Page 32 of Burning Hearts
Sunday was alwaysa reset for Riverfield.
The Commons stretched itself awake. A band playing gentle jazz, pastry boxes being carried around. Everyone acting as if they’d been ready the whole time. Cast Iron came to life behind me with the sounds of sheet pans and the song of the coffee grinder. I had a to-go cup and a roll of tape.
Cade was already there.
He stood at the southwest curb cut with his hands in his pockets. He was counting without moving his mouth at all. Trash cans, stroller lanes, and places panic invites itself. He looked up once, our eyes met, and it landed like we’d both agreed to show up early and not discuss it.
“Morning,” I said, because manners are free.
“Morning.” He tipped his chin at the curb. “We’ll lose that lane by ten if we don’t widen now.”
“Copy.”
I kept moving. Power run for the mini riser, the sponsor wall.
“Need hands?” he asked from just close enough to help and just far enough to behave.
“I can fight gravity,” I said. “Well… usually.”
He didn’t smile, as if he were a man who considered gravity a challenge.
Beck arrived like weather—quick and visible. He was wearing a custom-tailored shirt with The Langford Hotel embroidered on it. He set a placard on an easel near the sponsor wall.
“Morning,” he said. “Let’s keep cords married to the skirts and our smiles plastered on.”
“Working on it,” I said.
Beck scanned the square. “Text me if anyone tries to import applause,” he added, already moving.
Beck was an Operations Director with a last name that could start a fight and, mercifully, stop one.
I reached up to strap a banner, flipped the buckle, and tugged. It spat the strap back like we were playing a game, and I was losing.
“Half-hitch,” Cade said, suddenly there. He didn’t touch me until he asked, “Here?”
“Yes,” I said, attempting to grant permission to a knot, not to his hands.
He stepped in behind me, reached around, and guided my hands through the motion.
“Thumb here,” he said. “Wrap it once, then feed it under. Pull back to yourself.”
His breath grazed my ear onyourself.
The knot shifted into place as if it’d finally been convinced to comply.
I stared at the obedience I hadn’t earned.
“Capability is intriguing,” I said.
“It’s timely,” he said with a smile, and stepped back faster than he’d moved in.
We pretended to like distance for a moment. I tightened the second strap like I’d been born knowing how to do it. Cade did aslow sweep. Fountain, hotel doors, sky. Exits. My producer brain took notes, the rest of me forgot how to exhale.
“Heyyy content goblins,” Beau sang, materializing in a denim jacket and sunglasses that would be illegal on a weaker face. His cameraman hovered; lens already live. “Give me one comment before the town remembers it’s wholesome.”
“No fire safety myths,” I said.
“Adorable,” Beau approved, then to the lens: “Battery romance only. Feelings later.”
