Accidentally Married on Purpose (15 page)

“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.”

At Tyler’s look of confusion, Sherry explained, “Cane and Angelle both take Jason’s ninjitsu classes.”

“Great. So basically you’re saying your entire family is trained to kick my ass if I step out of line.”

Sherry tapped his chest with a smirk she didn’t quite feel. “And don’t you forget it.”

“Well, except for me,” Colby replied. “I leave the fighting to my man. I’d just slip something in your food.”

Everyone laughed at that, and Jason pulled Tyler into a conversation about his class with Cane and Angelle. Emma stood as close as she could to her new “uncle,” staring at him with the same wide-eyed adoration she once did Colby. Not that she’d ever stopped idolizing her stepmother, but the extreme fangirling had lessened over the last year. Evidently now finding an outlet in the caring, funny, hot-as-hell man wearing Sherry’s ring.

The need to leave became an itch under her skin.

“Hey, Ty, I’m falling asleep where I stand.”

The lighthearted smile he turned to her nearly buckled her knees. He was enjoying himself. Hanging out with her family, being cute with Emma. Cooking with Colby and joking with Jason. This day was seriously messing with her head. For heaven’s sakes, the man left her a semi-love note on her mirror and freaking cuddled her puppy! Was the universe out to get her?

Tyler’s eyebrows drew together and he reached for her hand. “Gentlemen, it’s time I got my bride home.”

Angelle and Colby visibly swooned as he tucked her under his arm and kissed her head, playing the part exactly as she’d asked him to. So then why were tears of frustration lumped in her throat? Clearly, she needed a nap.

Linking their fingers together, she tugged him gently toward the door. Beyond the wood lay cool, clean air and quiet. Hopefully both would knock some sense into her. The knob was turned, salvation a few feet away, when Angelle said, “Oh, wait, one more thing.”

Closing her eyes, Sherry exhaled and turned around.

Angie handed her a grocery bag filled with their wet clothes and a covered plate to take to their bodyguard, Tony.
Oh, right.
“So, Cane has a bunch of guys from the gym coming over Saturday to extend the back deck.” She winced slightly, and dread pricked Sherry’s neck. She already knew where this was going. “Normally, I’d be all for the company, and I’m definitely grateful for the help…but they’re coming at
five
in the morning. With saws. And hammers. On my day off.”

“Won’t the neighbors be mad?” Tyler asked, clearly missing the bigger picture.

Sherry shook her head. “This house is in the middle of three acres.” His eyes widened and she explained, “It was dark when we arrived, but the closest neighbors won’t hear a thing. And the bayou runs out back.”

“Bayou, huh?” He looked at Cane with an eager smile. “Good fishing?”

“The best,” her brother confirmed. The dang dimple that made her friends gaga flashed in his cheek as he said, “If you want, we can take the boat out next week.”

“Definitely,” Tyler replied, at the same time Jason said, “I want in.”

“Anyway.”
Sherry widened her eyes, really wishing the ability to read your spouse’s mind came with the exchange of vows. “As you were saying, Angie.”

“Right, well, I know y’all are in the middle of honeymoon bliss, but do you mind if I stay in my room Friday night?” Rocking on her cowboy boots, she added with a hopeful grin, “I promise to keep ear buds in the whole time.”

And that’s when Tyler finally got it.

His dark head swiveled toward her, and Sherry would’ve laughed aloud, except no one else would’ve gotten the joke. She and Tyler would have to spend the entire night in her bedroom. At dinner, she came
this
close to attacking the man. Her hormones were running amok, tossing that stupid list of rules seriously sounded appealing, and in two days, they’d be sharing a bed. Lying side-by-side and breathing the same air.

Tyler’s mouth curved in a slow grin, thoughts obviously aligned with hers, only not seeming that upset at all…

“Do you mind?” Angelle asked. Thanks to Sherry’s reaction, her friend probably assumed she’d be interrupting wild monkey sex. Fabulous.

Swallowing hard, she broke away from Tyler’s wicked gaze and said, “Not at all.”

Lie number one thousand and ten.

Chapter Eleven

“You know what they say about a watched clock,” Tyler said, leaning his back against the couch. Sherry transferred her anxious gaze to his and raised an eyebrow. “It never moves.”

“Isn’t that a watched pot never boils?”

“Close enough.” He grinned and moved the guitar off his lap, holding out his hand. “Come over here and sit with me.” After only a slight hesitation, she slipped her fingers in his, and he tugged her onto the floor beside him. The tension in her body kept her spine locked tight, and he reached over and kneaded the muscles of her shoulder, coaxing her to relax. “It’ll be fine. I promise not to bite”—he glanced at her from the corner of his eye—“unless you ask me to.”

She rolled her eyes in a
that’s never gonna happen
way, but her shoulder began to loosen under his ministrations. Truth was, Tyler was anxious about sharing her bed tonight, too. Just not for the same reason.

Their plan was working. Every gossip site in the industry was speculating over Tyler and Sherry’s whirlwind romance, leaking pictures of that incredible kiss in her driveway. Arianne was like a cat that ate the cream, constantly sending him links with various messages, all renditions of,
I told you so.
The world was already in love with his sass-mouthed caterer, calling Sherry a “down-home sweetheart,” and after the photos of their kiss, the latest polls speculated how long it would take until she’d be in the “family way.”

Fat chance of that happening, rules or not. But the nonstop talk only fed his memories of Vegas. And three nights of sliding past each other in the hall, and three days of sitting shoulder-to-shoulder on the sofa, ratcheted their sexual tension to the point of insanity. He was on two-a-day cold showers as it was; an entire night of breathing her sweet-scented skin, hearing her soft sighs near his ear might very well kill him.

Lying in the dark stripped away pretense. Cut through the bullshit to what was real. But after only a week together,
real
was becoming a fluid concept. When Sherry took sex off the table, he’d hated it. He’d respected her decision but didn’t think it was necessary. Now, he did. Keeping the line straight was crucial while they found balance.

It was another one of her rules, though, that he questioned—no romance in the house.

Was making out romantic?

Sherry moaned as Tyler pressed his thumb into a knot near the curve of her neck. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear she was messing with him.

“Hey, Ty?” she asked a little later, her muscles practically putty in his hands. “I need you to promise me something.”

Considering the last time she said that, he’d agreed to enforced celibacy, he was hesitant. But unsure how it could possibly get any worse, he replied, “Anything, sweet thing.”

Sherry shifted her head to look at him. Fear and vulnerability pooled in her eyes. “If I throw myself at you tonight, or even suggest we push the boundaries of our relationship…” His fingers stopped moving. “I need you to turn me down.”

Aw, hell, was she serious? Did she think he was a candidate for sainthood?

But what could he say? No? As much as he wanted another taste—a kiss, a few more touches—what Tyler wanted more was for Sherry to want him, too. No regrets, no second-guesses. They had three more weeks together in this cozy house. He couldn’t afford to screw up now. “Rest assured, I’ll be a good boy.” He lifted two fingers in the air. “Scout’s honor.”

The last knot in her shoulders unkinked, and Sherry laughed. “You know, the heroes in my romance novels always say that. Scout’s honor. But they all later admit to never being a Boy Scout.”

“Not so with me,” he told her, purposefully steering the conversation toward a less
heated
topic. “Ages six through twelve. If you ever need a fire built, a knot tied, or a compass read, I’m your man.”

Rolling onto her hip, she gave him an impressed smile. “Never would’ve guessed it. I, on the other hand, while a Girl Scout, belonged to more of a Troop Beverly Hills deal. We camped in hotel rooms and learned about Mary Kay.” She laughed and wiggled her painted nails. “I may not know how to sew worth a damn, but I can give you one heck of a manicure.”

“Equally important life skills,” he replied with a grin, glad to see her anxiety gone. At least for now. Hoping to keep it that way until Angelle arrived, he pulled his guitar onto his lap and removed a pick from between the strings at the neck. “Know what’s another important skill? Learning to strum a guitar—”

“Kinda playing fast and loose with
important
there, aren’t ya?”

Winking at her, he held out the pick. “If I recall correctly, you already agreed to a lesson.” He plucked a few strings to illustrate his point, then nudged her with the headstock of the instrument. “What else are we gonna do to pass the time?”

Her eyes locked with his and she nodded. “Good point.” Sighing dramatically, she said, “Fine, fine. Just remember when your ears start bleeding that this was
your
idea.” She lifted to her knees and stared uncertainly at the guitar. “How should we do this?”

There were plenty of ways…but just now, only one sounded remotely appealing. “Sit in front of me.”

She eyed him suspiciously as he kicked out his legs, then smirked as she crawled into position. “Sure, the way all good instructors set up.”

“Exactly.” He grinned, savoring the feel of her in his arms. Her back to his chest. Her hair brushing against his chin. Her floral perfume hit his nose, and he inhaled deep.

“Tyler…”

Her voice was a warning tease. Leaning forward, he whispered against her ear, “Rule number five, sugar. Enjoy the moment.”