Tangled Up In You (Fleur de Lis Book 1)

by A. L. Vincent

  “Yeah, there’s always work to do around here. A roof to repair or a dock to patch up. I don’t have much time off. And then there’s this place,” he said, motioning behind him to the houseboat. “I’ve been renovating it.”

  A shiny black pickup pulled up to the pier and Oscar let out a ruff, instantly getting up to run to meet the fisherman unloading a boat.

  “Sit,” Noah said in a soft, but firm voice.

  Oscar took another step and then turned around and stopped. Then he sat. Emily stared at Noah, mouth open.

  “How did you do that?”

  Noah reached down and gave Oscar a rub behind the ears. “Good boy.”

  “What are you? The freakin’ dog whisperer?”

  “Something I picked up in the service.”

  “Is that right?” Emily asked, but after a glance at his closed expression, she decided not to press for answers. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one who had a few off-limit subjects.

  “Need more coffee?” Noah asked.

  “Yeah, one more cup. Mind if I take it to go?” She handed him the mug, glad he was leaving her alone for a minute to collect her thoughts. She leaned back in the rocking chair and closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of the cool breeze on her face. This was nothing like the constant hustle and bustle of Lafayette. Someone always had to be somewhere. The sound of the water and the slow pace was soothing.

  She heard the door creak open and Noah was back. He handed her the warm mug. The air had just enough chill to create steam.

  “I need to get back to my place and start settling in. And get some groceries. I have nothing.” My place. Emily smiled at that thought, liking the sound of it.

  “Well, we’ll have to do this again.”

  Emily smiled tentatively. “Yes, we will.”

  She attached Oscar’s leash and headed off to the cabin, eager to get back to her sanctuary.

  What a difference a day made.

  Yesterday, she was driving through Lafayette traffic, cursing with road rage. She was trying to make a decision, wondering what to tell Eddie. Today, she was sitting on a porch, rocking, sipping coffee. Talking with an incredibly attractive man. He was no ogre. But he was no Prince Charming either. He was too rough around the edges to be charming. She was sure the prince never had calluses on his hands or tiny wrinkles feathering his eyes from squinting in the sun. But then again, life was no fairy tale.

  ***

  Noah

  Noah watched Emily walk away. He sipped coffee and absently patted Sadie’s head. He knew who she was the moment he saw her on the beach. She hadn’t changed much since that last summer. She had the look of someone that life had worn out. Her brown eyes were shadowed, exhausted. He knew that look. He saw it in the mirror every day.

  She was beautiful. That had not changed. He had noted the way her hair was still long, framing her face and the scar she had always been so self-conscious of. She needed a little bit of weight on her bones, but no doubt Glinda would take care of that. Emily Breaux was back. She was staying at Glinda’s. Noah knew that Grams and Pops’ house had been damaged in the last hurricane. He was the one who put the tarp up on the roof and the plywood on the windows. Having almost grown up in that house, he couldn’t stand to see it fall apart. Emily was quite the looker, he thought. She was very guarded though, very nervous. He felt a flutter in his stomach. He hadn’t dated in so long; he wasn’t sure how it was done anymore. And that wedding ring was a problem. After two tours in the Middle East, he’d been too busy putting his own life back together to commit to anything. He hadn’t been interested in dating. The few one-night stands he’d had only left him feeling empty.

  But this woman, with those fragile brown eyes and hesitant smile, stirred something in him. Something different. Something dangerous.

  Chapter Four

  Emily

  Walking into the old grocery store, Emily smiled. For the first time, she was buying groceries just for herself. Whatever she wanted, she could buy. Well, maybe not whatever, thinking of the small stash of cash. But she didn’t have to think of anyone else. Just Oscar, who was content with Kibbles and Bits and a few table scraps here and there.

  She grabbed an old red cart with a squeaky wheel and paused. She didn’t have any idea what to buy. She knew she wanted to cook a sauce piquant for dinner, so she’d need the ingredients for that. Coffee, definitely. Community Coffee, her favorite.

  She roamed up and down the aisles, picking up this and that. Considering, then putting some things down and placing others in the cart. She put her favorite peppermint tea in the cart, along with honey, coffee, and cream. She had thought about chicken and noodle soup, but decided to make homemade soon. A big loaf of wonderful smelling fresh French bread, her favorite cheeses, summer sausage, a big bag of Jelly Belly jellybeans, and a bottle of white wine completed the purchases.

  She was still smiling as the items rolled down the conveyor belt.

  “Emily Thibodeaux?” the older woman behind the register asked. It was Nellie. Nellie had worked at Prejean’s Grocery for as long as Emily could remember.

  “It’s me.”

  “It’s so good to see you. It’s been a while.”

  “Yes, it has. It feels good to be back.”

  “Well, stop back in and visit with us when you can,” Nellie said.

  “I sure will, Nellie.”

  Emily took the few bags from the cashier and cradled them like treasures. She was still smiling as she walked out the door and into the waning sunlight.

  ***

  Back home in the comfort of the small kitchen, Emily grabbed an onion from the red mesh bag and set it on the cutting board. The phone rang, and she jumped. The knife slid, and she cursed, almost slicing a finger. She looked at the caller ID, but already knew who it was.

  Eddie.

  Should she pick it up? And if she did, what would she say? What could she say? And what would he say? Did she want to deal with that?

  She decided to answer it. “Hello, Eddie.”

  “Where are you, Emily?” His voice slurred.

  “Don’t worry about it, Eddie.”

  “The electric is still off!” he raged. “It’s hot in here!”

  “I’m sure it is,” she replied.

  “You’re such a bitch!” he yelled. “Always thinking about yourself. What about me?”

  She hung up the phone and turned it off.

  “Yes, what about me, Eddie? What am I going to do about me?”

  She took the knife and sliced off the end of the onion. Oh, how Eddie had complained the last time she cooked. How long did it take to cook? Where’s the meat and rice? My mom never cooked like this.

  She sliced off the other end of the onion. She peeled off the papery outside layer and tossed it in the garbage. If only Eddie could be tossed away as easily. She wished that she didn’t feel as fragile as the skin she’d just discarded. She wanted to be strong.

  Her eyes burned as she cut the onion in half. She didn’t know if it was from the onion, or her stinging heart.

  She placed a hand over the pot to test the heat, noticing that it did not seem to be getting hot.

  “Ah, come on,” Emily said in frustration. The stove would not heat up. The onions were cut and waiting. But the stove was not cooperating. She checked the plug. It was plugged in. She tried again. Waited a few moments, then stuck a hand over the burner. Still no heat.

  She would have to call Glinda.

  Damn.

  Glinda would call Noah.

  Damn. Damn.

  Noah would be in her house.

  Damn. Damn. Damn.

  Did she really want to cook? She didn’t want Noah in her house. Not now. She didn’t want any man in her space. Maybe microwave something? Maybe make a plate of cheese and bread? She looked at all the onions she had just cut up. She would just have to deal with it. She would just have to deal with Noah. How bad could it be?

  She turned the cell phone back on.

  More miss
ed calls and texts from Eddie.

  She’d deal with that later. She still needed to change her number. The last thing she needed, besides Noah in her kitchen, was Eddie finding her. She had no intention of letting Eddie know where she was.

  She dialed Glinda’s number.

  “Glinda?”

  “Yes?”

  “Ever have any problems with the stove here?”

  “No? Something wrong?”

  “Um, no. I think I got it. Sorry to have bothered you.”

  “No problem. You sure you got it?”

  “Positive.”

  Damn. What was she going to do now?

  How many times had she had to fix a leaky faucet or creaky door at the house with Eddie? He’d never been able to fix anything. Opening beer bottles had been about the best he could do.

  She took a deep breath and grabbed the laptop, thankful for the free Wi-Fi and Google.

  After a quick search on the Internet, she found a troubleshooting checklist.

  “Check breaker,” she said aloud.

  Duh. It was an electric stove. She went to the bedroom where the breaker box was. She laughed. The stove had simply blown a breaker. She clicked it back into place and went back into the kitchen. She had fixed it. No Noah involved.

  In less than half an hour, there was a knock at the door. Emily jumped, surprised. Who would be stopping by?

  Noah stood on the porch, holding a small yellow toolbox. Emily opened the door.

  “Glinda called me. She said you were having a problem with your stove?”

  He came in, and instantly she felt his presence in the small space.

  No men allowed. Except Oscar. And a dog didn’t count.

  “I fixed it,” she said, smiling, still proud. “It was a breaker.”

  “A breaker, huh? Mind if I just check it out since I’m here?”

  Yes, she did, but to say so would be rude.

  “Go ahead.” She gestured toward the kitchen, still standing behind the door.

  When he entered the kitchen, she kept a safe distance, crossing to the living room while he pulled out the stove. This was one time she didn’t like the tiny size of this temporary home.

  He looked at all the connections, whistling a popular Cajun song while working. She watched as he frowned a couple of times, dark brow furrowing up. The muscles in his arms flexed under the short-sleeved white shirt. Emily took another protective step backward, bumping into the sofa.

  “Seems to be fine. Let me check that breaker.” He dusted his hands on his jeans and headed to the bedroom.

  Noah. Was. In. Her. Bedroom.

  After a quick examination of the breaker box, he was back in the kitchen.

  “Thank you for coming over,” she said.

  “It’s no prob. That’s what I’m here for. Whatcha cookin’?”

  “I’m making a sauce piquant.”

  “You know, I loved Grams’ sauce piquant.”

  His smile tempted her to ask him to stay. To enjoy his company while they ate. It could be like old times. She thought of looking over the table while they ate, hearing his laugh like she had so many times in Grams’ kitchen. Definitely tempting, but too scary to follow through.

  “I’ll save you a plate,” she offered. Then she remembered the coffee he had shared. “Or you could come back in about an hour. It will be ready.”

  Wait, did she just invite this man to dinner? Would he stay for dinner or just take a plate? Maybe he’d just take a plate and go.

  “I’d like that.” He looked as uncomfortable as she felt. He crossed his arms and uncrossed them, finally settling his hands behind him on the counter.

  “An hour, huh?” he asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ll stop back in then. Leave you to finish up. And I’ll get cleaned up.”

  “Sounds great.”

  He cocked his head, as if trying to figure out her thoughts. Good luck with that. The man was too perceptive. And still in the kitchen.

  Dinner with this man was not a good idea.

  But what would be the harm in it? She always cooked more than enough anyway. Might as well not let it go to waste.

  No. No. No.

  Dinner with Noah was not a good idea. Better to dine alone than deal with this complication. She would offer him a plate and send him home.

  “See you in an hour, Noah,” she said, opening the door.

  “See ya.”

  She leaned against the door. This was going to be a problem. He was a mess, and so was she. They had no business being anything other than friends. Maybe that’s all he wanted. But what if it wasn’t?

  Unsettled, she went back to the kitchen. She stirred the red sauce, gave it a little taste, added some more Cajun seasonings, and stirred some more. Maybe the motion would calm her down. When it didn’t, she went through the house, straightening throw pillows and blankets that were already perfect.

  An hour later, the food was ready, but Emily was not. She winced, hearing the knock on the door.

  This time, instead of a toolbox, he held a bottle of wine.

  “Thought I’d grab a bottle to go along with dinner. Since you took the time to cook,” he said.

  Wine, he brought wine. He was staying. Damn. Thinking quickly, she grabbed two plates. “How about, since it’s a nice night, we eat out on the porch.”

  “We can do that,” he said. “I like that better anyway. I start to feel closed in sometimes in the house.”

  He was looking at the floor as if he didn’t want to look her in the eye.

  She put silverware on top of the plates she grabbed and handed him one. She didn’t know what to say, but she knew how to feed someone. Grams had taught her that.

  He shook his head when she started to wait for him to make a plate. “You first,” he said. “And I’ll bring the wine out. I brought an opener too. Didn’t know if you had one or not.”

  “I don’t know if I have one or not. I haven’t completely rifled through all the drawers yet.”

  They filled their plates and seated themselves at the small metal table at the end of the deck. Noah quickly uncorked the wine and poured two glasses.

  “This is very good,” Noah said after taking a bite of the spicy tomato sauce.

  “Thank you,” Emily said. Eddie had never been one to compliment her food.

  Emily sipped the wine, enjoying the warm liquid. The night had just a touch of chill to it. She looked at the fire pit. One night soon she would gather some wood and build a fire.

  Noah noticed her stare. “One of the drawbacks to living on a houseboat is no fires. And I love a good fire.”

  “Yeah, a fire on the boat might not be the best idea,” Emily said.

  Finished with the meal, Emily stood up to collect empty plates.

  “Have a seat. I’ll get these,” he said, grabbing the plates.

  Emily’s eyes widened.

  “Okay.” She definitely was not used to this. She sat back down and sipped some more wine.

  “So this long story you were talking about earlier, does it involve a man?” Noah asked after he returned and sat back down.

  “Ahhh, it must. It figures,” he said when she didn’t answer immediately.

  “Why do you say that?” she asked.

  “People usually don’t just pack up and run away from home for no reason. Usually, it’s a bad relationship. Or a warrant. You a wanted woman?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Oh yeah. That’s it. I’m so wanted.”

  He chuckled. “Well, obviously you can cook. What are some of your favorites?”

  “I make an awesome gumbo. I’m always trying new recipes. But I haven’t had much time for that lately. I’ve been working a lot.”

  Emily had never been much of a drinker, and during the busy last few months, if she had time to do anything, she slept. She could feel the wine loosening up tense muscles and easing her nervousness.

  “Busy woman,” Noah said.

  “I guess.”

 
; “Why were you working so much?”

  “I wanted to save money to take business and cooking classes at the local technical school. I wanted to be able to open my own restaurant someday.”

  “So what was the problem?” he asked.

  “Another long story,” she replied, unwilling to discuss Eddie or the lack of money issue.

  “Ahhh. Okay. I see,” he said, even though it didn’t sound like it. He didn’t press though, and for that, she was grateful. She did not need to be opening up and getting close to this man, who had disaster written all over him. Actually, she probably had it written more on herself than he did, but that was beside the point.

  Noah copied Emily’s relaxed pose, stretching his legs out and leaning back in the chair. It was the first time she had seen him relax. Now he looked more like the old Noah.

  She sipped the last of the wine, covering her mouth as a yawn escaped. Noah’s eyes may have been closed, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t paying attention.

  “Tired?” he asked.

  “Sorry. Been a long couple of days,” she apologized.

  “No problem. I can understand that,” he said, getting up to leave. She stood as well.

  “Thanks again for dinner,” he said. “It was very good.”

  “You’re welcome. And thank you.”

  He stood there awkwardly for a moment, then gave her a one-armed hug. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  He started to walk away, then turned. “Want to go crabbing in the morning?” he asked.

  No, Emily thought. Say no.

  “Sure,” she said. Damn it. Maybe some sunshine and time with an old friend would be good for her.

  “Come to my place around sunup and we’ll head out.”

  “Okay.”

  She watched him walk to the boat.

  This was definitely going to be a problem.

  Chapter Five

  The sun was barely over the horizon when Emily crossed over to Noah’s houseboat. Oscar was straining at the leash, ready to go play with Sadie.

  Noah had left the gate unlatched; apparently out of bed already. She could see a light coming in through the galley window. She caught the smell of coffee in the air. Bless him.