Seven Day Fiance: A Love and Games Novel (Entangled Bliss) (10 page)

Clearing his throat, he turned to the refrigerator. “Want a glass of wine? I believe we earned it after that performance.”

A
screech
of wood against tile preceded her laugh. “I’d say so. You’re gonna have to tell me where you came up with that fairy tale. It was like a disturbing mix of Rumpelstiltskin,
Cinderella
, The Powerpuff Girls, and
Star Wars
.” She slid up beside him and bumped his hip so she could lean inside the fridge. “And actually, bartender, you should know I’m more of a beer girl.”

Cane smirked as he took a longneck for himself. “Two little sisters, a dad with a rather strange sense of humor, and Emma—
that’s
where the story came from.” He twisted the top off his beer, handed it to Angelle, and took the one from her hands. Unscrewing it, he lifted his arm to pitch the two bottle caps in the trash when she latched onto his arm.

“Don’t.”

Eyebrow lifted, Cane opened his hand and glanced at the discards. “Did you want to keep these for something?”

Angelle chewed the corner of her lip. “Yeah. I like keeping the tops. My…” She trailed off and shook her head, lips pressed firmly together. “I used to make crafts with them. I don’t anymore,” she clarified, “and even when I did, I was never very good at it. But it’s just something I do.” She shrugged her shoulders and looked at the caps. “A good memory.”

Sensing there was a story there, more than likely one tied to the mysterious sister he was growing more and more curious about, Cane dropped them in her hand and then nodded toward the living room. “Let’s go take a load off.”

On the short walk to the sofa, he thought about the picture he’d seen in Ryan’s room. He’d stared at it again this afternoon. The longer he looked, the more he was convinced that if he wanted to unlock the secrets surrounding the woman who ran hot and cold and in the opposite direction, despite clearly being attracted to him, the key lay buried in her past. Settling down on the floor, his back against the sofa, beer on the coffee table, Cane said, “I like your family. They might not like
me
all that much…”

Angelle winced. “Sorry about that. They’ll come around. You’re just—not what they were expecting.” She eyed the tattoo peeking out from his sleeve. “But hey, you’ve already got Lacey, Sadie, and Eva in your corner. Troy will come around eventually. I predict you’ll have them all eating out of the palm of your hand by the end of the week.” She rolled her eyes and shot him a grin. “Then they can be mad at me for
two
failed engagements.”

Her nose scrunched adorably and she took a sip of her beer. Cane waited until she’d set her bottle down and began absentmindedly playing with the caps to ask, “So tell me more about them. What was your childhood like? Clearly, you were a surprise.”

“You caught that, huh?” Angelle’s quick whiskey laugh curled around him. “Yeah, Mama and Daddy were into their forties when they
popped
me out. Ryan and I like to say it’s the tale of two parents. He got Daddy younger, an attorney, and a lot more laid-back. By the time I came around, he had wisps of gray and was already in politics. They were still amazing, don’t get me wrong, but I definitely grew up believing I had to be beyond reproach.” She twisted onto her hip to face him. “Living in a small town means everyone knows your faults and mistakes. I just never allowed myself to have any. Or any that people could see, that is.”

A world of information lay in that revelation. Feeling like he was finally getting somewhere, Cane decided to encourage her by telling a little of his own story. “I know a thing or two about small town gossip,” he shared.

Her head tilted. “You do?”

Cane nodded, surprised even as he did so that he was about to admit this. “By the time you came to Magnolia Springs, most of it had died down. But at one time, whispering about my family was more entertaining than an afternoon soap opera.”

He watched her reaction carefully, and when she seemed genuinely confused, a knot in his chest loosened.
Sherry must still not know.
He’d sure threatened enough people within an inch of their life, and it looked as though it had worked. If his baby sister
had
heard the gossip about their father and the town librarian, she’d never have kept it to herself. She was too emotional for that. He may’ve failed Colby, but Cane was glad to know he’d protected at least one of the women in his life from the truth.

“The Robicheaux family is an institution,” Angelle said, eyebrows furrowed. “What on earth could people possibly gossip about?”

“Plenty, but most of it was about my dad’s affair.”

The words came out sharp and clinical. Deadpan. He’d already processed the pain and had actually forgiven his father for the consequences. But it didn’t mean the effects didn’t haunt him every day.

The knot in his chest loosened a bit more at Angelle’s sharp gasp of surprise. Taking a long pull off his beer, Cane propped his elbow against the soft sofa cushion and faced her. “Dad tried keeping it a secret, of course, but in a town as small as Magnolia Springs, everyone’s listening. Everyone’s watching. And when I was twenty, a guy who’d had one too many spilled the beans.”

Her pink lips parted and her hand rested on top of his. “God, how awful. Did your sisters know?”

Cane stared at her long, slender fingers, wishing he could answer differently. “Sherry doesn’t. And if I have anything to do with it, she never will.” He lifted his eyes to hers. “You can’t tell her.”

The soft skin between her eyebrows furrowed. “Of course not. I’m not in the habit of hurting my friends for no reason.”

Cane let out a sigh and dropped his gaze again. He knew that. The last two days proved she was more kind, more loving, than any woman he’d met. “I know. It’s just that after I confronted my father, I vowed to shelter my sisters from ever hearing the truth. The last thing I wanted was for them to go through the same thing I did. To have that stupid perfect family bubble we thought we’d lived in shattered. But I screwed up—Colby found out. That’s what sent her packing years ago. My starry-eyed sister was so scared she’d fall for someone like Dad that she gave up on love and left home. That’s
my
fault. And if Jason hadn’t broken through her walls, she’d still be a mess because of it.”

His hand fisted on the sofa, and Angelle’s clenched around it. “It’s
not
your fault.”

Cane scoffed and took another sip of his drink.

Where in the hell is this coming from?

Talking about his past didn’t happen. Same for his personal life. Hell, he hadn’t even told Jason about everything until this year, and only because he was cornered. He’d just meant to share a piece of the past, enough to encourage Angelle to do the same. Not act like a damn volcano, spewing family shit all over the room.

The story of his life was told in ink, not words. The koi fish swimming up his ribs. Against the current. Fighting to overpower his past. The yin-yang on his chest. The dark and light. The balance between pain and peace. His father had been a good man who made a mistake, but it had ripped his family apart. That same darkness lived inside of Cane. Inside everyone. The difference was that he refused to give it opportunity to let loose.

Angelle shook his hand, gaining his attention. “It’s
not.
You couldn’t control your dad. Those were his mistakes, not yours. I’m sure Colby doesn’t blame you.”

He slid his hand away, immediately missing her soft touch, the warmth of her skin. But the lack of it was a good thing. It reminded him that he couldn’t allow her to get too close. Intimacy, feeling too much, meant pain. This conversation alone should’ve been reminder enough.

“You’re right,” he told her, lifting the beer bottle to his mouth. “She doesn’t blame me.
I
do.”

Chapter Nine

What do you say to a man so stubbornly fixated on pointless self-guilt? Angelle wanted to slap Cane upside the head and cuddle him at the same time. It was clear she wasn’t going to change his mind, at least not tonight, and it wasn’t her place to involve Colby. But she needed to do
something.
She’d seen Cane half-naked and cocky at Best Abs, sweaty and arrogant in a gym, and rocked out and bigheaded on a stage with his guitar, but
vulnerable
never even entered the same mental airspace as the town bad boy…until now.

Now, vulnerable was the best description for how Cane looked as he sat across from her in Troy’s living room. He appeared as shocked by his confession as she was, but she was glad he’d shared it. It gave her a better understanding of what made the man tick. Why he acted the way he did. Cane Robicheaux wasn’t just a stubborn ass who had women dropping at his feet. He was a protective warrior who’d go to battle for those he loved.

That knowledge was dangerous to her psyche, her hormones, and her heart, because to heck with her five-month-old crush. If Angie hadn’t already been in full-blown lust with her fake fiancé, she darn well was now.

“You know, I grew up with a protective sibling, too.”

Cane set his empty bottle on the table and raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, I met your brothers, remember?”

Picking up a bottle cap, she shook her head. “No. I don’t mean Ryan or Troy. They’re
over
protective. I meant my sister, Amber.” Angelle traced the ridges of the metal top, feeling his gaze heavy on her cheek. “She was the one who used to make the crafts with these. Flip-flops, picture frames, jewelry, candles—you name it—she made it with bottle caps. She’d sneak around collecting them at family parties and events and then sell her stuff at school and craft fairs. I was young—and terrified of the hot glue gun—but she made me her honorary helper.” Angie grinned at the memory. “I thought it was the coolest job in the world, and I hocked her stuff everywhere I went. I fully believed they were the most beautiful, special items ever in existence. And they were. Because
Amber
made them.”

Cane was quiet for a moment, but then he said, “Sounds like she was pretty amazing.” Angelle raised her head at the softness of his voice, and the use of the word
was
. Her eyes studied his, and he nodded at her unspoken question. “You mentioned in the ride over you had a sibling that
had been
ten years older. The past tense and the fact that neither of your brothers fit the bill had me wondering. Then I found a picture in your brother’s room.”

A small smile turned the corners of her mouth. “I think I know the one you’re talking about. Ryan’s first start for UL Lafayette. That was in the middle of Amber’s eccentric phase, as Mama liked to call it. That girl was a mess, a total wild child. A lot like Sherry, actually. She was forever getting into trouble, laughing, acting crazy. She was never scared to take a chance.”

Angie flipped her wrist to look at her tattoo.

Chance.

“Sounds exactly like Sherry,” Cane confirmed, his voice sounding closer than it had before. A tan finger brushed over the faded lines of her old scar. “So what happened to her?”

The muscles of Angelle’s stomach tightened, whether it was from the contact, the memory, or both, she didn’t know. She swallowed hard past a lump of emotion. “Her first year in college she made new friends. Before that, she was rebellious, but she never pushed it too far. But then she stopped coming home so much, got a tattoo and some piercings, and Mama and Daddy didn’t like it. Her grades stayed up, so there wasn’t much they could do, but Lord, they sure tried. And once Dylan entered the picture, it was all over.”

Her mind conjured an image of the boy who’d stolen her sister’s heart.

“Amber was head over heels in love with the epitome of a bad boy.” She gave Cane a small smile and said, “You two could’ve been twins. Dark hair, tattoos, motorcycle…he was Daddy’s worst nightmare for his little girl.”

Cane rubbed the stubble along his jaw. “Then I guess that makes me nightmare number two. At least that helps explain the lukewarm reaction.”

Angelle sighed. “That’s definitely part of it.” It had also been one of the reasons she’d stressed about bringing him home. But what else could she have done? Her brain had already short-circuited by that point, slipping out his name. “As for Dylan, I don’t know if he was that bad of a guy. I mean, I was only nine, and pretty much caught in the middle every time my sister brought him around. But he never talked down to me or anything. Never treated me like an annoying kid sister. What mattered was that Amber liked him. Because of that, I wanted to like him, too, but I was also daddy’s girl. I remember being so confused whenever she’d leave in tears after a fight with my parents. She loved Dylan, they blamed him for her changing, and that was all she wrote.”

Cane stayed silent as she took a long pull of her beer, wanting to delay the rest of the story. Pretend it never happened. But it did, and it felt good to share it with someone who didn’t know it already. Who hadn’t already formed his own opinion based on town gossip, or even her own parents’ testimonies.

Drawing a deep breath, Angelle blew it out slowly. She set down her drink, swallowed again, and said, “One night, Amber came home to babysit me. I was getting too old to need a sitter, but Daddy had a big fund-raiser and he was gonna be out all night. By that point, Amber had stopped bringing Dylan around with her on visits, so when she asked if I wanted to head to the city for dinner, I knew what was going on. We were meeting him, and even though breaking their rules made me nervous, I didn’t want to disappoint her. So we went.”

Angie closed her eyes as the pain of that night washed over her. “It was raining. Traffic lights were out, and it was taking longer than normal to get anywhere. I’m guessing Amber got impatient and floored it, I don’t know. Mama always said she had a lead foot. All I remember is spinning. Spinning for what felt like forever. Really, it had to be only a few seconds. Then the screech of tires. A horn blaring. And glass shattering.”

The car had flipped. She could still feel the cold, wet rain soaking her clothes. The panic of calling out for Amber and not getting a response sliced as raw and deep as it had seventeen years ago. A sob escaped, followed by another until her shoulders were shaking. She swiped at the tears falling down her cheeks and suddenly found herself yanked into Cane’s rock hard chest. Her eyes flew open.

“I’ve got you.”

Those words brought a fresh batch of waterworks. Gently, he pried open the hand she’d clutched around the metal cap. She hadn’t realized how tightly she was holding it. A red, angry spot marked her, and he pressed his lips softly against her skin. Tingles shot up her arm as he kicked the coffee table away and pulled her fully against him.

Leather, pine, and the soap from her parents’ shower filled her head as Cane cradled her head in the crook of his neck. The soft cotton of his shirt grew damp from her tears. Angie closed her eyes as he tightened his hold, letting herself grieve for the sister she’d loved so much. The girl who was taken too young.

Cane seemed content just holding her, letting her cry it out. But she wanted him to know the rest of the story. So she drew a ragged wood-scented breath, trying to rein in her emotions.

“Amber”—Angelle hiccupped—“Amber died instantly. The impact of the flip trapped me in the back. I remember being scared. In pain and confused, but then thinking God had sent His angels to help.” Sniffling, she raised her head and gave a watery grin. “Firefighters. They’d come to extract me from the car. It was terrifying, but they talked me through it. And then stayed until I went to the hospital. They saved me.”

Cane brushed hair away from her face. “And now you’re one of them.”

She was. Pride at that accomplishment bloomed anew in her chest. It was all a part of her plan to become more than a timid, spineless mouse. For years she’d watched the men and women of the Bon Terre fire department from outside the library window. As a teen, she’d been a library aide and after college she returned to lead children’s programming…all the while watching the heroic firefighters across the street. They lived their lives helping people, stepping outside of their comfort zones. There were times she’d been afraid of her own shadow. Always afraid of rocking the boat.

Angelle nodded and said, “Yeah, but you have to understand why that’s so strange to people here.” Not ready to leave the comfort of his arms, she shifted her weight onto his right thigh and leaned her back against the sofa cushions. “After Amber died, my parents went into lockdown mode. They blamed Dylan and her friends for the accident, and the little freedom I’d had before vanished completely. You’ve heard of helicopter parents? Well, mine were white-on-rice parents. I couldn’t sneeze without having a wad of tissues thrust under my nose or get a chill without being thrown a blanket. But I understood. I got it. They were older and hurting, and I didn’t want to do anything to make it worse. So I fell in line. I did what was expected, and faded into the shadows.”

“Until this year,” Cane guessed, glancing at the wrist cradled between them. “Tell me about your tattoo. What does it mean to you?”

Shoulders back, tears abated, she told him, “It means I’m starting over. The faded line down the middle is a scar from the accident. It symbolizes when my life changed and I turned to fear, and I wanted to replace it with the opposite. Amber hadn’t been afraid to take chances, to try something different with her life and find her own path. That’s what I want. The artist warned me it wouldn’t totally cover my scar—the line shows in the negative space between the letters. But I didn’t need it covered completely. This shaped me. And really, I couldn’t ask for anything better.” Glancing at the inked promise she’d made to herself, she laughed at the result. “This tattoo perfectly reflects who I am. A woman striving to be bold and transformed, but with hints of her past always shining through.”

Cane’s body shifted beneath her and she raised her head. That fire was back, along with what appeared to be respect. He shook his head and said, “You don’t give yourself enough credit. The woman I know
is
bold. Darlin’, starting over is scary as shit. You left a town where everyone knew you and moved where no one did. You went after the career you wanted, and now you’re a hero. You’re a woman in a man’s job, and in a position to help someone trapped like you were. You rush into burning buildings to save lives, and yesterday when you faced the firing squad of your own family, you did it with class. When they judged, you smiled but you didn’t make excuses or apologize for your choices. That’s brave. No, scratch that. It’s badass.”

Angelle laughed, thinking,
That’s me, all right. One fierce chica.
But then a wicked gleam entered Cane’s eyes and with his gaze locked on hers, he lifted her wrist to his mouth. Electricity zinged through her veins as he pressed a kiss across her skin. Right over the word
Chance.
Then, a glint entered his eye as he slid up and took her thumb into his hot mouth. The world dropped away
.

It was a sign. A sign from the cosmos, the heavens, or maybe just Amber. This right here, this man, was the ultimate chance Angelle would ever get.

“Badass?” she asked, hearing how breathless her voice suddenly sounded but not giving a hoot. “I like the sound of that.” Then shifting her weight, she straddled Cane Robicheaux, grabbed either side of his dark head, stared into his widened, hungry eyes, and kissed him.