Cajun Two-Step- The Complete Series
Page 1
Contents
Cajun Two-Step Series
SECOND FIDDLE FLIRT
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Epilogue
SIX STRING SASS
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Epilogue
RIM SHOT REBOUND
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Epilogue
SQUEEZE BOX BELLE
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Epilogue
FREE BOOK
About Leigh Landry
More by Leigh Landry
Cajun Two-Step Series
Second Fiddle Flirt
Six String Sass
Rim Shot Rebound
Squeeze Box Belle
SECOND FIDDLE FLIRT
SECOND FIDDLE FLIRT by Leigh Landry
Published by Leigh Landry
Lafayette, LA, USA
© 2017 Leigh Landry
All rights reserved. This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the publisher, except as provided by United States of America copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Edited by Mackenzie Walton
Cover Photography from Depositphotos.com
Chapter 1
Lauren looked around her sister’s bedroom and wondered where the hell she was supposed to start.
Start at the beginning, Brandy’s smartass voice taunted in Lauren’s head.
She kicked in front of her, hoping to hit some ghost shin, but her foot only cut through the empty air.
Great. She was fighting the imaginary ghost of her dead sister. Not even her real ghost. Her imaginary one.
But sure, Lauren was the best person for this job.
She grabbed a cardboard box from the stack near the front door. Her parents’ house was too damn quiet. No soft jazz on the kitchen speakers. No Dad shouting at a football playoff game on the TV. She felt like a stranger called in to clean up while the family was away.
Not far from the truth.
Except Lauren had come crawling back home on her own, no thanks to her rat-bastard of an ex and her traitorous roommate. At least the news about Brandy had made it so she could go back to her parents’ house without having to reveal the gory details of why she really left her apartment. Even if that whole chain of events did lead to her currently arguing with her sister’s imaginary ghost.
Her parents’ Maltese, Millie, followed and settled into a small pet bed on the floor in Brandy’s room. Millie had recently been shaved, so she was sporting a blue snowflake Christmas sweater that Lauren’s parents had actually wrapped and put under the tree for the dog.
While Lauren debated whether to start in Brandy’s closet or dresser or to run from the house and never look back, a black case propped against the wall caught her eye.
She crossed the room and placed the case on the neatly made bed that hadn’t been slept in for months. Not since Brandy’s last deployment.
With a click, both locks snapped open, and Lauren lifted the lid. She held the bridge of the fiddle in one hand and traced the outline of the smooth, cool body.
Anyone else might mistake this for her own violin, but they couldn’t be more wrong. Not because of some ridiculous violin versus fiddle myth she and every other string musician were sick of dismantling. No, this instrument was essentially the same in nature as hers, but this one, this fiddle with the almost identical wood stain and resonance, was never meant for her hands.
She plucked a few strings. Almost in tune. Still.
When was the last time Brandy had played it? Had she and Mom still been having jam sessions when she came home? It wasn’t like they invited Lauren anymore, so she had no way of knowing.
She held the bow just above the strings. Her breath caught in her chest and she forced herself to inhale deeply and exhale a tight, slow stream of air. As soon as she gathered her nerve and touched the bow to the strings, the doorbell rang out and the dog completely lost her shit, causing Lauren to jump and nearly drop the instrument.
Taking it as a sign from the universe, Lauren placed the fiddle and bow on the bed and walked to the front door.
“Calm your ass down, Millie.” The dog barked her head off and hopped in circles on her back feet in front of the entrance.
Crap.
It was the middle of winter, and Lauren had on a thin gray T-shirt and navy sweatpants. They might live in South Louisiana, but cold was cold, and there was no way she could answer the door poking out like that. She grabbed a sweater from the coat rack by the door. It was her mom’s answering-the-door sweater, and it was uglier than sin, a peachy pink color with wild birds embroidered on it. Not even cute birds. Mousy brown finches or something.
She wrapped the offending garment around her body and across her chest before squinting through the peep hole. The distorted view only revealed a man with an open box in his hands, looking back toward the road. He wasn’t wearing a uniform, so not a delivery guy. Maybe a neighbor she didn’t recognize got the wrong package.
She frowned and looked at the wild beast at her feet. “Okay, Millie, if this isn’t a nice guy, bite his calves, all right?”
Millie barked and scratched at the framework.
When Lauren opened the door, her eyes landed on a giant of a man. He snapped his neck around to face her, and she reeled in recognition. He might have ballooned a few muscles, sprouted some thick stubble, and grown out his buzz-cut an inch, but she recognized his dark eyes and the rest of his face immediately.
“Tyler?”
Millie continued to bark, but now she was hopping on the man’s steel-toe boots and scratching at his legs for him to pick her up.
Lauren kind of wanted to do the same.
“Lauren,” he said with a deep, sleepy drawl.
Tyler stared at her for a long time, his eyes lingering curiously on her mother’s peachy finch sweater wrapped tightly around her body. He was a full head taller than her, and his worn brown T-shirt stretched across his chest. Tiny goose bumps dotted the tanned skin of his arms, which were possibly bigger than Lauren’s head. She lifted her gaze to find the outline of dog tags beneath the thin, knit fabric of his shirt.
Lauren bit her lip so she wouldn’t drool on herself. This boy—er, man, now—was off limits. Had been ever since he spent his first night on their couch when they were kids, back when Lau
ren came face-to-face with her first full-blown crush. Her sister’s best friend. He was even more off limits now that she couldn’t look at him without thinking about her sister.
Her heart raced while her stomach churned. She could practically feel her sister standing next to him.
They hadn’t seen much of Tyler since he was discharged. She couldn’t remember where he worked now. Something offshore, in the oil field, maybe. That would explain why he wasn’t at the funeral.
With a shake of his head, Tyler broke his stare and looked down at the box in his hands. “I found some things.”
“Things?”
After a pause, he said, “Brandy’s things.”
“Oh.” Lauren was a little afraid to look in the box.
“Yeah.” He stared down into it.
Her brain stuttered trying to think of something to say. She’d never had trouble talking to Tyler before, but on a scale of one to that-recurring-dream-she-had-of-performing-on-stage-naked, this conversation was off-the-charts awkward so far.
Three sharp yaps from Millie punctuated the heavy, uncomfortable moment. Lauren bent down to pick up the mostly-naked-looking rat-dog, and held the animal against her chest while giving her a disapproving look.
“Sorry. She’s my parents’ dog. Spoiled rotten.”
He balanced the box in one arm and scratched the side of Millie’s face with the other hand. “Yeah, I know.”
“Right. Of course.”
Lauren cleared her throat and tried to shake off sounding like an idiot. She saw her parents for holidays and sometimes when Brandy was in town, but they were always meeting at other family members’ houses or at restaurants. If Tyler hung out with Brandy every time they were on leave, he probably saw her parents and the dog more times than she had over the last few years. No wonder Millie was excited to see Tyler.
He shivered against a cold breeze. Lauren couldn’t believe he was out there without long sleeves or a jacket in the middle of January.
She moved to the side and gestured in the house. “You want to come in? I have to go to work in a minute, but—”
“No.” He shook his head like she’d just offered him a sack full of snakes. “I mean…no. I’m good, thanks.” He held the box in front of him. “I just thought you guys might want these.”
“Okay.” Lauren put a squirming Millie on the ground and took the box. It looked like a bunch of junk. None of it screamed Brandy. Not to her, at least. “You sure you don’t want to keep any of this?”
That head shake again.
Her chest ached at the sight of Tyler like this—red eyes, tense jaw…broken. While he had been Brandy’s friend, Tyler and Lauren always had easy conversations when they were teenagers. She kept waiting for him to tease her or crack a joke or do something normal. But nothing about this was normal.
“No. I’m fine. Really.” He scooped up Millie in one giant hand to snuggle her against his chest while nuzzling her with his scruffy face.
Lauren looked around nervously, anywhere but at Tyler, so she wouldn’t turn into a puddle of goo. “Well, I’ll be here all weekend. It’s my job apparently to go through all of his stuff, so you’ve got good timing.”
She tried to make it sound light and joking, but Tyler’s face drooped.
“I’m sorry. Your parents aren’t home?”
After the fifth or sixth time this past month watching her mom walk into Brandy’s room only to collapse, sobbing in bed for the rest of the day, Lauren had offered to take on the job of going through Brandy’s things herself. It was the least she could do for being a sad excuse for their only remaining kid. So after a little convincing, her dad put her mom in the car and headed three hours east to New Orleans for a weekend of music, shopping, eating, and forgetting. At least for a little while.
“No, out of town.” She shrugged, brushing off the smothering anxiety and mountain of grief she’d have to face alone over the next few days. “It’ll be fine.”
He stared at her for a second, those dark eyes of his seeing right through her. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it tight again.
“Well,” Lauren said, “if you find anything else, I’ll be here sorting things all weekend.”
Tyler nodded. “Want me to text first to make sure you’re here if I swing by with something?”
“You can always drop it off near the garage.”
She wanted to kick herself. Physically, actually kick herself. She’d had a crush on this guy for an entire decade. Awkward timing now, to say the least, but it wasn’t like she was trying to bang Brandy’s best friend at her funeral. He was just offering a phone number.
“Or yeah, text me,” she said.
She gave him her cell number, and he punched it in his phone and smiled. “Got it.”
That smile. She’d do anything to see that on him again. He didn’t look like he’d been doing much smiling lately. Understandable. She hadn’t been doing much of it herself.
Still, it looked good on him. Really good.
“Okay, well, I guess I should get ready for work,” she said.
Lauren put the box on the floor inside and took Millie from Tyler, shivering a little as their skin brushed in the hand-off.
“You still work at that coffee shop?” Tyler asked.
“No.” The coffee shop was two jobs ago. No, three. But Tyler, the poster boy for responsibility, didn’t need to know that detail. “I work at Vermilion Printing and Gifts.”
“Oh, I love that place. I buy birthday T-shirts for my niece from there.”
“Yeah, it’s great. I really like working there.” So far. She’d only been working there a couple of months. Again, a detail he didn’t need.
“Well, I’ll let you get to work.” He scratched Millie’s ear. “Let me know if you need anything. Any help this weekend. With…whatever.”
Lauren got the clear impression that he’d rather swallow flaming swords than help her clear out Brandy’s room, which made his offer mean even more.
“Thanks. Really, thanks.”
He smiled again, and Lauren put all her energy into her wobbly knees and focused on staying upright.
“Well, see ya,” she said.
“See ya.”
Lauren closed the door and smooshed her face against Millie’s shorn fur. “We can only hope he finds more stuff to drop off. Right, Mil?”
Millie licked Lauren’s face in agreement.
* * * * *
Tyler dropped his keys on the old, round dining table and grabbed a can of orange soda from the fridge. He shuffled out the back door to the tiny yard, where his roommate gestured to the empty folding chair beside him.
“Hey, man. Feel any better?”
Tyler half grunted, half laughed. “Not exactly.”
“What’s that mean?” Darren scratched the side of his gray pit bull’s face when she walked up and put her head on his lap.
Nicki was the sweetest dog ever, and the tiny speck of grass behind their rental house downtown was plenty for the old girl. Tyler couldn’t imagine how hard it was going to hit his roommate when she wasn’t around anymore.
Actually, he could imagine.
“Her parents weren’t there.”
“Bummer,” said Darren. “So you’ll have to go back, or did you leave the box somewhere?”
“Neither. Her sister took it.”
“Well, that’s good, right?”
Good? Sure, seeing Lauren had been good. Seeing Lauren was always good.
Too good.
His mind brought up the image of her standing in the doorway, making navy sweatpants look sexy. And whatever that sweater was. It was covered in ugly birds. Fucking hideous. But with those waves of reddish-brown hair falling over her shoulders, he didn’t give a shit what was on her sweater. He only cared about how her face lit up when she saw him. At least for a moment.
“I mean, you gave the box and your condolences, right?” Darren asked. “Got some closure?”
Closure. That’s wh
at he’d gone over there for. He felt awful about missing the funeral. And even more awful for not marching over there to offer Brandy’s family his condolences the minute he got back from offshore. But even when he finally got around to making that trip across town, it didn’t change anything. His best friend was still gone. And he still felt guilty as hell about it.
“Yeah, I guess,” Tyler said.
“What’s bugging you? That they weren’t home or…” Darren grinned like the Cheshire Cat. “You’ve got a thing for the sister.”
“No.” Tyler had gotten so used to denying that fact over the years that the word fell out of his mouth before he even considered the answer.
“Yeah, you do. I know that look.”
Tyler took a sip of soda. “Doesn’t matter.”
“Like hell it doesn’t.” Darren picked up a tennis ball and lobbed it across the yard. Nicki trotted after it. “I get that it’s weird. I’m not saying go jump her right now or nothing. But maybe…I don’t know. Maybe just don’t close that door so fast?”
Cold wind cut across his face, and Tyler shivered against it. He regretted grabbing the cold soda can before he came outside.
Nicki trotted back a little more slowly with the ball in her mouth and dropped it at Tyler’s feet. He tossed it a few feet away, but she only looked at it then plopped herself heavily on his shoes.
“Maybe.”
Darren stood and stretched. “I’m heading to work. Want me to bring you something tonight?”
He was a line cook at a Cuban restaurant a few blocks away. Tyler looked forward to his post-shift takeout when he was home.
“Yeah, sure.” Tyler stood too, glad to go inside out of the cold. He’d been freezing standing outside talking to Lauren. He almost took her up on her offer to go inside for a minute, but he knew if he did it would be for more than to just get out of the cold.
“Wait,” he said. “Maybe not.”
With a mischievous grin, Darren said, “I’ll check with you before I leave to see if you want food. Hopefully you’ll come to your senses and have other plans.”
“It’s not like that.”