Page 48 of Confusing Cade
“That’s true.” He looked at the clock on his phone, which was on the charger next to his bed. “Have you been downtown at the farmers market lately?”
I shook my head.
“Want to go?”
“Sure, but like this?” I glanced at my robe and laughed. “Can we stop at my apartment so I can change first?”
“Absolutely, let’s go.”
I switched back into my outfit from the night before as Cade jumped in the shower. He reemerged several minutes later in a pair of dark jeans and a white T-shirt. And God, it was a sight to behold. This was the kind of man I suspected would look good in anything and certainly looked great naked, but the way the crisp white shirt played with the flecks of gray in his hair nearly made me come undone.
“Jesus,” I managed. “Do you know how hot you are?”
Cade walked over to me and pulled me in for a long kiss. “We should probably leave now,” he said against my mouth. “Because if we don’t walk out of here soon, I’m going to throw you back in that bed and lick your pussy until you scream.”
“Please,” I begged. “Do it.”
He kissed me one more time. “Oh, I will. But we should probably get some air first. And some food.”
Cade drove me to his office to collect my car before we swung by my dilapidated apartment. I rushed inside to shower and change, wanting to keep myself in his presence for as long as possible. As I pulled on my wide-leg jeans and buttoned my black vest, I kept marveling at the turn of events in the last twelve hours. We’d gone from enemies to lovers in the span of a few heated conversations, and while the pace of that would normally make me pause, for some reason, I was more trusting of it than ever. I wanted to see this relationship through.And I will.
The farmers market downtown was technically known as The Green Market. It was an extravaganza of food and artisan crafts that popped up every Saturday in West Palm Beachduring the fall, winter, and spring, winding through downtown to the Intracoastal Waterway waterfront. The market was often featured as a “must-do” in magazines and online guides, but until recently, I didn’t have disposable income, so I’d never allowed myself the pleasure of wandering the stalls and making impulse purchases.
Cade parked in a lot near the southern entrance of the market, and as we got out of the car, he insisted that I feel as free as I wanted to buy anything I liked. “I’m sure you need some artesian tomatoes, kale juice, and a few handmade clay coffee mugs,” he said, wrapping an arm around my waist as we walked the final steps to the edge of the event.
“Oh I do,” I replied. “My stash of hand-thrown mugs could use a few new editions, so I’m relieved you’re giving me the green light.”
He laughed, getting my joke about the reputation the market had for offbeat finds. We walked into the festival area, which already teemed with people, even though it was hardly nine, and the market had barely opened. The shutdown streets were awash in color and fervor as people moved from coffee stands to florists to gardening products and farm-fresh produce. Cade insisted we try the spinach and apple cold-pressed juice from a stand a few feet from the entrance, then sprang for lattes at one a few more feet away. When I laughed and pointed out we already had our coffee fix, he said the beans came from one of the best coffee growers in India and I had to try them.
He was right. The heavenly aroma told me he’d made an excellent choice before I even took the first sip.
“It’s amazing,” I said. “How did you know about them?”
“They’re tenants in one of my buildings.”
I nodded.Of course.
“They started out with a little mobile coffee truck, then expanded so much that eighteen months later, they were desperate to find a storefront.”
He began walking in the direction of Flagler Park, where the market’s centerpieces were located. I followed, thinking about how comfortable I already was with him. Yes, perhaps some of that was because we’d been intimate with each other, but I also felt like most of it had to do with the way we seemed to just fit together. Was it our shared history, including losing our parents relatively young, that made talking to Cade so easy? He wasn’t a billionaire real estate mogul to me. He was just Cade. The once-lanky enemy with the stunning eyes who I had always avoided.And now he was...I have no idea what.
“Maybe I should start a fashion line,” I said, feeling creative in the wake of so many small businesses around us. “Something simple. Like scarves.”
He stopped walking. “Scarves?”
“Silk ones, maybe,” I replied. “They’re timeless.” I tossed my now-empty coffee cup into a nearby garbage can. “My last check from FanZone hits next week. And since Lilly’s all taken care of at school, I think I can scrape some off the top and maybe use that as seed money.”
He took my hand. “Let me know if you need some help with your business plan and stuff like that.”
“I appreciate it.”
The farmers market buzzed around us, a vibrant mosaic of colorful stalls under the warm South Florida sun. Vendors hawked fresh mangoes, artisanal cheeses, and handmade soaps, their voices blending with the laughter of families and the distant strum of a guitarist busking near the entrance. Cade's fingers intertwined with mine felt like an anchor, steady and reassuring as we strolled past a row of organic vegetable stands,the earthy scent of heirloom tomatoes mingling with the salty breeze from the nearby ocean.
We paused at a booth overflowing with jars of local honey, the golden liquid glinting like liquid sunshine. I picked up a small sample spoon, savoring the floral sweetness, but my mind was already spinning with ideas.Maybe I could get a booth here one day to sell my scarves... or do a collaboration with one of these other vendors...
As we continued down the aisle, a flower stand caught my eye, its vibrant blooms spilling over wooden crates like a living painting. Roses in deep crimson, sunflowers standing tall and proud, and... wait, peonies? Their fluffy petals, soft pinks and whites, looked impossibly fresh, as if they'd been plucked from a spring garden rather than a midwinter Florida market.
Cade must have noticed my gaze lingering because he tugged me gently toward the stand. “Hold on,” he murmured, releasing my hand to approach the vendor, a weathered woman with a kind smile and dirt-streaked apron.
