Earnthem.
“I rode the biggest slide at the water park!” Violet cheers, adjusting her swimsuit strap. “And I wasn’t even scared. C.C. took me!”
“C.C.?” Shay stiffens when she finds me, those pretty lips pressed into an unreadable line. “Cade.”
I plop my hand onto Violet’s head. “What have I told you about running away, Vi?”
Her eyes drop to the ground. “That it’s not safe because weirdos are everywhere. But I know Shay, and she’s nice! Not a weirdo.”
“Correct.” I ruffle her chlorine-soaked puffs. “Hi, Agent Shay. Whatcha doing in Clear Lake on a random Tuesday afternoon?”
Her brow cocks in a way that says it’s none of my business, but when she remembers my little sister is here too, she relaxes her evil eye. “I was at physical therapy with someone.”
She’s likely being vague on purpose, but it still hurts. I have no claim over Shay, anything she does, or anyone she sees, but the idea of someone else being able to hold and kiss her almost sends me to my knees in the middle of this farmers market.
“Want to shop with us, Shay Shay?” Violet jumps in. “We can’t find the collard greens.”
Shay shoots me a wary look. One that begs me to please let Violet down nicely, but I’m a selfish man, so I don’t give her an out.
“Yeah,” I say. “Join us.”
I try and fail to bite back a smile at the venomous stare she shoots me as Violet grips our hands and drags us down the aisle.
“You could’ve said no,” Shay mutters, refusing to look at me.
“But then I wouldn’t have gotten to see you.”
“Rule. Four. Cade.”
I hate our rules so much. “How’s it possible that I flirted nonstop with you for years, and you never noticed, but now you can identify it easily?”
A ghost of a smile lifts her lips, but her attention is snatched away by baguettes, ciabatta, and focaccia. “Mmm. My dietitian is a foodie. I’d get her some, but she’s too far away.”
I chuckle as she snaps a photo and texts it. “You have a dietitian?”
“Yeah, one of Mallory’s old classmates. I see her virtually for my PCOS.”
Violet tugs on her arm. “What’s POCS?”
Shay pats her own belly. “PCOS. It stands for polycystic ovary syndrome. I’ve got some problems with my hormones, and it affects my ovaries.”
Nodding slowly, Violet moves her hands to her stomach. “Lisa says that’s where babies come from. Her mom’s pregnantagain.”
My eyes fly to Shay’s, and I can’t even care about my little sister’s advanced knowledge of female anatomy because Shay is seconds from gracing me with the sound of her laugh.
Until someone jumps in front of us.
“Oh my gosh! Cade Owens! I was grabbing beets and wanted to stay hi! I’ve beendyingto meet you.” A slender hand is thrust at me. “I’m Summer Moore with theCarolina Gazette.”
Talking to the media may be part of the job, but I despise it. While some reporters are kind and compassionate, others are deeply personal and intrusive. It’s hard to decide which side of the spectrum Summer will fall on with her severe bun and wild eyes.
“Hi, Summer,” I say, shaking her hand. “It’s nice tomeet you.”
“How are you feeling about moving back to North Carolina? How have things been? Oh my gosh! Your sister is so cute. How old are you? Seven? Eight?” Curious eyes shift to Shay after squealing when Violet holds up eight fingers. “And who are you? Are you his girlfriend? All social media says Cade is single, but I believe privacy is so important.”
As if she’s my bodyguard, Shay steps slightly in front of me, and I’m hit by the heavenly scent of wildflowers.
The barrage of questions doesn’t seem to affect her as she shifts into work mode. “Hello. I’m Shaylene Turner, Cade’s agent with Permian Sports Agency.”
