“He was right behind me.” Rosalyn faced Cade, her shoulders tense beneath his hands.
“Who?” He slid his hands down her arms, catching her fingers. She held on. “Who was?”
“This man, in a hat.” She drew a shuddered breath. “I think he followed me from the library.”
A man? Cade pushed past her to the glass front doors of the complex. He stepped outside. No one.
He turned back to Rosalyn, searching her face. Trying to understand what she wasn’t saying. “He’s gone.” But was he ever there? Maybe Cade wasn’t the only one stressing lately, fighting panic attacks.
Rosalyn nibbled her lip, wrapping her arms around herself as she slowly joined him outside. “Maybe I was paranoid.”
Cade feigned seriousness. “Must have been a really bad hat.”
She didn’t smile. “He was in the library, and then he was behind a tree, watching me. When I saw him, he came toward me, but I ran the last block here.” Her gaze searched the streets, mostly empty during the lunch hour save for a few dog-walkers.
“Come on. Let’s talk.” Cade took her elbow, led her to a bench nestled in a grove of trees near the office complex. She didn’t protest, and it was then he realized she still clutched the paper she’d gone to the library for under her arm.
He tugged it free. “I see this made it unscathed.”
She smiled, finally, and his heart cheered. Victory. She surrendered the laminated paper. “Like a roach in a nuclear bomb.”
He tossed it on the bench next to them, draped one arm behind her. “Spill it, Ace. Why did a man in a hat scare you so badly?”
She pressed her fingers against her temples, took a deep breath. “This is embarrassing.”
“Probably not as embarrassing as his hat.”
Score. Another smile.
She met his eyes then, spotty shadows speckling her face as the tree branches overhead interrupted the sun. “I think I overreacted.”
“That’s okay. But something is making you scared. Suspicious.”
Her emerald gaze left his and moved past him, looking at something behind him. She washed pale. “There he is.”
He turned in time to see a man—yes, in a really bad fedora—quick-stepping down the sidewalk toward them.
Cade quickly stood, positioning himself in front of Rosalyn. “Can I help you?” He didn’t even need Simon LeMoine. The adrenaline, topped with the desire to help Rosalyn, to be what she needed, gave him enough confidence to take down the entire Magnolia High football team.
Plus, the guy was scrawny.
The man drew close enough for Cade to see he was maybe ten years older than them. He wore a wrinkled button-down and a sheepish expression and carried a camera. “I’m so sorry. I think I frightened you, Miss Dupree.”
Rosalyn’s hand landed on Cade’s back as she stood, moving to his side but not fully away from his protection. “Do I know you?”
He stopped a respectful distance away, took off the fedora. “Name’s Albert Wally. I work for the Pelican in Jefferson Parish.” Gestured with his camera. “Heard you were performing in the Cajun Circus and wanted a photo.”
Paparazzi.
“Oh.” Rosalyn’s sigh escaped, slowly, like a leak from a balloon. “The newspaper.”
Well, maybe she was relieved, but Cade was annoyed. “Dude, you followed her? Then came out of the bushes at her?” He took a step forward—Simon LeMoine would’ve been proud—and glared. “That’s nuts, man.”
Albert backed up, hands raised “I’m sorry. Candids get better page time. But she saw me, so I thought I’d explain who I was. Not a creeper or anything.” He shrugged, pink swiping his pale cheeks. “I haven’t worked this job long. Not very good at it yet.”
“Maybe consider a different profession.” Cade crossed his arms over his chest. “Like one where people give you permission to take their picture.”
“I’ll prove I don’t have any saved.” Albert extended his camera, fiddled with the buttons. The lens cap fell off and hit the ground, and he groaned.
