Page 59 of No Place Like Home
“That’s fair.” Rosalyn’s voice grew quiet. “Reputations are hard to build and easy to lose.”
Cade let out his breath and sped up as he neared the exit for the causeway to Magnolia Bay. “Don’t worry, Miley, your secret is safe.”
Rosalyn stiffened beside him, and he gave her a sidelong glance before reluctantly mouthing the wordsyours too.
Her shoulders relaxed. But tension still creased her brows, probably the same tension that shot up his neck and into his temples.
How had they gotten here? Seemed like five minutes ago they were making out, the future bright, the concept of a “them” finally in reach, and now…Rosalyn was in the passenger seat but might as well be a million miles away.
Worst part was, he couldn’t even stay mad.
Because he already missed her.
“I can offer you both free coffee as a return favor for the secret.” Miley hesitated, rapidly spinning the black bracelets on her arm. “As long as my dad isn’t there, of course. He doesn’t like me giving discounts.”
“I don’t mind buying my own coffee. But do me a different favor?” Cade met Miley’s gaze in the mirror, taking in the smoky eye shadow, the shiny nose ring. “Think about the fact secrets cause more problems in the long run. It’s not worth it.”
She squinted. “How so?”
“Because secrets make you have to hide.” He held her gaze, fought the urge to look at Rosalyn. “Or worse, run away.”
Both women in the car fell silent.
They cleared the bridge and wound their way toward Village Lane. Cade cracked his neck to one side, but the tightness in his upper body remained.
He was such a fool, thinking Rosalyn had been into him. She didn’t need him. Oh sure, she—and apparently every other female in the Bay—needed him to keep their secrets. But something wasn’t adding up with her story, which led Cade to believe there were more secrets still.
Which meant whatever the other secrets were had to be worse than being secretlymarried.
Which meant Cade had been a distraction for Rosalyn, at best. A placeholder or rebound, at worst.
He glanced in the rearview, at his own flushed face and pinched expression.
At this point all he needed was a big red nose, and he’d be the perfect addition to his own circus.
thirteen
“There’s a pothole in my front of my diner.”
Cade spun in his chair to face Delia, who stood framed in his office doorway. Her posture seemed straighter above her cane today, her purse hitched on the shoulder pad of her floral blouse.
He let out a sigh. Talk about a Monday. He’d been working for hours on fundraising details and hadn’t had enough coffee yet to deal with more bad news—even if Miley had upsized his latte with a zipping of her lips, like she’d done every morning since she got busted in New Orleans last week. “It’s not your diner anymore, Mama D.”
“Magnolia Blossom will always be mine in spirit, dear.” Delia sank into the chair across from his desk. “And speaking of spirits, I’m afraid some are going to float up from the depths of that hole if it isn’t fixed soon.”
“It’s from the hurricane flood waters.” Cade scrubbed his palm over his cheek, then winced at the rough texture under his hand. He probably should’ve sprung for that designer men’s lotion he’d seen advertised last night. If this fundraiser gave him one more wrinkle or gray hair…
“I don’t care if it’s from a séance gone wrong.” Delia pursed her ruby-red lips and fanned herself with a paper she’d snagged off Cade’s desk. “It’s a liability. They’re popping up all over. Have you seen the one in front of Chug a Mug? It looks like it could?—”
“House a family of four?”
Delia shrugged, tossing the paper back into the tray it’d come from. “I was going to say operate as a small B&B, but your description fits too.”
He reached for a pen. “I’ll add it to the list, Mama D.” What was one more entry, at this point?
“I appreciate it.” She started to stand, then gave him one look and settled back in her chair. “What’s wrong?”
“Oh, nothing I can’t handle.” He scribbledpotholeon a sticky note and deliberately added it to the stack of invoices, vendor lists, and projection spreadsheets covering his desk. “There. Happy?”
