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

by Rachel Harris

  Ignoring the voice screaming in his head, muting the ringing alarm, and flipping off the caveman thrill of knowing he’d be her first, Cane cupped her shoulders. “I’ll make it good for you. I promise.”

  A beautiful, knowing smile broke across her face as she said, “I’m counting on it.”

  …

  Only one of Angelle’s candles remained lit. All the others had burned out. They’d exhausted every song on her sex soundtrack—twice—and then passed out. Thankfully without setting the barn on fire. Stretching his neck, Cane looked down at the woman asleep in his arms, a sated smile still curving her swollen mouth. He ducked his head and kissed it.

  A happy sigh of contentment escaped her parted lips as she curled into his side. Cane waited a moment to see if she was awake, then, convinced she was down for the count, grabbed the edge of the blanket and threw it over their bodies. He stared at the support beams overhead and inwardly cursed.

  He’d screwed up.

  He’d taken her virginity. He’d sensed she felt more for him than she should, but he’d done it anyway. This hadn’t been a casual hookup for Angelle. She would never forget tonight—and now, neither would he.

  Guilt and protectiveness warred with a mounting sense of dread. It was true he hadn’t forced her into anything. And he’d made no promises for the future. So really, tonight should be no different from any other night he’d spent with a willing woman. And Angelle had been willing. He’d been ready to walk, and she’d convinced him to stay.

  None of that made him feel any less like an ass.

  Angelle’s weight sank more into him and her lips made a soft smacking noise. Her breaths were slow and even. Clearly, she wasn’t wasting time overthinking things. She wasn’t lying there, asking for forever. Maybe this was all him. Once he got his head straight, maybe everything would be fine. They’d finish up the ruse as planned, then leave in a few days as friends. Good friends who happened to know each other really well.

  Cane’s guilt lessened a fraction, and he pressed his lips against her hair.

  Her drowsy head shifted. “Is it morning?” she asked, kissing the tattoo over his chest. A spot she’d shown a lot of special attention.

  Chuckling, Cane tucked the blanket tightly around her gorgeous body. From the dim glow on the wood, he’d say it was just around dawn. “Go back to sleep. You have a long day ahead of you.” He smirked at the ceiling. “And you had a very adventurous night.”

  Angelle laughed softly and pinched the skin along his rib cage. “Okay,” she said, snuggling against him. “But only for another hour or so.” She threw her leg over his hip, yawned long and loud, then, wrapping an arm around his waist, whispered, “Love you.”

  Cane’s body turned to stone as Angelle’s soft snores filled the loft.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The main road leading out of Bon Terre had been foggy and empty. The interstate headed toward New Orleans wasn’t much different. Cane was driving home, jaw flexed, self-hate roiling in his gut, and only a smattering of cars had passed him on the highway. Everyone else was still in bed. Warm and sleeping, maybe making love. Wrapped around the person they cared about—like Cane should have been. Instead, he was alone in his truck, with nothing but disgust and shame to keep him company.

  If he hadn’t been an asshole before, he sure as hell was one now.

  Angelle Prejean loved him. Never could he have imagined a woman saying those words to him, much less a woman like her. She was the type of woman who could star in those sappy movies his sisters loved. Good, kind, adorable. Sexy as hell. And she deserved a man from those movies, the kind who could give her a Hollywood ending. The only thing Cane could offer was a good roll in the hay. But even though he’d known that all along, he’d still pursued her.

  Angelle also deserved for her first time to have been with someone who would say those three words back. Who could say those three words back. Not an asshole who’d leave the moment the deed was done, treating her like she was a damn booty call.

  Cane cursed under his breath.

  Some cold-blooded shit. That’s what it was. She’d given him her virginity, and he’d taken off like a bat out of hell. Or like the asshole he’d proven himself to be.

  The kicker was he didn’t even know why he’d left. It had been basic instinct. Angelle had whispered her sleep confession, passed out again, and then he’d bolted. No note, no explanation. Just took off, knowing the whole time he pulled on his clothes, slid on his shoes, and nearly busted his ass on the missing step of the ladder, that it was wrong. But he’d done it anyway. And now, it was too late. He’d been driving for almost two hours. He couldn’t undo his actions.

  His right hand closed around the cell phone sitting in his lap. It hadn’t rung once. Surely she was awake by now, had realized he’d left. But she hadn’t called. He could do the honorable thing and call her, but what the hell would he say? Raking a hand through his hair, Cane thought about his next step. No way was he coming back from this. Maybe, eventually, Angelle would forgive him enough to tolerate his presence, but that friendship he’d wanted? That real, honest relationship he’d never had with a woman but had come to believe was something he needed in his life, at least when that woman was Angelle? That got blown to shit the second he walked out of the barn.

  His mind fired up the image burned into his retinas that hours of driving hadn’t shook. When he’d first put his feet on the rung to leave, he’d hesitated for a brief second. In the glow of the flashlight, Angelle’s hair had shone like a fiery halo, and a soft smile had curved her mouth. An electrical jolt had hit his chest at just how perfect she was. Then she’d made a noise and shifted—and he’d fled.

  Spying the sign declaring Magnolia Springs only thirty-five miles away, he slammed his hand against the steering wheel. “Fuck!”

  What in the hell was he doing?

  He was leaving her to pick up the pieces, alone. Heartbroken and confused. He was letting down the entire town, not to mention all the kids hoping to see Papa Noel. And he was disrespecting the family who’d taken him in, against their better judgment, and who had reminded him of all the things he’d been missing.

  Noting the upcoming exit, Cane flicked the turn signal and gunned the engine. It looked like he was becoming well acquainted with the interstate today.

  He shook his head as he glanced at the clock. By the time he got back to Bon Terre, Angelle would be at the parade ground. The entire town would be there, too, believing God only knew what about him and their so-called engagement. But Cane didn’t care. He’d walk straight into the firing squad, knowing it was going to be awkward as hell, because that’s what a man did. The kind of man he wanted to be, and the kind of man he’d vowed to be.

  He would find Angelle and explain. Apologize for his actions and for leading her on, and then pray she forgave him for hurting her. He’d get her to understand why he left even when he couldn’t.

  And if she tells you to go to hell?

  A sharp ache twisted in Cane’s chest. Right underneath the yin-yang tattoo Angelle loved so much.

  If she refused to forgive him, then he’d have to accept it. But he wouldn’t let her down. He’d agreed to come on this trip and help her win over her hometown, and as long as his mother’s ring was on her finger, Cane was still her fake fiancé.

  For better or worse, right?

  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.

  E
ven 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.”