Seven Day Fiance: A Love and Games Novel (Entangled Bliss) (16 page)

Chapter Fifteen

Delightfully sore muscles fought back as Angelle languidly stretched from her cozy pallet on the floor. Early morning light filtered through slats of aged wood, casting the loft in a soft, romantic glow. Or maybe that was just Angie’s love-addled brain. Joy bubbled in her chest as she thought about last night. It had been nothing short of perfection.

Sighing happily, she surveyed the remains of her night of seduction. Candles long burned out, Sherry’s lingerie torn and abandoned in the corner—it appeared she owed her roommate one new nightie—and her rumpled, familiar comforter, now smelling of Cane’s cologne. Bunching a section in her hands, she sniffed with a grin. The only thing missing from the best night of her life was the man himself. Her yummy fiancé.

Of course, he was her
fake
fiancé, but somehow in light of the night they’d shared, that detail didn’t seem as significant as it had a few days ago. She hadn’t woken up crazy, or certifiable like his ex Becca—wedding bells weren’t ringing in her ears, and bridesmaid dresses weren’t flashing before her eyes. But she
was
in love with him. That truth became easier to admit the more she thought it, so assuming he was out answering nature’s call, she whispered it aloud.

“I’m in love with Cane Robicheaux.”

Now she needed to find the right time to tell
him
. See if his feelings were anywhere close to hers. She knew it was a long shot, but when they’d made love, Cane had stroked her with an almost worshipful intensity. Not an inch of her skin had been untouched by his lips, tongue, or fingertips. Even when it had gotten wild—warmth flooded her skin as she remembered a few rowdy moments in particular—he’d stared at her as if he really saw her. Genuinely cared about her.

Her grin widened as she pushed to her feet, only to have it drop a shade when she looked around again. Her faux-betrothed’s pit stop was taking longer than she would’ve expected. “Cane?”

When he didn’t answer and she didn’t hear rustling outside the barn, Angelle decided he must be in the main house fixing breakfast. The man was a phenomenal cook…and today
was
a special day, after all. For the last eighteen years, it had been edged with sadness, but maybe this was just another sign that she’d somehow turned a corner.

Her empty stomach rumbled as she pondered when Sherry might have slipped him intel about today. She’d planned to tell him yesterday before matters that were much more urgent presented themselves. Angelle grinned. Stretching again, muscles she hadn’t known existed fussed in protest, but her smile grew with every twinge of discomfort. It had been worth it. So very,
very
worth it.

“Maybe we can squeeze in round two before we leave,” she said, slipping on her robe. Knotting the belt, she corrected herself. “Or more like round five.”

With a happy bounce in her step, she set to work cleaning up because having her parents stumble upon their love nest was
not
an option. It was true she was an adult, but there were just some topics that should never be discussed with one’s mother. Or one’s father.
Ever
.

Grabbing the duffel bag, Angie began filling it with mementos. She stupidly wanted to save it all. Her first time had turned out better than she could’ve imagined, and while the props hadn’t been what made it so—that was all Cane—they’d borne witness to the moment her life had shifted. This was the start of something new. The warmth swimming in her chest and gushing through her veins was proof of that.

As it turned out, taking a chance on Cane had been the best gamble of her life.

Sending Amber a silent thank-you, she placed the last candle in her bag.

Sherry’s torn lingerie and the empty silver packets were balled for the trash. The comforter refolded and shoved inside the bag. A prickle of worry formed when Cane still hadn’t returned from the kitchen, but Angelle sent it packing with a shake of her head. Maybe he’d run into her parents and gotten sidetracked, though she really hoped not. He must’ve taken his clothes because they were gone, which meant he wasn’t walking around half-naked, but unfortunately, she couldn’t say the same.

Mental note: add
change of clothes
to future sex to-do lists.

Luckily, Angie’s parents woke with the sun and usually left early during the festival. Figuring she was in the clear, she shouldered the massive duffel bag and took off for the main house. When she opened the back door, the scent of bacon and fresh baked bread hit her nose. Her knees went weak.

“There you are. I—” The sight of her parents made Angelle freeze in the doorway. Cool air blew up the hem of her robe, making it
pointedly
obvious the thin garment was all she was wearing. “Mama, Daddy. I’d assumed you’d be at the park by now.”

Stepping fully inside, she tugged the door closed behind her and folded an arm across her chest, praying her face wasn’t as crimson as she imagined it was. A glance at the microwave clock said it was six thirty-five. Earlier than she’d thought.

Mama set her coffee mug on the counter and cleared her throat. “We’re heading out as soon as your daddy finishes his second cup.” She gestured toward her husband, who nodded, making a point not to stare too long in Angie’s direction. Every tangle in her hair and each abrasion on her fair skin from Cane’s stubble felt magnified. A knowing smile flirted at her mama’s mouth. “And where’d your fiancé get off to so early this morning? I see his truck’s gone.”

Embarrassment faded as Angelle’s eyebrows snapped together. “What?”

She turned to look out the kitchen window, her lips parted in confusion. Mama was right. Cane’s truck was gone.

What the heck?
She narrowed her eyes on the empty spot in the driveway where Cane’s truck once sat as if it would miraculously give her an answer. Because there had to be one. A reason why he’d left that made sense.
Any
explanation other than the one she was thinking. The one that made her stomach sink to her toes. But what?

He had to have left early. Mama asking meant neither of her parents had seen him, and they’d been awake for at least an hour. It was possible he was just up the road shopping, getting…getting…getting
what
?

There was nothing he could need this early in the morning. Everything he could possibly want for breakfast was already in the house. The chickens in the backyard provided a steady supply of eggs, and her mama kept all the staples. Even if she hadn’t, every store in Bon Terre was a ten-to-fifteen-minute round trip. Tops.

Could he have driven back to Magnolia Springs? Angelle’s chest tightened at the thought of a possible emergency with his sisters, or even their family restaurant. But then, why wouldn’t he have woken her up? She’d grown to think of his family as her adopted second one, and as a citizen of Magnolia Springs, Robicheaux’s was important to her.

Angie’s vision swam as the room tilted. There’d been no note. She’d cleaned the entire loft, so she would’ve found it. Fear lodged in her throat.

This wasn’t happening.

Dazed, and 100 percent in denial that the man she loved, the man she’d been so sure felt the same, had ditched her, Angie turned back to her parents. She caught them exchanging a look.
No
. The last thing she needed was them sounding the alarm and rounding up the posse. She needed to think, to process—and she needed to do that
alone.

“Oh, that’s right.” Forcing a laugh that sounded off even to her ears, she took a shaky step toward the hall, squeezing her bag against her chest as if it could somehow shield her from pain. “Cane wanted to watch the sunrise over Bayou Teche.”

The excuse was weak. She knew it, and she could tell her parents knew it. But it wasn’t as weak as her next words. “He’ll be back.”

A sob built in her core as she took another step.

He’ll be back.

She could feel the pressure mounting, rising with each foot of ground she gained. When she reached the doorway, it came out as a strangled moan and Angelle clamped her lips into a wavering smile. Her daddy’s jaw ticked as he set down the newspaper. Pity lined both their faces. She shook her head. “He’ll be back.”

She bolted down the hall.

He’ll be back.

The words kept repeating as hot tears blinded her path. Flinging open the door, she closed and locked it behind her, the words becoming a mantra as tremors rocked her body. Angie’s legs gave out. The mantra became a prayer as she sank to the floor, drew up her knees, and curled herself into a ball, fighting for breath.

He’ll be back.

But even as she thought it, wished it,
prayed
it, she knew the truth. Cane had left her. And she was an idiot. A brokenhearted idiot who’d fallen for the playboy. Oh, he was good; she gave him that. Cane had never promised her a thing. That had all been Angie. She’d just assumed.

Even now, faced with the truth, her mind refused to accept it. Had he really spent a week with her family just to get in her pants? She didn’t know if she should be shocked, flattered, or appalled that she warranted such behavior. But more than anything, more than the humiliation of knowing she’d fallen for the lie, for the game, and that her own parents had witnessed it, what hurt her the most was that she’d honestly thought they’d become friends. She’d certainly grown to consider Cane as such—but friends didn’t do this. They didn’t act as though they gave a shit, and then take it all away. They didn’t leave without a word.

Didn’t she at least warrant a note? A phone call? Some kind of explanation?

As if on cue, her cell phone buzzed on the dresser. She’d left it there in her mad rush of preparation last night. She knew she should reach up and get it. Read whatever lie he’d concocted to explain his actions. She’d
just
told herself she wanted to know. But did she really?

The phone buzzed again.

Placing her hands on the ground, Angelle decided it was time to put on her big girl panties. If she was mature enough to handle sleeping with the man, she should be mature enough to deal with the fallout. Maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as she feared. And then if it was, well, better she know now. Rip off the Band-Aid.

As she clamored to her feet, she glimpsed her reflection in the mirror. Whisker burn and swollen lips collided with red-rimmed puffy eyes and ghostly pale skin. She looked like an unhinged extra on
The Walking Dead
. Grabbing the phone without reading the message, her eyes fell on the bottle cap from the night she babysat Sadie with Cane. Without thinking, she picked it up and closed her hand around it. The phone buzzed again.

Hoping the talisman would bring her luck, she inhaled a deep breath of courage and glanced down. A series of messages waited. Scrolling through them, she searched for the name of the man she loved. The closest she came was his baby sister. Tapping on Sherry’s text, Angelle’s eyes pooled with fresh tears.

Her best friend and roommate’s face filled the screen, blowing a kiss over the words, “
Happy Birthday, future sister-in-law! Xoxo.
”

…

People of every age and size packed Les Acadiens Park. It was day two of the Cracklin Festival and while tourists strolled, children screamed, and a crew of Bon Terre’s finest manned booths, the rest of the town stood near the large stage at the back of the field. Although the mayor was at the microphone, going over activities to be done that day and during tomorrow’s parade and Fais Do Do, Cane knew the focus of the crowd was directed at him.

Or, more like split equally between him and Angelle, who was not standing beside him. And who was standing
way
too close to her ex.

Cane wanted to punch something. Neither of them had spotted him yet, even with the whispers of the crowd. He was behind them, several feet to the left, far enough not to make a scene but close enough to watch Brady’s arm flirt with holding her. By his watch, the man had moved to put it around Angelle’s waist three times. If he ever finally did, Cane wouldn’t be responsible for his actions.

Hands fisted in his pockets, tension knotted in his shoulders, Cane knew he deserved this. The jealous fire raging in his blood. The torment of knowing he’d caused Angelle pain and watching another man try to pick up the pieces. This was his payback. Seeing Angelle’s haunted profile, her smile broken.
He’d
done that to her. He really was an ass.

A dumb ass, too, because he’d actually thought the desperate need he’d had, the consuming possession he’d felt, would disappear once he’d had her. It hadn’t. Hours spent staring at the cold, open highway proved how flawed that logic had been. One night with Angelle hadn’t gotten her out of his system. If anything, she’d only burrowed deeper.

Right now, the need to hold her in his arms, to kiss away that pain was so strong Cane nearly shook with it. But he’d bide his time. He’d wait for her dad to finish and the group to disband, and then he’d speak with her. Alone. Without her adoring ex clinging to her like a leech.

As if the slime could hear his thoughts, Brady lifted his head. He scanned the crowd and when his eyes locked on Cane, an emotion akin to hate sparked in the
good
doctor’s eyes.

Maybe the man wasn’t the pushover Cane had pegged him to be. Behind him, Ryan and Troy stood a concerned guard, also clearly in the know that something had gone down. Only the fact that Cane was still standing with two functional testicles proved she hadn’t confessed the
whole
story.

Brady narrowed his eyes, a clear warning for him to stay away, then turned back to the stage. A mild case of respect formed for the man…but not enough for Cane to heed the warning. This wasn’t any of Brady’s damn business. And the fact that he wanted to be Angelle’s soft place to land had Cane entertaining thoughts of running his head into the damn stage.

“I guess that’s about it,” Angelle’s father said, snapping Cane’s focus back to the front. “Anyone needing a costume for tomorrow’s parade please see Dottie at the information desk. Other than that, y’all go on and have fun!”