Tangled Up In You (Fleur de Lis Book 1)

by A. L. Vincent

Noah watched Emily’s face crumple.

  He reacted. Not one to hit a man while he was down, Noah grabbed Eddie by the collar and hoisted him to his feet. When Eddie was standing, he looked him in the eye. With one hand, he held Eddie’s collar. His other hand clenched into a fist. Resisting the urge to punch, he reared back his hand and backhanded Eddie across the face.

  “That’s for Emily,” he said as Eddie fell to the ground.

  Noah looked at Emily, who stood there speechless. Carly, Daniel, and Douglas were standing there with her. Noah could see her lip quiver.

  “Noah, help me out with this. Let’s get him back in the car,” Joey said.

  “I’m not touching him again,” Noah said. “Let the bastard lie there.”

  “Wait!” Emily said. Noah looked at her. Her chest was heaving and her face was dotted with red spaghetti sauce.

  ***

  Emily

  Emily walked over and looked down at Eddie. Her hands shook, her head pounded like a drum.

  “How could you do this to me? I worked two jobs for you! Two!” she shouted. Noah, Joey, Ryder, and Douglas took steps closer to her, protecting her. Carly raised her glass in silent salute, smiling.

  “Get ’em girl,” she mouthed.

  “I gave up everything for you. Everything. My dream for my own restaurant someday went to drown your sorrows. It was your own damn fault you lost your job. And now you can’t find another one. You know what, Eddie? It’s. Not. My. Problem.”

  She ran an angry hand through her hair. “For better or worse, my ass! There was no better these last two years. I’m sick of you. I took care of you. Who took care of me? This is how you repay me? I’m so done with you. I will not give up anything else for you.”

  She twisted the ring off her finger so roughly that it scraped the soft skin. She palmed the symbol of their commitment. The golden ring that had once meant love and respect now felt like a chain. An albatross, a weight holding her down. Not anymore.

  “You see this?” she asked Eddie. He still said nothing.

  She threw the ring down on his stomach just as she had the papers when she left. The ring bounced onto the gravel, the tin sound rang through the quiet parking lot. “I’m done with that. I’m done with you. I’m done. You make me sick.” She gave him one last scathing glance, turned, and walked away.

  ***

  Noah

  Noah watched as Jeremy picked up Eddie. Carly held the car door open. Eddie was already passing out.

  “Bye now,” Carly said, nodding at Justice and Jeremy after she slammed the car door. Justice sneered at Carly. Carly took a step forward, only to have Douglas put a hand on her arm.

  “It’s not worth it,” Douglas said. “Trust me.”

  Carly cut her eyes at Douglas, but bit her lip and looked up at the sky as if praying for patience.

  The car drove off, and Carly walked up to Noah. “You going after Emily?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Good,” she said.

  Noah took off at a run.

  ***

  Emily

  Emily walked down the beach, away from Eddie, away from the disgusting things he said, away from the image of her sauce, red and ruined on the ground. She still shook with fury. Throwing the ring at him had not been enough. She wished she could’ve ground the ring into the ground and sprinkled him with the dust, like ashes. Heart pounding and chest heaving, she stared out at the water. She turned when she heard footsteps approaching. She turned and faced the water again when she saw it was Noah.

  “Emily?” His voice was soft. “He’s gone.”

  She turned then. “How could he do this, Noah?”

  “I don’t know.”

  She said, “I’m entering that contest in New Orleans, and I’m getting the hell on with my life. I will figure out a way to open my own catering company. This is my time.”

  “It’s about damn time,” he said finally.

  She reached up, put her hands on each side of his face, and planted a kiss firmly on his lips. She grinned as his eyes widened in shock. “Let’s go get a drink. I think I want to celebrate.”

  “Hold on just one second,” he said.

  “What?”

  He smiled at her, then took his fingers and rubbed something off her face. Emily looked to see the remnants of the spaghetti sauce on his fingers.

  “Oh my God! I had sauce all over my face? I probably looked like a raging lunatic!”

  Noah stopped and kissed her on the lips. “You looked beautiful, Emily. Absolutely beautiful.”

  ***

  Noah

  They were walking arm in arm when they returned to the parking lot. Noah frowned as he saw a Pointe Shade patrol car pull into the parking lot.

  “What now?” Noah asked.

  They went to stand beside Douglas, who nodded.

  “Are we having a little problem here?” Officer Mouton asked, walking up. His eyes scanned the crowd.

  “No problems here, Officer,” Noah said.

  “Heard there was a little altercation here earlier,” Mouton said, his thumbs tucked in the belt buckle.

  “As you can see, there’s absolutely nothing going on but a spaghetti cook-off,” Noah said.

  “Well, I’d like to speak to the owner. And your sister as well.”

  “Actually, I own just as much of this bar as Carly does, and I say there’s not a problem. And I think you’re out of your jurisdiction. Am I right?”

  “Well, you know. Just doing my civic duty.”

  “Sure you are.”

  “If you’re sure,” Mouton said. “I’ll be leaving, then. Tell Carly that I’ll be seeing her.” He tipped his officer’s hat and walked away.

  “What was that all about?” Douglas asked as the cop drove away.

  “Long story. But I don’t think it’s going to have a happy ending.”

  “May be time for some changes in La Fleur Parish,” Douglas said. “I am considering a change in employment.”

  “You, my friend,” Noah said, “would be the perfect man to take on that job.”

  Douglas threw an arm around Noah’s shoulder. “We’ll see. For now, I think we could all use a drink.”

  ***

  Emily

  “You okay?” Carly asked Emily.

  “Actually, I’m better than I’ve been in a long time,” she responded.

  “Sounds like something that deserves a toast,” Carly said. “Mimosa?”

  “Would love one.”

  Emily looked over to where her table had been. The table was upright. Wet rocks replaced the red mess the sauce made. The burner had been put back together and she could see a pot bubbling on it.

  Emily looked at Carly. “What’s up with that?”

  “Everyone got together and whipped up another sauce for you. Joey, Red, Walter, and Jay all contributed something. Everybody but me, of course. I’m sure you didn’t want any of my sauce. You can tweak it however you like and we’ll consider it your entry and cooked by you.”

  Emily’s eyes misted up. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “You don’t have to say anything. We weren’t going to let that drunken fool ruin your day,” Daniel said as he walked up to Emily. Emily had forgotten he was also one of the judges. Glinda was with him.

  Emily grinned. “Thank you, guys, so much. But there goes my plan of celebrating and drinking. Now I have to concentrate on this sauce.”

  “Honey,” Carly said, laughing and pouring another mimosa, “I’ll make sure you do both! Here’s to you, Emily, here’s to you.”

  Emily had doctored the sauce the best she could. It actually wasn’t half bad. It wasn’t her sauce, but it would work. She set up some serving bowls as Carly had instructed and readied the spaghetti for the judges. Daniel winked as he went to the judges’ table. He wouldn’t know which one was hers, but it felt good to have his support.

  Jay, who had passed out on a table an hour ago, had roused long enough to cook the pasta and get his entry together
. Red, Walter, and Joey were also getting their entries ready. Soon, Carly was scooping up the small bowls and bringing them to the judging area. Emily followed Noah into the bar to wait to hear the results. Jay and Walter were busy taunting each other.

  Carly took the microphone from the DJ hired for the rest of the afternoon. “If I could have your attention, please. Before I announce the winners, I’d like to take a moment to thank everyone for coming out. Thank you for coming out to support a good cause and to honor the memory of a great man.”

  Carly held out a picture frame. “This is the last picture we all took together. A summer many years ago. More than I care to admit,” she said, and laughter filled the bar.

  “I’m going to put this picture up here in the bar, to remind us that nothing is more important than our friends and family. And to always remember the good times.”

  Carly’s smile faltered for a moment. “And speaking of good times. Let’s announce the winners of the first annual Benjamin Devereaux Memorial Cook-Off. In third place, it’s Jay Thibodeaux.”

  “In second, it’s Walter Boudreaux.” The crowd cheered.

  “And in first place, it’s Joey Delchamp.”

  “How did Jay beat me?” Red asked. “He slept the last hour!”

  Jay laughed. “I’m just good like dat.”

  Noah hugged Emily to him. “Upset that you didn’t win?”

  “Nah,” she said. “I think I won more today than a cook-off.”

  Holding his beer out, they toasted. “I think you did, my dear. I think you did.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Emily curled up on the chair on the porch, staring out at the rain. The rain had chilled the air, and she was glad for the warmth of Grams’ quilt. Oscar curled up on the edges that pooled around the chair. She could smell the gumbo simmering on the stove.

  It was Sunday, and the beach and the bar were quiet. It was comforting after the excitement of the cook-off the day before. The only sound was the rhythm of the rain falling on the metal roof. The water in the gulf was rough and gray.

  She looked over at Noah’s houseboat. He had celebrated with her, then walked her home. He had held her a moment longer than usual, kissed her good night, and disappeared into the darkness. It had been a rough day for both.

  She watched as he took off for another run. Even from this distance, she could see how rough he looked. His face was shaggy with beard and he looked like he’d lost weight.

  She shivered as the wind blew. Noah would be cold. She thought of the gumbo she had on the stove, he could probably use a bowl.

  Mind made up, she gathered up Oscar and the blanket and went into the house. She filled a covered bowl full of the warm gumbo and put it, a bag of rice, and a loaf of crusty French bread in a bag. She patted Oscar on the head and went over to Noah’s. The rain had stopped and so she decided to sit in one of the rocking chairs and wait.

  Emily stood up as Noah approached the boat. He was shirtless, water dripped from his hair and down his shirtless chest. Emily inhaled a breath. He was breathtakingly sexy. His chest still heaved from exertion. Her eyes traveled from his chest to his face. His face was drawn and haggard. He had dark smudges under his eyes from lack of sleep.

  “Hey,” she said.

  “Hey,” he replied. “Come on in.” He nodded at the door.

  “Hungry?” she asked, lifting up the bag.

  His eyes darkened as he looked into her eyes. “Starving.”

  Her stomach fluttered. What had she gotten herself into?

  Emily tore her eyes from his and carried the bag of food into the kitchen, grateful for the distraction. She put the gumbo in another pot and started the rice cooker. When she was satisfied that everything was cooking, she walked to the sliding glass doors. Noah was in his room, door shut, probably showering.

  She watched as the rain started up again and danced on the water, little droplets splattering and bouncing on the rolling water. The boat itself was rocking more than usual, a comforting motion that made Emily sleepy. Her own lack of sleep lately probably contributed to that.

  The bedroom door opened and Emily heard Noah pad across the boat, saw his reflection in the glass as he walked up to her. He stopped behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist; he rested his chin on the top of her head. He tugged on her waist.

  “Come see,” he said, leading her to the sofa. He grabbed a blanket and patted the empty spot. She snuggled in next to him. His arm wrapped around her firmly, her head rested on his shoulder.

  He was quiet, and Emily sensed he was not in the mood for mindless chatter or small talk. So, unsure of what to say, she remained quiet as well. She listened to the rain beat on the roof, and to the steady sound of Noah’s breathing. Before long, she realized he’d fallen asleep.

  She slowly extricated herself from his arms to go turn off the gumbo and set the rice pot to warm. When she came back to the living room, he was sleeping soundly. Afraid she would wake him up if she rejoined him on the sofa, and knowing she would if she opened the door, she curled up on the small chair beside the sofa. She wrapped a small blanket around her and put a small pillow behind her. Maybe a nap wouldn’t be so bad after all.

  ***

  Emily awoke to an unfamiliar noise. She sat up and rubbed her eyes. She listened for the sound again. It was a grunt, or a moan. It was the sound of distress, and it was coming from Noah. Even in the darkness, she could see the sheen of sweat that had broken out along his body. She approached the bed slowly, unsure of what to do.

  He tossed again and the same sound came out. His breathing was short and labored. She kept a safe distance, but reached out.

  “Noah,” she said softly, lightly touching his shoulder. He jumped and grabbed Emily’s hand. Emily tried to jerk away, but his grip was firm. His eyes were slightly unfocused, as if still caught up in whatever nightmare he’d been having. He looked down at his hand to see Emily’s hand in his.

  “Emily?”

  “Yeah, I think you were having a nightmare.”

  His eyes were dark; he let out a sigh and released her hand. “Sorry about that.”

  “It’s okay. Must’ve been a bad one.”

  He gave a shaky smile. “I guess you could say that.”

  She had never seen this side of him, this vulnerable, quiet side. It made him that much more endearing to her. She sat down on the empty space by his side. “You have them often?”

  “Often enough.”

  “That sucks.”

  “Yes, it does.”

  “You still hungry?” Emily asked.

  “Yes, I am.”

  “I’ll get that gumbo ready,” she said.

  Emily busied herself warming the gumbo and making two bowls. It was still raining outside, so eating on the deck was not an option. She carried the bowls into the living room, and Noah patted the spot next to him.

  “Have a seat,” he said as she handed him a bowl. He took the bowl and set it on the coffee table. “I’m going to make us a couple of drinks.”

  “Sounds good,” she said.

  He sat two drinks down and joined her on the sofa.

  “Grams always said that gumbo was good for the soul,” Emily said.

  “She was right,” Noah said, giving her a half-smile. He dipped his French bread in the gumbo and took a bite.

  “Damn, Emily. You can cook.”

  She smiled; it was always the ultimate compliment. When she looked up from her own bowl, she noticed a small brown gumbo spot by his lip. She reached up to wipe it off, and he grabbed her hand as she touched his face. His hand covered hers as he held it in place. He pulled her fingers over to his lips and began kissing each fingertip.

  Emily’s stomach contracted as she stared into his eyes.

  He reached for their bowls and placed each one on the coffee table. He stood up, still holding her hand in his. He tugged gently and led her to his bedroom. They stopped in front of his bed. Noah reached down and tipped Emily’s chin up with his fingers. Slowly,
he leaned his head down and pressed his lips to hers. It was a soft kiss at first. He moved his lips gently and persuasively over hers. His hands dropped down from her face to reach around and pull her closely to him. Her breasts pushed up against his chest. One hand traveled up her back and tangled in her hair.

  Emily gasped as his hand cupped her breast. She could feel the warmth of his hand through her shirt and bra. Noah reached down and pulled her shirt up and over her head. His mouth trailed kisses from her ear to her neck and back up as his hands continued to caress her breasts.

  He reached around and unclasped her bra, then threw it on the floor next to her shirt. He hugged her close to him. Emily sucked in a breath as bare skin contacted bare skin.

  His hands moved over her breasts again and Emily’s head fell back. Noah used that opportunity to spread wet kisses along her collarbone.

  Noah leaned down and undid the zipper to her jeans. He slowly slid the jeans and her panties down to the floor.

  “You are so beautiful,” he said as he looked at her. Emily smiled as he reached out and pulled her to him again.

  His kiss was rough this time. His hands cupped her face; his body pressed close to hers. He stopped only to rid himself of his own jeans before he pulled her down on the bed with him.

  “You are amazing, Emily Thibodeaux,” Noah said to her later. He gathered her close to him, spooning her.

  “I didn’t do much,” Emily protested.

  “It’s just you, Emily. It’s what you do to me,” Noah said.

  He threaded his fingers with hers and raised her hands to his lips. “It’s what you do for me. You are my God given solace.”

  Emily smiled, then started to reply. Noah put his finger to her lips. “Just enjoy, Emily. Just enjoy.”

  And with that, he kissed her senseless again.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Emily placed Grams’ worn cookbook on the top of the clothes in the suitcase and carefully zipped it up. She didn’t need it. She had memorized the recipe and practiced it many times. But bringing the cookbook was like having Grams with her.