The afternoon sun that seemed to have wilted the potted plant in its path warmed her legs. She’d acquired a barefoot, crisscross-apple-sauce position in the chair opposite Cade’s desk, papers strewn across her lap. The AC from the vent above blew across her cheeks. It felt right being here—like they’d been a team for much longer than a few hours. They’d grudgingly worked together at various times over their years at school, but always toward individual goals.
The collaboration was nice. And a good distraction from the consuming question marks about her future.
“I’ll bug them in a few hours if I don’t hear from them.” Cade fiddled with a pencil on his desk. “Like Dad always says, the squeaky wheel gets the grease.”
“You’re hardly squeaky or greasy, Landry.” More like smooth and charming. But she wouldn’t say that, wouldn’t let his head get any bigger or risk more unnecessary chemistry revealing on her part.
This time she didn’t have to look up to feel his grin.
“So you don’t see me as a hamster. That’s good to know.”
His pencil tapped a rhythm. “How’s that cross-checking coming along?”
Rosalyn marked another line. “Everything matches up so far.” She was making sure all the registered vendors for the Magnolia Days had paid their deposit. “But this one for Big Al’s Porta-Potties has an asterisk?”
“Yeah, the city is paying for those. Just need to confirm the dates with Al.” Cade rocked forward, his feet thumping on the floor under his desk. “I’ll do that now, actually. I keep forgetting.” Then he hesitated, one hand resting on the landline receiver. “Thanks for doing this, by the way. I hate that I’m keeping you from your workout.”
“It’s no problem. I’ll get to it later.” The idea of practicing completely alone in Lettie’s studio didn’t hold the appeal it would’ve even a year ago. Laughing at Cade’s candy wrapper trash and quirky organizational tactics, however, held plenty.
Or maybe, like she suspected of Cade, she didn’t want to admit the inevitable—they werebothin over their heads.
“The last time I saw you surrounded by colored pens and highlighters was senior year study group.” Cade unwrapped a package of Twizzlers.
“Man, I haven’t thought about that study group in a while.”
Cade offered her one of the red roped candies, and she shook her head. He pinched off a bite. “You bet me you’d win valedictorian.”
“What were our stakes, again?”
She remembered. But wanted to see if he did.
“If you lost, you said you’d sticky-note bomb the principal’s office.” Cade wrinkled his nose. “Still lame.”
“It was the most daring thing I could imagine myself actually doing in that situation.” Rosalyn laughed. Even now, she wasn’t sure if she could’ve actually gone through with it. She’d been on the Principal’s List all four years of school, and while a lot of the kids didn’t like Principal Davies, she’d respected him.
Which was why she couldn’t go through with the senior prank either.
Cade pointed his Twizzler at her. “I think you only agreed to the bet because you were confident you’d win.”
“That too.” She returned his smile. “You know, that reminds me…”
“That I lost?” He took another bite of licorice.
She shrugged, turning her attention back to her paperwork. “You never paid your penalty.” Her heartbeat accelerated. Oh, this was a bad idea. Had she learned nothing from the coffee shop?
“I didn’t, did I?”
His casual tone was either a massive put-on, or he hadn’t thought about it over the years like she had. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know which. After all, Cade was Cade, which meant all flirt and no follow through. Hadn’t she seen him break the hearts of half the cheerleading squad and most of the dance line?
She might’ve added herself to that list, if not for Amber and Gabby and the rest of her group reminding her men weren’t worth it.Grades before guys.Or, as Amber said in sixth grade—college before cooties.
Rosalyn tossed back her hair and slid the highlighter across the next line, trying to match Cade’s breezy tone as he went back to tapping a pencil. “Only Cade Landry would’ve bet kissing the winner if he lost.”
He paused mid-tap. “Maybe because that would’ve made me a winner too.”
Rosalyn’s stomach flipped and her hand trembled. Wait. He’dwantedto kiss her? She’d always taken it as a joking insult—it was a penalty for losing. Yet another way to tease her in their competitive dynamic. He’d never brought up the bet again after their scores were announced, and neither had she. She’d been updating college resumes and writing her speech for graduation.
She cleared her throat. “Prince Charming called. He’d like his lines back.”
