Page 17 of Second Chance at Sunshine Inn

Great. Just great.

Well, Cade had had his fill of her, just as Caroline had had her fill of going through Alana’s personal effects. He would keep their discussion short and sweet.

Caroline climbed into the car, and Everleigh waved goodbye.

Once Caroline’s Subaru was gone, the redhead spun toward him. “Cade,” she began, her smile bright, “we can work this out.”

“I’m not selling. End of discussion.” He started toward the front door. “You can take the Jeep.”

“Just wait a minute, okay?” She pulled a folded postcard from her pocket with a Realtor’s name on it, and he stopped moving. “Surely we can find a buyer we agree on.”

A muscle ticked along his jaw. She needed to leave. “I’ll open the garage for you.” Without waiting for her response, he stalked toward the front door, and her shoes flapped as she chased after him.

“Wait, Cade. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he muttered, continuing out the back door and down the sidewalk.

She caught up to him, and they walked side by side down the path leading to the three-car garage.

“When are you going back to work?” he finally asked her.

“Not until Alana’s affairs are settled.”

“Fantastic.” Was he going to be stuck with her for weeks or even months? He would have to convince her he was not going to sell the inn, then hopefully they could stay out of each other’s way until she left.

He noticed her smile never faltered. Didn’t her face hurt from smiling so much?

“Tonight I’ll start researching, and I’ll find us the best Realtor.”

“Knock yourself out, but I’m not selling.” He punched in the code on the keypad. The double garage door hummed as it lifted.

“Is the code 0325?” Everleigh’s eyes widened.

He nodded.

“That’s my birthday.”

“Not surprised,” he commented.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

He gave her a look of disbelief. “Alana talked about you all the time.”

“Oh.” She gave him a solemn expression, then turned toward Alana’s gray late-model Jeep Grand Cherokee. “She loved her Jeeps.” She scanned the garage, her eyes roving across his workbench and woodworking tools as she pulled the keychain from her pocket. But then she made a beeline for his bike. “Is this your motorcycle?”

“Yup.” He remained by the door while she circled his black Harley-Davidson.

“It’s really pretty.” She turned toward him. “What kind is it?”

“A Harley.”

She pointed to it. “Is it a certain model?”

“A bobber.” When her brow creased, he explained, “I took off the front fender and shortened the rear fender. That’s what ‘bobbed’ means.” He made air quotes with his fingers. “Like a bobtail cat.”

She continued to look confused. “Why would you do that?”

“Makes it lighter and faster.”

---