Cassidy Lane by Maria Murnane Read Free Book Online Page B

that. You can’t let your mind play tricks on you. Hell, I would marry you.”
    Cassidy laughed weakly and picked up her coffee. “Thanks.”
    “You’ve got so much to offer . So much.”
    Cassidy sighed into her mug. “I know.”
    “Do you? Do you really? I mean, in addition to being smart, and kind, and witty, you’re a bestselling author , for God’s sake. Do you know how effing cool that is?”
    “I do. Thanks, Danielle.”
    “You promise?”
    Cassidy forced a smile. “Yes.”
    “Good. It’s important to me that you realize that you have to be pretty freaking amazing to make it into my inner circle. My screening process is quite rigorous, if you haven’t noticed.”
    Cassidy laughed. “I have noticed, and I’m honored to have been selected for membership in such an elite group.”
    “As you should be.” Danielle tipped her head. “And for the record, you know there’s no such thing as the one ,anyway. Please. What if the one guy in the whole world for you happens to live in Germany? Or Ghana? How the hell are you supposed to meet him?”
    “You make a good point. Funny how so many people seem to find their soul mate within a fifty-mile radius of where they live.”
    Danielle took another bite of pancake. “Now you’re making more sense.”
    Cassidy leaned back against her chair, feeling much better. “I’m sorry for getting dramatic there. I know I tend to do that every once in a while.”
    Danielle shrugged. “Don’t sweat it. You’re entitled; you’re an artist. You’re supposed to be temperamental.”
    “You’re always so even-keeled. Does anything rattle you?”
    Danielle picked up the syrup and gestured toward the waiter. “It rattles me when they’re out of this maple deliciousness.”

    After brunch Cassidy slowly ambled back to her apartment, knowing she needed to hunker down and get working on her novel, but not quite ready to give up the rest of her Saturday. Her eyes began to scan the storefronts along Amsterdam, searching for a practical excuse to postpone the tedious afternoon ahead. Did she need anything from the grocery store? How about CVS? Maybe some shampoo? Toothpaste? Anything?
    Finally, her eyes rested on a small nail and hair salon with a quaint wooden placard hanging above the door that said ANNABELLE ’ S in pretty blue lettering. Cassidy studied the sign. She’d walked down this block countless times but had never noticed this place before. Was it new? She peered through the spotless windows, which were framed by crisp white curtains dotted with blue and green flowers. She didn’t see anyone inside, which was surprising, given that it was Saturday afternoon.
    Cassidy glanced at her hands and wondered if she should get a manicure. When was the last time she’d done such a whimsical thing? She began to nibble on her thumbnail as she pondered the question, then yanked it away when she realized what she was doing. She held out both her hands in front of her with her fingers stretched wide, then raised her eyebrows. Maybe painting her nails would finally get her to stop biting them.
    She doubted it.
    She shrugged and decided to indulge herself anyway. It would be fun to be pampered for an hour or so, and it would offer a temporary reprieve from the hours at her desk that awaited her when she got home. She pushed open the door and was immediately greeted by the gentle sounds of ocean waves and the delicious smell of…cinnamon?
    Is that cinnamon?
    “I’ll be right there!” called a voice from the back. A moment later a short, plump redhead who looked to be in her midfifties appeared from the back room. When she looked up and saw Cassidy standing there, she stopped walking.
    “Oh, pardon me. I thought you were the deliveryman.”
    Cassidy smiled. “Nope, just a nail biter in desperate need of an intervention. Are you in charge here?” Was this Annabelle herself?
    The woman put her hands on her hips and frowned. “I am indeed, but I’m sorry, love, we’re not