Seven Day Fiance: A Love and Games Novel (Entangled Bliss) (8 page)

Cane studied the family dynamic for a few more moments, curious about their history. Wondering if he’d ever find out. He didn’t know Angelle well, but he’d become somewhat of an expert on reading pain. There were ghosts tied to the memories of her sister. Secrets that, if he was right, had changed his favorite redhead…something Cane knew a thing or two about. For now, he wouldn’t push her for details or answers. He’d keep it light and carefree. But he would keep watch.

With a final glance at Angelle’s gap-toothed smile, he returned the photo and then followed the sound of her sultry, whiskey voice down the hall.

“Thank the Lord Mama didn’t ask to help me unpack,” Cane heard Angelle say as he neared her opened door. “I’d have sent her to an early grave.”

Nudging the door wider, he glanced around the room, noticing the frilly lace, collection of stuffed animals, and the fact that she was alone. Cane grinned. “Knock, knock.”

Angelle startled, a fist of purple silk clutched near her heart. Her fair cheeks flushed as she followed his gaze and she quickly spun around, shoving it deep within her suitcase.

So Angelle had packed lingerie for the week. That was promising.

He leaned a shoulder against the doorframe, smiling. “Were you just talking to yourself, sweetheart? I have to say that rosy glow has me wishing I’d kept quiet a little longer. Seems I might’ve liked what I overheard.”

Scowling, she shoved her hand through a section of thick auburn hair. “Nonsense. Despite what the women of Magnolia Springs have caused you to believe, not
every
thought or conversation revolves around the almighty Cane, you know.”

“I never said it did, darlin’,” he replied with a wink. Her cheeks burned a touch brighter. Call it a hunch, but Cane had a feeling the lady protested too much. And with her making it a point not to look anywhere near his general direction, he figured that was a good thing.

She bit her lip and twirled his mother’s ring.

A
very
good thing.

With a huff, Angelle turned back to her suitcase and hastily lifted a large pile of clothes from inside. She spun to carry them to the dresser and ended up ramming her foot into the wooden bedpost.
“Dang it all!”
she cursed. Or what passed for a curse from Angelle.

Face scrunched, knee bent, still avoiding his eyes, she hobbled forward with her chin held high. Having witnessed similar incidents in their ninjitsu class more times than he could count, Cane knew better than to offer any help. Nothing made her madder or more edgy than calling additional attention to her awkward mishaps. So he stood there, fighting a grin, and speculating over what made her so flustered this time.

“You do realize—” She stopped to look at her full hands, then at the closed dresser, and pursed her lips in a frown. Cane stepped forward and slid open the drawer, and she nodded. “Thank you. You do realize,” she continued, slipping the clothes inside, “that small welcome on the porch was only the beginning, don’t you?”

Her voice held a warning that Cane didn’t understand. The week had just started, and he knew they had plenty of acting left to do—hopefully involving more of that tight little body pressed against his. But from where he’d stood outside, things could have gone a whole lot worse. So he asked, “Huh?”

“That was just the first wave of people,” Angelle explained, bumping the drawer closed with her jean-clad hip. This girl had him so twisted that even that small wiggle got his blood pumping. Cane gritted his teeth. Countless women had waltzed through his life wearing a lot less and trying a lot harder, but all this sweet thing had to do was grin, and he was turned inside out.

“What we have here is a good old-fashioned
boucherie,
” she declared.

Blinking away visions of taking her on the four-post bed, Cane asked, “A boushe-what?”

“A
boucherie
,” Angelle said again, this time with a smile. “It’s a pig slaughter, a Cajun country thing. It’s a big to-do, so we normally only hold one for special celebrations, but I guess our homecoming fits the bill. Mama said people have been here since six a.m., butchering, making
boudin
and
grattons
and hog head cheese, simmering stews, and smoking chops. And when I say people, Cane, I mean second cousins, third cousins, family friends, and more of my daddy’s constituents. Not to mention Brady and his family. Most of
those
people are still in the backyard.”

The fact that such an event existed, much less they reserved it for celebrations, was shocking. But not as much as discovering he
hadn’t
just met the entire population of Bon Terre on her front porch.

Shaking his head, Cane couldn’t help but laugh. “I own a Cajun restaurant. At crawfish boils, my family plays Cajun music. My dad used to speak Cajun-French from time to time, and I can make a mean gumbo with the best of them. I didn’t think it
got
more Cajun than me. But it looks like this
city boy
is about to be schooled.”

“Honey, there’s
creole
Cajun and then there’s
country
Cajun. Welcome to the latter.”

Angelle’s throaty laugh smacked him full force in the chest. It had been his intention to get her to smile—if they were about to go out there and do this thing, they needed to do it right. Which meant getting his
fiancée
to drop the uneasy, skittish vibe she suddenly had around him again. But damn if her voice and lit-up smile didn’t mess with his head. Pushing those thoughts away and shoving his shoulder off the doorframe, he held out his hand. “Teach on, tour guide.” And with her tiny hand in his, she led him outside.

The back of the Prejean property stretched out in one big field. Large moss-covered oaks sheltered rows of folding tables, a dozen different cook stations, and, sure enough, a throng of people. People of all ages, from babies to the elderly, sat in folding chairs talking and laughing and even more were standing, tending the food. They all seemed to stop, however, when he and Angelle strolled out the door. Smiles froze. Chatter paused. And gazes locked on their entwined hands. If he hadn’t guessed before, he knew now: these people were not team Cane. If he had to wager, the whole lot, family included, were team Brady devotees.

And Cane was nothing more than the big, bad wolf messing with their
Little Red.

Scanning the watchful crowd, Cane held in a chuckle at his bad joke. Sure enough, in the entire mass of people, he was one of three not wearing boots. And the other two were barefoot. Angelle had been right, but he doubted boots would help him now. He’d just have to win the people over. Or not. But either way, Cane hadn’t survived
his
family’s fractured past by letting a few whispers and looks scare him off.

A weathered gray barn stood at the back of the property. From inside, he heard the tuning of instruments. Delicious smells like he couldn’t believe whacked him in the face, and since he owned a restaurant, that was saying something. As he inhaled deeply, Angelle sent him a happy grin.

“Good stuff, huh?”

Cane nodded, stepping close to a large pot of bubbling brew. “I wish Colby could see this.”

When she’d first come home, it was no secret his sister had abandoned her love of Cajun cuisine; for her, there’d been too many sad memories attached to it. But thanks to Jason, Colby’s first culinary love had returned with a vengeance, and now she was constantly creating unique twists on traditional recipes. If she were here today, she’d be in hog heaven. Pun intended.

Angelle stopped beside a folding table boasting boxes of fresh, crispy cracklins and selected a thick piece. Cane watched, mesmerized, as she puckered those gorgeous lips and blew on the sliver. With a flirtatious glint in her eyes, she held it up to his mouth, and he opened.

Holy crap.

He’d had cracklins before. Fried pork fat was a standard gas station treat, usually shrink-wrapped and stale as shit. But this, fresh from the pot and piping hot, was unbelievable. Cane widened his eyes, and it was possible he even moaned. It was
that
good. And as he swallowed, Angelle rewarded him with a rich, throaty laugh.

“
Ca c’est bon
?” she asked, grinning when he grabbed another handful.

He touched her nose and popped a piece in his mouth. “Good would be an understatement.”

Grinning, she took a fried morsel for herself and sent the balding, overweight gentleman tending the table a wink. “Now that’s what we like to hear.” Then she closed her eyes as she savored the treat.

The sounds of Angelle moaning, and watching her face soften in the throes of a foodgasm, had to be the sexiest damn thing Cane had ever seen. His pants tightened, embarrassingly so considering he knew the audience was still watching, but what pushed him over the edge was when her eyes opened. The pleasure in them was his undoing.

Feeling the weight of the crowd’s disapproving stares and not giving a damn, figuring now was as good a time as any to give the people the show they clearly wanted, he grasped her hip and tugged her forward, pausing only to inhale her gasp of surprise before brushing her mouth with his.

It was like setting off a damn forest fire.

Angelle, his shocking little hellcat, pounced. Forgetting all about their audience, or maybe not giving a damn either, she wound her arms around his neck, lifted onto her toes, and kissed him back with everything she had. Cane had intended to steal a quick taste, take the edge off his craving for her, and prove their point with the town’s people. But hell if he was gonna be the one to back down now. Tightening his grasp on her slim hips, he brushed his thumbs across the smooth, exposed skin near her waistband. He deepened the kiss, thrilling over her telltale shiver. Whimpering, she yanked on the hair at his nape and sucked his bottom lip into her mouth.
Hot damn.

Okay,
now
he had to start backing down. With all her male relatives watching, not to mention the knives and axes still lying around from the butchering earlier, if Cane valued his life, he needed to wrangle control of the situation. He’d heard patience was a virtue. That was a line of bull—he’d always sucked at waiting for anything he wanted. But for Angelle, he was willing to try.

Loosening his grip on her belt loops, Cane slowed the intensity of the kiss. He smoothed the hem of her shirt down, grazed her lips one last time, and, placing his forehead against hers, inhaled through his nose. Sunflowers mixed with cayenne may be his new favorite scent. Angelle released a heavy breath, a flush blooming on her cheeks. She darted a glance at the crowd, then looking into his eyes, grinned lazily. “My goodness. If anyone doubted we were a couple before, I guess that showed them.”

Cane grinned as another wave of pride rushed over him. Angelle had been with her ex for almost eight years. But the way she melted in
his
arms, responded to
his
kisses, and looked at
him
afterward, made Cane believe that everything he showed her was a new experience.

Maybe Brady never did her right. Maybe he failed to satisfy her needs. If that was the case, Cane was more than happy to correct the man’s past sins. He’d gladly show his angel what real ecstasy could be like.

Hell, it’d be an honor.

Music from inside the barn began, a fast-paced tune with fiddles and accordions. Cane lifted his head, the sudden desire to dance thrumming in his veins, despite the disapproving stares from the crowd around them. Cajun dancing wasn’t something he excelled at; when he was a kid, his parents had been involved in the Cajun French Music Association, but they could never get him to take the lessons. He hadn’t appreciated the culture, preferring to listen to classic rock on his old Walkman whenever they took him to an event. Now an adult, Cane
did
appreciate his ancestry…but he still didn’t know jack about the steps.

How hard could it be, though? He’d learned to fake just about anything with the best of them. Plus, dancing had the added bonus of holding his favorite redhead in his arms some more.

“Would you—”

But before Cane could finish the question, Angelle’s gaze shifted. She tensed in his arms and took a step back as a male voice said, “It’s good to see you, Angie.”

Without turning, Cane knew who stood behind him. So when Angelle’s shaky voice said, “You, too, Brady,” it only confirmed his suspicions. But he’d be damned if he’d let her put distance between them now, especially after that kiss. And
especially
in front of her ex.

Tucking her back against his side, back where she belonged—for the rest of the week, that is—Cane turned to face the man Angelle had once considered
the one
. Sizing up her ex, he didn’t get it. Brady had on a tattered baseball cap, old jeans, and cowboy boots. Certainly not the image he’d gotten of the selfish so-called “good doctor.”

Their audience that had quieted earlier was now deathly silent. Brady gave Angelle a small smile that failed to hide the pain behind it, and anyone with a pair of eyes could see he still wanted her. Still loved her. Cane had expected as much. Angelle was amazing, and this town had built them up as a couple. But hell if the other man’s interest didn’t bring out Cane’s inner caveman. And damn if that didn’t grate on his nerves even more.

So the two had a past. She chose to walk away from it. Even if she changed her mind, it shouldn’t matter. This thing between them was a hoax. It wasn’t real. But that didn’t keep him from pressing a lingering kiss on the top of her head anyway. And telling himself it was for the sake of the charade.

Her ex nodded at the gesture and took a long pull off his beer. Swallowing, he held out his hand and lifted his mouth in a close approximation of a smile. “Brady Doucet. Real pleased to meet you.”

“Cane Robicheaux,” he said, staring at the outstretched hand for a half-beat before shaking it. “Likewise.”

Chapter Seven

This was really happening.

Brady and Cane were actually standing toe-to-toe, shaking hands, and her entire hometown (or what felt like it) was keeping watch. Angelle knew this moment would come. Heck, she’d even tried to prepare herself for it. But no amount of forethought could’ve lessened the shock of seeing her ex approach while she was still reeling from Cane’s toe-tingling kiss. On instinct, she’d shuffled back a step, guilt worms snaking through her insides at the flash of hurt in Brady’s eyes.

At Cane’s instinctive response, they locked in shock with the rest of her.

Of course to everyone watching, he was her fiancé. It made sense for him to stake his claim. But what Angie couldn’t figure out was if Cane was just playing the part for the busybody crowd or if it were more. Was he that good of an actor…or could the playboy of Magnolia Springs actually be jealous over
her?

Where exactly did the game end?

And did it even matter?

Cane’s kisses were phenomenal. Better than chocolate, horses, and Channing Tatum rolled into one. But it proved that he had
beaucoup
experience. If she didn’t keep the wall between truth and fiction firmly in place, her poor virginal heart would be left decimated in the end.

Brady cleared his throat and Angelle realized they’d been standing in awkward silence for way too long. Subtly, she tried releasing the breath she’d been holding—it came out as a harsh bark of laughter. When both men turned to eyeball her, she lifted her mouth in a nervous smile so wide it almost hurt. “
So
, Brady, how’s the residency going?”

Why she was attempting small talk was anyone’s guess. It’d be best, for everyone involved, if either he or they made a quick getaway. Baby steps into the world of discomfort that awaited them this week would be a good thing. But apparently, you can take the girl out of the country, but you can’t take the ingrained country manners out of the girl. Mama hadn’t raised her to be impolite. Not even out of self-preservation.

Brady rocked back on the heels of his cowboy boots. “It’s good. The new hospital in Lafayette is state-of-the-art; you should come by and check it out.” He glanced at Cane. “You know, if the two of you have time.”

“Yeah, we’ll do that.” Angelle felt Cane watching her, but she didn’t look up. She couldn’t. “It must be nice working so close to home. I’m sure your mama’s happy about that.”

Really, Angelle? That’s what you come up with? You suck at small talk.

“Sure.” With a tight-lipped smile, Brady lifted his beer bottle as if to take another sip, then stopped to stare at the red and white label. “Things sure aren’t how I’d planned, but it’s nice being back all the same.”

Pressing the bottle to his lips, he took a long pull as Angelle winced. This was the most awkward conversation in the history of the universe. Nine months ago, she hadn’t thought it could get worse than telling this man she didn’t want to marry him. Particularly since she did so with an entire auditorium of friends and family there as witnesses. But wearing another man’s ring and faking a comfortable conversation while many of those same people looked on broke Angelle’s heart. She could only imagine what it was doing to Brady.

This was why she’d been so terrified to come home. It was never about her ex causing a scene or making trouble; Brady was too much of a gentleman to do that. No, what worried her was
this
—seeing him again, noting the pain in his eyes and the hope in her family’s, and having the pressure to make everyone else happy cause
her
will to dissolve. There was no doubt Brady was the safe route. The expected and easy course. It was what the town wanted for her, what her parents wanted.

It just wasn’t what
she
wanted.

Cane squeezed her side, perhaps sensing her torment, and she leaned into his strength. She needed it.

“So how did you two kids meet?” Brady winced as he asked, clearly as uncomfortable with prolonging this torture as she was, yet trying just as hard to be polite. If one of them didn’t call an end to this madness soon, she could very well go insane.

Wanting to get it over with as soon as possible, Angelle opened her mouth and answered, “At his restaurant,” at the same time Cane replied, “At a club.”

Brady’s eyes grew as wide as hay bales—or, more accurately, as wide as the two gaping holes in their story.

First, it was obvious they’d forgotten to discuss a few vital details for their ruse. Namely, details about
them
as a couple. Where they met, how and when he proposed, when they planned to get married. None of those things had even entered her mind before…but they were flashing in neon now.

Second, anyone who knew Angelle would know the club scene wasn’t for her. Too loud, too crowded, too full of opportunities to bust her ass in a klutzy fit on the dance floor. One would assume her fiancé would know that. Oops.

Cane’s amused brown eyes met hers, and Angelle wanted to slap him. This wasn’t
funny
. She forced a smile even as she felt her cheeks warm—no doubt they were glowing hot pink about now; lying was so not her forte—and turned to Brady. “Actually—”

“Actually it’s both.” Cane tugged her close and pressed his lips against her hair. Grateful for the save, and curious to hear how on earth he would answer, Angelle stared up in wonder. He winked. “One night this sexy redhead walked into the restaurant I own to meet my sisters. I couldn’t take my eyes off her, but who could blame me? She’s gorgeous.”

Angelle felt her cheeks grow hotter, but this time it had nothing to do with telling a lie. Cane chuckled. “Anyway, I overheard them talk her into heading to a club up the road, so I followed her like the infatuated stalker I am and asked for a dance. The rest, as they say, is history.”

The man was
good.
Too good, to be honest. The story he painted. The deep, rich voice he used telling it. Angie blinked and turned back to her ex, forcibly breaking the spell Cane had woven.

“That’s…nice.” Brady shoved his hand deep in his pocket, his familiar eyes dull beneath the rim of his ball cap. “Well, I guess I’ll let you two get on back to your conversation. I just wanted to come by and say hello. It’s been a while, Angie, but you look real good.” His mouth lifted in a pained smile as he took a step back. “Happy.”

“Oh, Brady, I don’t—”

He shook his head, cutting her off. “No, I’m glad. You being happy is what I wanted.” He looked to Cane and said, “You be sure to take care of her.”

The words were well intentioned; Angie knew that. But they still rankled. She didn’t
need
anyone to take care of her. That’s what the people in this town never understood. Somewhere along the way she’d lost her voice, but now she was more than the girl they once knew. Not too much more, but a definite work in progress. She was gearing up to say exactly that when Cane squeezed her hand and replied, “I like to think we take care of each
other
.”

Surprised—it was as if he’d stolen the words right from her head—Angelle looked up, and a mischievous grin crossed his face. “As I’m sure you know, this woman’s a spitfire. If she had to, I figure she can handle just about anything on her own. But as for treating her right…that I fully intend to do.”

His voice came out steady and clear like a promise. A veiled promise, because Angelle had the impression she was missing something. Like his words held a double meaning. What it was, she hadn’t a clue.

Brady nodded slowly, then with a released breath, held out his hand. “Nice meeting you, Cane.”

Her fake fiancé shook it and said, “Same goes.”

The two men exchanged a meaningful look, one she couldn’t begin to decipher, and then with a final whisper of a smile at Angelle, Brady turned and walked away.

“You okay, darlin’?” Cane placed a knuckle under her chin so he could study her eyes. “That sucked ass, but it’s over, right? The first big showdown is in the bag.”

He jostled her shoulder in an attempt to lift her sagging spirits, and she sighed. “Yeah, you’re right. It is, and actually, that went better than it could have, thanks to your quick thinking. Maybe now Brady can move on.” She hoped with all her heart that he would. Her ex really was a fine man, and he’d make some lucky woman an amazing husband. That woman just wasn’t her.

“Exactly,” Cane said. “So enough with the gloom and doom. Let’s get to work restoring that gorgeous smile of yours. I hear it’s a celebration. The black sheep of Bon Terre has returned, along with her city-boy fiancé. That kind of gossip doesn’t come to town every day. Such an occasion requires good eats, and my nose informs me we’ve got plenty of that to choose from.”

Nose in the air, he sniffed audibly, and despite the pain and discomfort of the last few minutes, Angelle couldn’t help but laugh. Cane winked. “See, there’s that smile I was looking for. Lights up every damn room you walk into, sweetheart. Now what do you say we get this outsider some grub?”

…

Twinkling lights strung among the trees clicked on as the sunlight faded. Light from inside the warm house glowed against the darkening sky. But even though there was a chill in the air, Angelle wasn’t budging. She enjoyed watching Cane in this setting. About an hour before, Ryan had pulled him into a hand of
bourre,
a Cajun card game that’s a blend of poker and spades. Troy was there, too, only slightly less welcoming—and a lot more intense. He was never rude to the man she’d brought home, merely watchful and aloof. Distant. But if it bothered Cane, she sure couldn’t tell. He’d been telling jokes for hours, teasing with the best of them. Once, he’d even got Troy to crack a smile.

From her perch on the old double swing, his claim of the
gris-gris
being cast on his hand reached her ears
. A fish out of water, my foot
, she thought with an amused grin. From the pieces she’d puzzled together from her own sly observations and Colby and Sherry’s nuggets of intel, Angie knew Cane was used to being in charge. He liked order, for things to stay the same. Being out of his element like this had to be a new experience. But when the half-empty bottle of Patron made its way to Cane, he took a giant swig without hesitation.

The country revealed a new side of Cane Robicheaux, unexpected nuances to his personality and character. The more she observed, the more she realized he resembled the yin-yang tattoo he’d inked on his skin. Cane was a duality of light and dark, tough and sweet, bad boy and protector. His country side openly smiled, seemed more relaxed, and watched her with hungry eyes. Okay, so the hungry eyes were far from new, but the determined fire beneath them was. And they brought a shiver to her skin that had zilch to do with the cool air.

As for Cane’s hidden protector, well, that was perhaps the most shocking of all. The last five months had revealed how he was with his sisters, but seeing him defend
her,
protect
her,
had Angelle’s heart beating a strange rhythm in her chest. She’d been protected all her life, but it always made her feel less than. Like no one believed she was able to do things herself or saw her as a growing woman. But with Cane, it was the exact opposite. With him, she was 100 percent woman, and when he stood up for her, it felt like
support
. Like caring.

Earlier, when a snooty cousin had approached, making a quip about Angelle being the Bon Terre equivalent of a runaway bride, Cane hadn’t hesitated to defend her. “She’s making a good life for herself,” he’d said, wrapping both arms around her waist. He’d smiled proudly and tugged her against his solid chest. “And I’m sure as hell glad she ran. I wouldn’t have met my angel otherwise.”

He seemed to like calling her that, his
angel.
With the way she’d hurt Brady and left her mama to deal with the fallout, Angelle was pretty sure she was far from angelic—but hearing him call her that made her feel special all the same. Cherished.

And that worried her more than Troy’s reaction.

Angelle couldn’t allow herself to forget this was only a farce, a charade for her family. This wasn’t the beginning of something real. It was possible there was more to the man than she’d originally thought, but how much of it was truth and how much was fiction—or painted by the memory of his yummy kisses? She was on a slippery slope, in danger of falling for her own lie.

A loud
smack
startled her as the back screen door hit the siding. A three-foot-tall bundle of energy zipped past, Angelle’s mama tailing right behind screaming, “Sadie,
t’es nu
!”

Angie laughed out loud. Truthfully, her godchild
wasn’t
naked. Sadie had on a hot pink bathrobe with big purple polka dots. But if the feisty four-year-old had been naked, it wouldn’t have been the first time Troy’s daughter streaked through a family gathering. Covering her mouth so as not to encourage her niece’s antics, Angelle watched her mother chase her around the yard. Apparently little Sadie wasn’t ready for bed.

“You’ve had your fun, now it’s time to get inside,” Mama cajoled, catching her breath as she leaned against a folding chair. “It’s cold cold out here,
cher.
You need to put some darn clothes on.”

Cane’s eyebrows snapped together at her mother’s choice of words. In the country, they often doubled words for emphasis. Like right now, it wasn’t
very
cold outside—it was cold cold. The delicious jambalaya they’d eaten earlier wasn’t
really
good—it was good good. Angie had learned that was a unique turn of the tongue after returning from her first fire and saying it’d been “hot hot.”

The boys at the firehouse had gotten a kick out of that.

Sadie shot past Eva’s attempted grasp and headed straight for the
bourre
table. Angelle’s sister-in-law slumped beside her on the swing and declared with a sigh, “That girl could try the patience of a nun.” She shook her head at Sadie skirting her daddy’s clutches. “But I love her to pieces. Do you know what she told me yesterday, when we were preparing for all this?” Angelle shook her head. “She said she couldn’t stop nagging everyone because her imaginary friends wouldn’t play with her.”