d I tell you?” Bruno clamped a beefy hand on Cade’s shoulder and patted him twice. “Best in the state.”
“Can’t argue with that.” Because he’d never had any others, but…details.
Rosalyn glared at him.
“So I’m in, then?” Hope shone from Bruno’s eyes as he backed away a step, big fists clenched at his chest. “We can have a spot in Magnolia Days?”
How could Cade say no? If Bruno didn’t sell many frog legs, that wouldn’t be Cade’s fault. Of course, if he came, that meant taking up a spot another vendor wouldn’t be able to fill…
He glanced at Rosalyn, then back at Bruno’s fist-clenched anticipation, and released a sigh. “You’re in.”
Bruno let out a whoop. “ Mais, yeah . You’ll not be regretting it.”
Cade already regretted the look Rosalyn was still giving him. He watched as Bruno gathered their dirty dishes. “How did you hear about Magnolia Days, anyway, up here in New Orleans?” Maybe some of his advertising had actually paid off.
“Oh, that comedian that comes in. Sha , she’s a funny one.” He shook his head with a tsk . “Can’t get her to try the frogs, but she’ll nab a beignet now and then before a show.”
“Comedian?” Cade tilted his head. “I’m not familiar. But hey, I’m glad word is spreading in different circuits about our festival.”
“She’s got a show going now, if I’m not mistaken.” Bruno pointed down Decatur. “Right down the way, few blocks. Came in for a tea and dessert a bit ago, before you folks arrived. Go check her out.”
“I’ll have to do that.” Cade stood, and Rosalyn did the same, adjusting her ponytail. “Nice to meet you in person.”
“See you at the festival.” With another hearty clap on Cade’s back, Bruno took the dishes and whisked back inside.
“Why didn’t tell you him no?” Rosalyn immediately asked.
“It’s not that easy. Did you see how happy he was?”
Rosalyn pushed her chair under the table. “But you know he won’t sell much. That’s not doing him any favors.”
“Probably not. But…” Cade shrugged, checking his back pocket to make sure he still had his wallet. “Maybe the good people of Magnolia Bay will surprise us.”
“I hope so.”
Thunder boomed. Cade jerked. He and Rosalyn both looked up as the gathered clouds parted and giant raindrops began to pelt their empty table. “Looks like that storm from the bay made it here after all. Want to make a run for it? Or wait it out inside?”
Rosalyn glanced over her shoulder at the restaurant, then back up at the sky. She shot him a grin. “Race you.”
Cade watched as she took off through the patio gate, ponytail flopping. Man, he hated running. Yet, as he futilely attempted to stop the smile stretching across his cheeks, he realized something perhaps even more detrimental than unsold frog platters.
Bruno Guidry wasn’t the only person Cade couldn’t tell no.