Page 24 of No Place Like Home
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 termsore eyesdoesn’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, nowthatdefinitely 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.”
