Page 61 of Burning Hearts
Lila’s celebrity planner had been holding dates across half the Southeast for months, and this trip was about crowning one ballroom the winner.
Beck blew out a breath. “Perfect. The first man I notice in three years shows up with a maybe-Monroe wedding, my hotel on the line, and his own security detail.” His gaze stayed locked on Rhett. “That’s not a crush, that’s a full-scale project with chiseled cheekbones.”
I raised an eyebrow. “What do his cheekbones have to do with?—”
But I was distracted by my phone buzzing with an email from Signal House; a new Location Addendum. Final sign-off for the Riverfield storefront we’d fought for when we could have run back to Atlanta. The role of Executive Producer was already on lock for me, and my equity had started vesting. I added my signature onto the document as I stood on the sidewalk. I felt the ping that meantdoneand tucked my phone away.
I let the calm under my ribs expand.
We belonged here.
Cade appeared at my elbow.
“Hydrate,” he said, holding out a bottle.
Not a question.
Our fingers met on the plastic, a light scrape of fingertips that rocketed my pulse.
I took a long pull from the bottle. Cade watched my throat, just for a moment.
“I’m not great with speeches,” he said, low enough that it slipped under the band. “I don’t have the perfect words. I have facts.”
He held his eyes on mine. “Fact one: I love you.”
My lungs forgot to function for a moment. The street, the music, the crowd all went blurry.
“Copy,” I said, the only answer that didn’t dull the moment. “I love you, too.”
His thumb tapped the bottle once like a quiet promise. The parade flowed back in around us. Music threaded through the Commons, kids chased bubbles, and somebody’s dog tried to sing along with the brass section.
Near the sponsor wall, Beck lifted the cake knife like it was part of a coronation. Tansy angled herself toward the nearest phone, already finding her light. Beck didn’t wait for direction.
“Keys to a chore,” he said, voice steady but not showy. “We’ll take care of this place. Staff, guests, building, all of it. If we’re doing it right, y’all will only notice that it feels good to be here.”
The little crowd around us cheered.
“Give me this over fireworks any night,” Cade said, low enough that it was meant for me.
Across the Commons, Beau cruised by with his portable speaker like a one-man parade.
“Riverfield, you look sensational!” he shouted. “If you’re going to fall in love, do it where the camera can see you.”
Every phone within twenty feet tilted as if he’d issued a command. Beau had blown past a million followers in three months. Some days it felt like he owned the town for thirty seconds at a time, and he was generous enough to share.
Miss Pearl slipped through the edges with a tray of lemonade, refilling cups and hearts at the same time.
“Drink up,” she said as she came close to us. “It’s hot work, being proud of each other.”
Cade and I smiled.
The band struck up their song, and the first float—a battery romance display—rolled by. Miss Pearl saluted it.
Wyatt stood near the barricade with a to-go coffee, watching the floats roll past. When Brickyard’s banner came into view, he gave Cade a small nod and went back to watching.
Brickyard’s crew across the street applauded the band between songs, then went back to the hard work of opening a brewery.
Beck edged closer as another float cleared the turn. “Did that man really just say ‘protection’ and then walk away?”
