“Let’s go meet the folks.”
Cane kept Angelle distracted during the drive. He asked about her family, her childhood, her favorite subjects when she’d been in school, and the activities she’d liked. Unsurprisingly, horses topped the list. Riding, training, breeding, as long as it involved a horse, Angelle enjoyed it. What did shock him was learning she’d been a math and science nerd, too. Cane had her pegged as a quiet literature or maybe a history girl, but Angelle’s face lit up discussing biology and physics. Discovering they shared an interest in the way the universe worked was refreshing and unexpected. And completely frustrating.
Cane didn’t need another reason to feel connected to Angelle.
He liked her too damn much as it was.
More surprises came learning about her family’s large chicken population, and that her closest sibling had been ten years older. He caught the past tense and wanted to ask, but he bit his tongue. He’d vowed to keep things light—for now. So instead, he asked about her hometown. Angelle’s somber mood instantly lifted as she proceeded to give him an earful about Bon Terre. By the time he took the exit, Cane was sure he could lead the town tour.
Waiting at a stoplight off the busy interstate, Cane glanced around. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve driven past this exit, but I can honestly say I’ve never been here before.”
Angelle laughed softly. “Not many people have. We’re a small town, but we like it that way. Our annual festival and parade draws a decent crowd, enough to feed the local economy. But come Sunday evening, they head on out, and we’re left again in peace.”
Peace was an apt word. As he drove under the overpass, every lyric to every country song he’d ever heard came to life. Fields of crops, old dirt roads, and red pickup trucks. With the song “Mayberry” by Rascal Flatts playing in his head, Cane asked, “Anything else I should know in the next three minutes?”
She thought a moment. “Just be prepared to meet the welcome wagon. My family’s big to begin with, and I guarantee at least half the town’s population will be waiting on my doorstep. The prodigal child returning home is gossip enough, but they gotta be chomping at the bit to meet the city boy I tricked into marrying me.”
Angelle labeling herself a prodigal child was humorous, but what he laughed at was, “ City boy?” He shook his head. “Have any of these people even been to Magnolia Springs?”
“Doesn’t matter,” she said with a shrug. “Anyone who’s not from the country is considered city. Around these parts, that normally means Lafayette, but in comparison to home, even good old Magnolia Springs is city .”
Cane shook his head with a smile. He doubted it could be that much different from where he grew up. It appeared Bon Terre had more land and less traffic, but people were people. And with the last name Robicheaux, no one could say he wasn’t Cajun. He glanced over and noticed Angelle’s lips twitching with barely concealed amusement. “What?”
A full laugh broke free as she pointed to his Converse sneakers. He’d figured they would go over better than his motorcycle boots, but apparently, he’d guessed wrong. “You’re gonna catch so much crap for those.”
He rolled his eyes, returning the wave of a passing driver. It wasn’t as if he owned any cowboy boots. And to be honest, Cane didn’t care if the whole damn town had a problem with his footwear, especially when it made her laugh like that. “So everyone will be waiting to meet the city boy who sports messed-up kicks. What else?”
Angelle fidgeted with her fingers and turned in her seat to face him. “There’s a very good chance Brady will be leading the pack.”
Cane kept his face purposefully neutral. The truth was he hoped she was right. He’d like to meet the idiot who let her slip through his fingers. “How long were you two together?”
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Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley