Page 47 of No Place Like Home
“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 aweddingin 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 mustnotbe 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?
