Free Almost Like Being in Love by Beth K. Vogt

dinner with—” She removed her tortoiseshell sunglasses, her gaze tracking left as someone else stepped out of the passenger side of the car.
    Caron Hollister.
    The woman gripping the roof of the car was Caron Hollister. Light brown hair that hung past her shoulders. She must have abandoned the blonds-have-more-fun motto. Hidden behind a pair of pink retro sunglasses as they were, Kade couldn’t see her brown eyes, the same color as a smoky topaz gemstone. She offered him the smile of a professional Realtor. Businesslike, but with just a hint of practiced charm.
    â€œKade.”
    â€œCaron’s visiting me this week.” Margo rushed into the looming silence. “Taking a few days off after—”
    â€œJust taking some time off.” Caron shut the car door with enough force to rock the car. “We’re having dinner at Hacienda.”
    â€œNice choice. I like their fajitas.” Kade could maintain a casual tone, too, as if running into Caron Hollister, who should be two thousand miles away from here—and who was two years in his past—was a normal part of his day.
    â€œWe’ll keep that in mind.” Margo took a few steps back.
    â€œDid you see the e-mail I sent you?”
    At Kade’s question, Margo stopped, sparing a quick glance at Caron, who waited by the front of the car. “No. We’ve been outand about all day. Garden of the Gods. Glen Eyrie. That sort of thing. I haven’t checked my e-mail that much.”
    â€œI found a few new listings I thought you and Ronny might want to look out. Let me know what you think.”
    â€œAbsolutely.”
    â€œWe can take a look at them later this week if you want to—”
    â€œI’ll have to check with Ronny. And Caron is here until Sunday night.”
    â€œDon’t worry about me, Margo.” Caron raised her voice to be heard over the sound of a passing Harley. “I can entertain myself if you want to go look at some houses.”
    â€œJust text me. Whatever works.” Kade nodded at Margo, then Caron. “Ladies. I’m off to get dinner. Enjoy yourselves.”
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    He’d tossed the white Chipotle bag into the passenger seat of his SUV, secured the cup of iced tea in the holder, and cranked up the radio, the lyrics to “What We Ain’t Got” filling the car—until he twisted the knob and silenced the song. Dinner would be cold by the time he got home, but so be it. Any food he dropped or dribbled, he only had to clean up later.
    Not worth it.
    His phone rang and he connected to the in-car Bluetooth before it had a chance to ring a second time.
    â€œKade Webster, Webster Select Realty.”
    â€œHey, boss.”
    â€œHow goes it, Mitch?”
    â€œIt’s been a productive day. Although it is good to get my legs off and get back in the wheelchair—”
    â€œReally, man? When are you going to stop saying stuff like that?”
    â€œHey, the things make me more mobile, but after a while they get old.” Mitch laughed. “Gotta have a sense of humor, right?Anyway, I got a good offer on the property out in Falcon.”
    â€œExcellent.”
    â€œLacey told me to call you, see if you wanted to come over for dinner.”
    â€œYour girlfriend is determined to feed me. Thanks for the invitation.” Kade maneuvered the car onto I-25 heading north, allowing other cars to go ahead of him on the on-ramp. He wasn’t in a rush. “But I picked up a carnitas burrito from Chipotle. I’m good.”
    â€œYou sure? A burrito will keep. Have it for breakfast tomorrow.”
    â€œI appreciate the offer, but tell Lacey I’ll take a rain check this time.”
    â€œEverything okay?”
    â€œSure.” He debated saying anything more and then continued. “I ran into Caron Hollister earlier.”
    â€œCaron . . . Hollister? The Caron Hollister?”
    â€œOne and the