Lila groaned and typed back.
He's here for work. Stop.
Three dots appeared immediately.
Work doesn't mean you can't look. 7 am. Don't be late.
She dropped the phone on the bed and pressed her palms against her eyes. Delia meant well. Delia always meant well. But Delia also had no idea that the hot security consultant was actually investigating the town they'd both grown up in, looking for corruption that might reach into places Lila didn't want to think about.
Places like the police station. Like the town council. Like Warren Caldwell's charitable foundation.
She threw back the covers and headed for the shower. There was no point in lying here spiraling. She had a centennial to plan and a best friend to lie to.
Just another day in Blossom Springs.
Mae's Bakery sat on Main Square, sandwiched between the post office and the library. The same brass bell had announced customers for forty years, and the same glass cases displayed the same croissants, muffins, and elaborately decorated cookies that Lila had been eating since she could walk.
Delia was already there when Lila arrived, tucked into their usual booth by the window with two cups of coffee and a plate of lemon scones.
"You look terrible."
"Good morning to you, too." Lila slid into the booth and wrapped her hands around the coffee cup. Still hot. Delia knew her well.
"Seriously. Did you sleep at all?"
"Not much. Centennial stress."
"Mm-hmm." Delia's eyes narrowed. She was a pediatric nurse at the hospital, trained to spot when people were lying about how they felt. "Centennial stress. That's what we're calling it."
"That's what it is."
"Right. And the fact that a tall, dark, and brooding stranger showed up in town three days ago has nothing to do with your insomnia."
Lila took a long sip of coffee to avoid answering.
"I saw him yesterday," Delia continued, undeterred. "Walking down Main Street like he owned it. That man has a presence, Lila. Capital P."
"He's a security consultant. They're supposed to be observant."
"Observant is one thing. That man looks like he's cataloging escape routes and potential threats every time he enters a room." Delia broke off a piece of scone and popped it in her mouth. "It's kind of sexy, actually."
"Please stop."
"When's the last time you went on a date?"
"I'm not discussing this."
"It's been two years since Jason. Two years, Lila. At some point, you have to get back on the horse."
The name hit like a slap. Jason Reeve. Her ex-fiancé. The man she'd trusted with everything, right up until she found out he'd been sleeping with her cousin for six months.
"Ronan Cross is not a horse," she said flatly. "And I'm not looking to ride anything."
Delia choked on her scone. "Oh, my God. Did you just make a dirty joke? Who are you and what have you done with Lila Bennett?"
Despite everything, Lila felt her mouth twitch. "I'm capable of humor."
"Rarely. And never about men." Delia leaned forward, her expression shifting from teasing to genuine concern. "Hey. I'm not trying to push. I just—I worry about you. You spend all your time working, and when you're not working, you're in that house alone, going through your dad's old files?—"
