Page 18 of No Place Like Home
What else had Elisa said to her?
“Thanks for walking me to my car.” Rosalyn pulled the door shut behind them. “I didn’t mean to stay past dark, but Elisa wanted a demonstration once we got my silks rigged. I lost track of time.”
“No problem. I’m sure you’d be safe here in the Bay—it’s not like the big cities you’re used to now.” Cade stepped back to give her room to lock up.
“Well, never hurts to be careful.” Rosalyn checked the handle to make sure the door was locked, then slipped the key into her purse. She was on edge…maybe it didn’t have anything to do with him personally?
Overcome with the urge to make her smile, reclaim their banter from the golf cart that day, Cade nodded his head back toward the studio as they headed for the sidewalk. “Ever going to give me a lesson on those things?”
She shot him a sidelong look, illuminated by the streetlamp above, and his heart stammered…And not from that espresso he’d thrown back in Chug a Mug a few hours ago.
Then a grin emerged on her lips and he internally pumped a victory fist. “You wouldn’t be able to handle it.”
“Me?” He pressed a hand against his chest.
“I didn’t stutter.”
“I can do anything.”
“Except beat me for valedictorian.”
Yes. The banter was back. He shook his head in mock chagrin. “You flirting with me, Ace?”
“Right. I wouldn’t even know what that looked like.” She snorted.
So the idea was too far-fetched to imagine?
She slowed her pace, clearly favoring her knee. “Elisa and I saw you on the phone. Seemed like an animated conversation.”
And there was the subject change. He’d much prefer the flirting. “The call didn’t go great, honestly.”
Rosalyn met his gaze as they continued down the street to her car. She was definitely limping, so he slowed their pace another notch. “You’re so convincing. I remember that whole vending machine campaign at school like it was yesterday.”
He remembered a lot of things like they were yesterday, especially back alley near-kisses. But he knew better than to bring that up with the guard she had locked and loaded. “I guess I should switch my goal away from production crews and back to packaged junk food, then.”
“What happened?” A gentle summer wind teased Rosalyn’s loosely tied-back hair, sending strands fluttering against her cheeks. “Were you talking to the production company, like Elisa guessed?”
Speaking of the movies. If anyone had star potential, it was Rosalyn. She’d clearly made a name for herself in the aerial arts industry, but she would light up a film like a firefly on a dark night. Even more reason to convince the crew to come back during Magnolia Days and check out the circus. They didn’t realize what they’d be missing.
He looked back down at the sidewalk so he wouldn’t trip in the increasing darkness. “Yeah, I was trying to walk off my espresso after working at the coffee shop, and the assistant to the producer I connected with a few years ago called me back mid-lap around the block.”
How had he looked, pacing the sidewalk as he pleaded with Janie to convince her boss—his social media “friend” who apparently didn’t want to take his call—to send a scout to the Bay?
It’d come to that—begging.
“And?” Rosalyn pressed.
“I worked my magic but only got a halfhearted commitment for a return phone call from him tomorrow.” He shrugged, as if it didn’t matter. But it did—a lot. “Not very promising.”
She squinted at him. “But it wasn’t a no.”
He nodded slowly. “It wasn’t a no.” That was one way to look at it—the hopeful way, which was something he’d been losing track of lately in the throes of fundraising. It was hard to keep his normally positive outlook with this much pressure riding on his success.
They walked the rest of the way toward her car in companionable silence, as if talk of his failure had somehow lowered Rosalyn’s guard.
It was too overcast and early in the evening tonight for stars, but the crickets provided a full chorus from the shadowed bushes along the sidewalk. He thought of that boat scene inThe Little Mermaid, where all the wildlife banded together to urge the prince to kiss Ariel.
Not that he needed a singing crab to give him that idea.
