Right now, he was dry. He was under a roof, warm and adequately dressed to impress the in-laws. But her smile was hypnotic. Placing his hand in hers, unsure why he was even doing it, he let her tug him into the storm.
As expected, it was cold. And wet. If anyone saw them out here—and with their photographic luck, people were definitely watching—they’d think he was nuts. But that didn’t matter because his adorable, silly, crazy-as-hell wife dropped his hand and began dancing. Spinning in a circle, laughing at nothing, scrunching her nose and making a Mick Jagger face as she shimmied her shoulders and swirled those luscious hips.
It was mesmerizing.
“Dancing isn’t a spectator sport,” she called out, eyebrow lifted, twirling again. “Don’t tell me you don’t dance, music man. I ain’t buying it.”
Oh, he had some moves. Not great moves, mind you, but he could carry his own. So, with his sassy brunette watching and waiting, Tyler gave the quiet street a cursory glance, and then bopped his head.
“Niiice,” Sherry teased, throwing her head back in a laugh. “Watch out, Timberlake.”
Shaking his head, a smile twitching his lips, he added his feet. Pleasure filled her eyes as she followed his every step, so he also did a Michael Jackson moonwalk, complete with a crotch grab. That sent her into hysterics. And made him feel like a damn king.
There was no music, no beat other than the rain hitting the roof of the house and cars, but he danced anyway. They boogied together, in a storm, in public where anyone could watch (and the bodyguard parked out front definitely was). It was so completely unlike him, and it felt ridiculous. Dumb and stupid…and completely free.
After another sidestep of her own, Sherry spun into his chest and slid her hands around his neck. “I’ve never seen you let go and be utterly silly before.” She nodded slowly in approval. “It looks good on you.”
“Yeah, well, don’t get too used to it,” he replied, slipping his thumbs along her cheeks to catch the runny lines of mascara. Even looking like a drowned rat, she was gorgeous. “From now on, I think I’ll reserve wet and wild for only special occasions.”
An emotion sparked in her eyes. Eyebrow lifted, she dropped her voice to a seductive purr and said, “But you’ll never forget your first.”
Tyler swallowed as she drew her tongue along her lips to lick the moisture. Damn, what he wouldn’t give to be truly alone. At his sprawling house in Nashville, acres of land to hide in, with zero chance of spying. Plenty of room to explore other rainy-day fantasies…
Her wicked grin said she’d read his thoughts, and Sherry stepped out of his hold. “Come on. The family awaits.”
Family. Like the slightly intimidating brother he’d already met, and the one who ran into burning buildings for a living. Yeah, that killed his raging libido. Well played.
Desire in check, he followed Sherry back up the porch.
Sherry had said they’d all grown up in this house and inherited equal shares when their parents died, but this was now officially Cane’s home. That didn’t stop his little sister from walking straight in as if she owned it, though. Once she’d rung out her hair on the welcome mat, she pushed the door wide and called out across the open foyer, “Let the party start. The guests of honor are in the house!”
From somewhere inside, laughter drifted, sliding over the notes of smooth jazz. Tyler walked inside and stared at a giant fleur-de-lis, mounted above an old grandfather clock. It was as if he’d walked through his own childhood door. Chest strangely tight, he kicked off his shoes, noted the crucifix mounted over the door, and then followed Sherry across the hardwood foyer.
Just off the entryway was a cozy, informal living room. Cane, Angelle, and a man with dark hair were standing along one side, near a large window that overlooked the front yard. A fantastic spot to catch an impromptu dance recital in the rain.
That was one way to make an impression.
Angelle shook her head with a smile. “I’ll go get y’all some towels.” She looked them both up and down. “And wrangle up a change of clothes.”
Following her gaze, he found a small puddle at his feet. Normally, jeans leaking water on hardwood would be strike two in the impression department—but then again, this was Sherry’s family. Looking back up, he said, “Guess I can scratch rain dancing from the old bucket list.”
Angelle laughed and scooted past with a wink. “Nice to see you again, Tyler.”
He turned his attention to the two relatives remaining.
“Jason Landry,” the unknown man said as way of introduction, grinning as he walked forward. He yanked a strand of Sherry’s wet hair, and she playfully slapped his fingers away. “Welcome to the family,” he said, taking Tyler’s extended hand in a shake. “If you hurt my girl, I’ll dismember you.” Then he smacked his shoulder and smiled wide. “Want a beer?”
“Good Lord, the raging testosterone is giving me the vapors.” Sherry fanned herself before elbowing Jason in the stomach and turning to Tyler. “Don’t believe a word he says. These two cavemen are total teddy bears underneath.”
“More like grisly,” Cane said, joining the trio.
Tyler nodded, watching as the three went on teasing one another, unsure what to say or how to jump in. It was like the world was suddenly in fast forward. Or flip-flopped to a land where streaming water onto the hardwood and threats of bodily harm were normal occurrences. Maybe in Sherry’s family, they were. It appeared the entire lot was as crazy as she was, and while he appreciated that, liked it even, that damn beer was sounding good about now.
“I’m sure he knows how it is,” Cane said, grabbing a longneck from the coffee table and handing it over with a knowing look. “Have any sisters, Tyler?”
“Nope.” He twisted off the cap and took a long pull. That was better. “Only child. Lots of cousins, though. In high school, I had to dunk a dude’s head in the toilet for standing one up at her prom.”
Cane nodded and exchanged a look with Jason. “Yeah, he’ll fit right in.”
Sherry peered up at him through thick lashes and gave the world’s sweetest smile. He pulled her soaked body against his and squeezed tight, lifting his beer to his lips. So far so good.
In many ways, this felt familiar. The Robicheauxs reminded Tyler of his own family. Blue men loved to tease, to poke and push, never meaning harm, and they always looked out for their own.
Nostalgia slammed against his ribs. He grasped Sherry’s hips, unprepared for the onslaught.
“Here you go,” Angelle said, returning with a batch of towels straight from the dryer and a set of Cane’s clothes. She held up a pair of workout pants and a tee. “I thought these could work. You’re around the same height.”
That was sweet and southern for saying Cane’s jeans wouldn’t fit, since the dude was twice his size, bulk-wise. But beggars can’t be choosers. Kissing the crown of Sherry’s head, letting the scent of her floral shampoo calm his racing heart, he thanked his host and ducked into the bathroom down the hall.
Closing the door behind him, he leaned against the wood and released a breath.
Performing and traveling the world kept Tyler busy. Kept him from thinking too much about home. But here, in this house, everything caught up with him at once. Memories of family parties filled with laughter and rowdy teasing. Dad playing music with his garage band, Mom on the covered swing, watching with adoration. On good days like that, they’d forget she was even sick. That her time with them was running short. Afterward, she’d head straight for bed, completely wiped, but his mom had lived for those stress-free gatherings. Tyler had, too.
Shaking away the wave of homesickness, Tyler emerged fully dressed and found a slightly older version of Sherry, minus the purple streaks and sassy smirk, leaned against the opposite wall.
“Hey there, I’m Colby. I’m tucked away in the kitchen but wanted to say hello.” She shot a look in the direction of the living room. “And make sure the guys were behaving themselves.”
“Nothing I can’
t handle,” he assured her. Then, glancing down the hall, he asked, “Can I help you with dinner?” Anyone who knew him would laugh. His kitchen skills left a lot to be desired. But he wasn’t ready to return to the group.
Colby smiled as she pushed away from the wall. “I never turn away extra hands.”
Guilt, hurt, and fear roiled in Tyler’s gut during the trek to the kitchen, stronger than they had in a long time. Those memories of home wouldn’t shake. Fingers twitching for his guitar, he drained the rest of his beer and focused instead on the family photos lining the walls. It read like a visual timeline. Sherry as a baby. Her toothless school pictures. Costumed shots from dance recitals and drill team. Sticking her tongue out, flirting with the camera, and pretty much photo bombing the rest.
A grouping of each of the Robicheaux kids in their graduation gowns hung on the wall just outside the kitchen. The last one was of his wife. Her fingers were lifted in a rock-star salute, her other arm clasped around a woman clearly her mother. The familiar pang hit his chest again, and he rapped his knuckles against the frame.
Unsurprising for a family of chefs, the kitchen was huge. Dark oak cabinets, butcher-block island, and cast iron pots dangling from the ceiling. Over the sink, an aged sign read Get It While It’s Hot, and an explosion of magnets covered the refrigerator. Garlic and basil teased his nose, making his mouth water. That ache in his chest deepened.
“This reminds me of my parents’ kitchen.” Rubbing a fist over his shirt, he willed the emotions away. He didn’t know why they’d triggered, but he needed to pull himself together. Impressing Sherry’s family, making sure they believed their story, was imperative for their plan to work. Looking at the spotless kitchen, a far cry from how it’d look if he were the one preparing supper, Tyler asked, “What’s on the menu?”
“Lasagna.” Colby slid up onto the island and grabbed a glass of red wine. “It’s cooling on the stove, and the bread is in the oven. Emma helped me earlier, before the latest drama took her out back texting like a maniac. Only thing left is the salad.” He scratched the side of his jaw, wondering why she’d accepted his help, and she shrugged. “Our family can be a handful. I figured you could use the breather.”
At her understanding smile, the pressure in his chest lifted a fraction, and Tyler walked to the sink. “Well, as much as I appreciate that, I’m a man of my word.” He turned on the faucet and began washing his hands. “I’m making that salad.” Then he hesitated and looked over his shoulder. “I can’t screw that up too badly, right?”
“You’d be surprised,” she replied, but smiled to show she was teasing. “The stories I could tell of what people do to harmless vegetables would make your toes curl. Lucky for you, a professional is standing by.”
As Colby sipped her wine, she instructed Tyler on what to do. Soon he was too busy slicing, dicing, and spinning to think about home or anything else. While he built what was sure to be the best salad in the history of the world, Sherry’s sister filled the silence with stories of her recent wedding.
“Who knew little things could add up so quickly?” She shook her head and grinned. “Guess that’s one benefit of eloping. You miss the hoopla. Not to mention the huge dent in the bank account.” She slid him a look. “But something tells me that wouldn’t be such an issue for you. I do wish I could’ve seen my baby sister walk down the aisle, though.”
She glanced away, a tight smile on her lips, and Tyler felt like an ass. Why, he wasn’t quite sure, since the wedding wasn’t real…at least not in the sense she meant. But already he could see how close this family was. If his marriage to Sherry had been legit, no doubt the church would’ve overflowed with relatives on both sides.
Not for the first time, he wondered about the ceremony. What it had been like. Clearly, not sentimental and romantic like Colby’s, but definitely more entertaining. How could it not with a setup like theirs? And while he couldn’t remember the particulars, there was the DVD he’d found in the hotel room.
Everything had been so hectic since he arrived. Getting on the same page, the studio worked out…he hadn’t had a chance to tell Sherry it even existed. Now with things more settled, he was damn curious what it held. In light of their mutual hangovers, plenty of embarrassment. Sherry in that hideous veil, probably singing her vows off-key. Him stumbling and trying not to blow his cover. An Elvis impersonator officiating.
“Must’ve been some wedding.” Tyler looked up from the salad bowl to see Colby’s grin. “You’re smiling like a lovesick dope. I should know. I do it all the time.”
Unsure how to respond, he nodded slightly and returned to his work.
“Did Sherry tell you I was supposed to do the event that night?”
His head jerked up so fast he almost pinched a nerve.
She laughed. “Take that as a no.” Studying him closely, she took another sip of wine. “I’m normally the one who handles those types of things, but I’d just returned from our honeymoon. Sherry stepped in, willing to go, and for once, I handed over control. Funny how things work out sometimes, huh?”
Tyler set down the chef’s knife. “Yeah, funny.”
Only, it wasn’t. Imagining how different things would be had Sherry not been in that green room, laughter was the furthest thing from his mind.
…
“You killed it, ladies,” Cane declared, slapping a napkin on his scraped-clean plate. “You’re gonna have to step up the workouts, Jase, with them both living with you.” Emma beamed at her godfather’s praise, and he tugged her ponytail. “You sure you’re not ready for that job yet?”
Emma shook her head. “Still only twelve, Uncle Cane.”
This was nice. Being with her family, acting silly, letting Tyler see this side of her…it was great. So far, they’d even done a decent job playing their designated parts. Their dance in the rain to start the night certainly helped. But ever since they’d dried off and changed, there was a sense of unease Sherry couldn’t shake. Sure, part of it was guilt. She loathed hiding anything from her family, and lying to them felt even worse. But this was more than that. As she glanced around the table of bliss, she felt…wistful.
Colby and Jason were newlywed giddy. He anticipated her needs—more wine, or a second helping of salad. She rubbed the back of his neck as they spoke. They kept sharing little looks throughout dinner. And Cane and Angelle were just as bad. Whipped was a new look for her brother, and Sherry loved seeing it on him. In fact, she was so stinking happy for all of them. But that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt, sitting beside her in-name-only husband and pretending to be just as blissful as her siblings.
When would it be her turn to experience the real deal?
Would a man ever look at her with undisguised adoration, the way her brother and brother-in-law stared at the women they loved?
Sherry released a sigh, and Tyler placed his hand on her thigh under the table. Pressing a kiss against her hair, he quietly whispered, “Everything okay?”
No, not really.
What was worse was that her siblings were starting to notice. Normally, she ran the show. Cutting up, acting crazy to make them laugh, keeping the atmosphere light. But for some reason, she just wasn’t feeling it anymore. She gave him a small smile and nodded. “Just tired.”
That was the truth, if not all of it. She was exhausted…from keeping up their ruse. And they’d only just begun. Tyler stared into her eyes with a slight frown, clearly not buying her excuse, but when Angelle suggested a game of Taboo, he tore his gaze away.
“I think we have to pass.”
Angie looked disappointed, and her suspicious stare grew sharper. Sherry was their group’s perpetual night owl, teasing the others whenever they tried to duck out early. “Is everything all right?”
There was that question again, and suddenly, tears were building behind her eyes. Which, really, was just so ridiculous. Maybe she was premenstrual.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Sherry replied, making a production out of a yawn. “It’s just been
a long day. Finalizing the Humane event, recovering from the weekend in Vegas—”
“Enjoying married life at night,” Colby teased with a sly grin. Jason cleared his throat, trying to hide his smile as he motioned toward Emma at the end of the table.
Her sister winced, and he chuckled. “Smooth, baby. Real smooth.”
“Yep, you guessed it,” Sherry replied brightly, perhaps overly brightly, as twin surges of heat shot up her face. Lord, she wished that were her excuse. It was a lot more fun than the truth.
Tyler chuckled low and deep in his throat, and she squeezed her thighs together. His laugh was dark and seductive, and it tempted her to throw caution to the wind. To steal one night and take the edge off this craving. Watching her big, bad country boy get silly in the rain only heightened her desire…
But as amazing as a night would be, the fallout would hurt so much worse.
Raising her eyes, she found her so-called husband, her partner-in-crime, staring down with unmistakable mirrored want. She swallowed hard and pushed her chair back.
Definitely time to jet.
Everyone followed suit, standing and stopping at various points between the dining room and the front door. It was obvious they all planned to stick around and play the game, matched couples doing couple-y things. Well, other than Emma, but her niece was twelve. Sherry loved the girl to pieces, but she was ready to move away from the kid’s table.
One day…the plan is still on. Just delayed, is all.
Hugging her sister tight, Sherry said, “Dinner was fabulous as always, Coley. Reminded me of Mom’s.”
Colby took a breath, the compliment obviously pleasing her. When it came to Cajun fare, there was no mistaking their father’s culinary prowess, but their mom had kicked major pasta butt. “I clipped some of her rosemary for the sauce.”
Next up was Emma and Jason, a two-in-one squeeze. “Bring that husband of yours down to the gym some time,” he said, stepping back to shake Tyler’s hand. “We’ll even go easy on you your first visit.”
Angelle cut in with a laugh. “I make no promises.”
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