Page 41 of Bluffed By the Offense

“Hardly.” The word is out of my mouth before I have a chance to filter myself.

“Oh, I get it. You don’t want to spill the beans too soon. Keeping things under wraps. Giving yourselves time to get to know one another outside the spotlight and all …” Burt gives me an exaggerated, conspiratorial wink. “After what happened with your sister and Declan, I’d be the same way.”

“No. Really. We’re not dating.”

Forget the PR advice. I’m out here trying to drum up help for our community and all I am hearing all afternoon is Marcus, Marcus, Marcus.

It doesn’t matter what I say, though. Burt just winks again and says, “Gotchyou.”

I stop by Baker From Another Mother after making the rounds. Emberleigh and Sydney are behind the counter. A few customers are sitting at the little bistro tables along the wall of front windows. Otherwise, the place is in its usual late afternoon lull.

“Cass!” Emberleigh says when I walk in. “How are you?”

“Good. Just making the rounds to drum up support for Porch Light.”

“Any luck?” she asks.

The bell over the door jingles and Blaire Rutherford comes in. She’s the designer helping Coleman stage the house on Cherry Hill.

I smile at Blaire and ask, “How’s your mom doing?”

“Much better. Thanks so much for sending over a casserole. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Glad I could help,” I say with a smile.

I turn back to answer Emberleigh. “Everyone’s been great. Waterford is so generous. We always step up for a good cause. My afternoon has just been a Marcus Delaney fan-fest.”

Blaire steps closer. “Marcus Delaney? You’re so lucky! I’ve always wanted to do one of those stranger shoots. And you ended up with him. Isn’t he gorgeous?” She’s gushing in a way that’s out of character for her. “And the two of you together? Wow. He’s the definition of dreamy.”

“Dreamy doesn’t begin to capture all he is,” I mutter.

More like my new nightmare.

I picture Marcus the way Blaire sees him. Marcus Delaney, star quarterback. The blond with all the muscles and those piercing, grey-blue eyes. His talent on the field. The one who charms reporters. The one who led his team to play in the playoffs last year.

I get it. I was his biggest fangirl—before I met him in person. I’m starting to think I’m the only one who sees the micromanaging, bossy, arrogant, self-serving underbelly of this man.

Is everyone under some collective spell?

“Hold that thought,” Emberleigh says. “You two are in here so late in the day, let’s just give you something on the house.”

She steps down the glass case and pulls out a croissant.

“This one’s got candied pecans and a spiced apple filling. We’re trying out our new menu before fall hits in full force.”

“Girl,” I say. “You just turned my whole afternoon around.”

“That’s what we’re here for, Cass,” Emberleigh says. “And let us know what we can do to support Porch Light.”

“I will,” I say, waiting for her to mention Marcus. When she doesn’t, I smile a grateful smile at her. “And thanks for the croissant. I’m glad to pay for it.”

“Nonsense. Just tell me what you think of it later.”

Blaire offers to pay too, and Emberleigh turns her down.

Emberleigh places each of our croissants into pastry bags and hands them over to us. I say goodbye and head home to a girl-dinner of croissant and warm tea. Winona’s with Declan for the evening, so it’s me and my sports podcasts.

Our first volunteer recruitment event is on a Saturday, midmorning in the town square. Being centrally located means we’ll get a lot of foot traffic. A bunch of my friends showed up, along with some other people I recruited to sit at tables with iPads set for signups.