Chapter Two
Maybe he should have called first, Cade thought belatedly, reaching the bottom step of the wide porch where Angel stood, arms wrapped around herself.
She looked spooked, and he didn’t catch the name that left her lips as she’d spun around. Luther? Lucas?
Maybe coming at all was a bad idea. He took a step backward, not wanting to add to whatever had rattled her.
The color returned to her face. “Sneaking up on people wasn’t on the list of attributes your friend recited in the bar yesterday.”
He resisted the urge to ask who, Shelby being the furthest thing from his mind when he woke up this morning, but shrugged and rolled with it. “She also forgot to mention that I’m afraid of spiders, hate pepperoni on my pizza, and have never seen Star Wars.”
“You may be dead to me.”
“It’s the Star Wars thing, isn’t it?”
She shook her head. “I happen to love spiders.”
He shuddered without even having to try and fake it and turned around. “I don’t even think we can talk after this.”
She laughed, dropping down onto the next step.
No, he definitely hadn’t imagined how much he’d enjoyed the sound of her laugh yesterday. It hit him square in the chest all over again and brought a smile to his own face, reminding him why he’d shown up here when the sun was barely cresting the horizon.
“Well, before you run for the hills, at least tell me what you’re doing here at the crack of dawn. Gran will ask the moment I walk back inside.” She added the last part in a low voice, tipping her head to indicate the curtain falling back into place at one of the cottage’s front windows.
“Breakfast.”
She pursed her lips doubtfully.
“It may be the only meal I can cook, but I’m damn good at it. I would have called but I don’t have your number.”
“Scottie wouldn’t give it to you, huh?”
“That woman is mean,” he confided in an exaggerated tone.
Angel grinned, and he knew he hadn’t imagined what that had done to him yesterday either. “So what’s your specialty? Breakfast specialty,” she tacked on before he could take the conversation in a different direction with that kind of opening.
He would have enjoyed that, but there would be time for that later. “Why do I sense some skepticism in your voice? I’m happy to prove my culinary prowess.” He gestured to the path into the woods on the left side of the cottage.
She drew her sweater a little tighter. “You should know I was banned from watching horror movies at a young age. My brother hated it when I threw popcorn at the screen and the tits-for-brains women stupid enough to go into the attic, basement, or woods as the case may be.”
“Then you have nothing to worry about with me since the boyfriend always gets killed first, giving the girl plenty of time to get away.”
She laughed, glancing down at her feet before turning those captivating eyes back in his direction. “Boyfriend, huh? That’s a little premature don’t you think?”
“Premature sounds a lot better than a snowball’s chance in hell.”
“Now that I can scratch Salesman off the list since you suck at selling me on a trip through the woods, what are you really doing here?”
Had he ever enjoyed a conversation this early in the morning? Probably not.
He reached the bottom step. “I meant it about breakfast. If it makes you feel any better, my house is only a short walk around the lake.”
Her brows scrunched together as she glanced past him, her expression troubled as her gaze lingered on the water.
“You’re not imagining me disposing of bodies in the lake, are you? Cause you don’t want to see how big the spiders are on the trees down there. Wait, you probably do.”
Whatever she’d been worrying about eased as her smile reached her eyes. God, she was pretty. He’d noticed it yesterday, but even when she’d just woken up, she looked incredible.
“So…breakfast.” He took one step up, bringing them closer.
Her attention drifted to his mouth, but this time she didn’t jerk her gaze away when she realized it. “Hmmm?”
“We were talking about breakfast,” he provided.
“I thought we were talking about why I shouldn’t go into the woods with you.” She dropped down another step.
He set his foot on the next one, not in a hurry to move now that they were eye to eye. Her eyes, he noticed weren’t just blue, but a curious mix of blue and green.
Angel glanced around. “Do I smell—”
“Smoke!” He darted around Angel, moving to where fine wisps of smoke drifted out the top of the screen door.
Angel’s footsteps hurried after him. “Gran?”
The smoke was a little thicker inside the cottage, and he followed the cloud back to the kitchen.
“Watch the drop cloth,” Angel called from behind him, the warning giving him just enough time to dodge the bunched drop cloth and paint cans on the floor just inside the door.
“I think you should do your thing, Angel,” Mrs. C called out, then whirled and spotted him. “Cade?”
The curtains on the window had caught fire, but whatever had been on the stove was now in the sink, black plumes of smoke from the somewhat contained fire rising in the air. He spotted the fire extinguisher on the other side of the room, but Mrs. C turned and he noticed part of her apron had started to smoke.
He snatched a dish towel off the table and in a few strides he was behind the older woman, patting at the small flames Mrs. C had finally noticed.
“Oh my.” She managed to stay still even though he’d been prepared to hold her in place until the flames were out.
White foam hit the curtains, stopping the fire from devouring anything besides the strawberry-covered fabric that had been hanging in those windows for as long as he could remember.
He glanced at Angel who held the fire extinguisher. Did Mrs. C have two of them? The one he’d spotted on the other side of the room was no longer there, but he would have seen Angel grab it.
She hadn’t moved past him, had she?
Mrs. C coughed, and he stood, scooping the older woman into his arms and carrying her out to the porch. He set her down on the porch swing, then ducked back inside long enough to get her a glass of water.
Angel must have opened the back door before following him onto the porch. The smoke was already clearing.
Mrs. C took the glass of water when he rejoined them on the porch. “I never liked those curtains anyway,” she quipped, coughing again before taking a tentative sip of the water.
“How far away is the hospital?” Angel asked.
“Thirty minutes or so.”
Mrs. C waved at them. “I’m fine.”
“Those are eighty-five-year-old lungs, Gran. We should get them checked.”
“Nonsense. It’s my own fault for being nosy when I should have been paying attention in the kitchen.” She surveyed Cade. “You’re late.”
Cade paused, wondering what the old woman was up to.
“You invited him over?” Angel asked, sitting next to her grandmother on the rickety swing. She didn’t appear convinced.
“Figured you would have been here fifteen minutes ago,” Mrs. C continued without answering Angel directly. “Always were up with the roosters.” She leaned past him to where the driveway curled through the trees. “Ah, you walked.” She dusted off her hands. “I best see if the smoke has cleared.”
He and Angel both stepped into her path before she could rise, but he was the first to voice any objection. “How about I cook breakfast? You should get a bit more fresh air so Angel doesn’t worry about those eighty-five-year-old lungs.”
“Thanks,” Angel mouthed when Mrs. C gave her a stern look at the reminder of the earlier comment.
“Plus your granddaughter thinks I can’t cook and showed up just to lure her into the woods.”
“She throws popcorn at those girls,” she said so earnestly he knew she hadn’t overheard that bit of their conversation.
Assuming that was the biggest protest he was going to have, he left Mrs. C with Angel and stepped back into the house. The smell of smoke lingered in the air, but the mess in the kitchen had been contained to the scorched pan in the sink and the ruined curtains hanging in a soggy mess. He got rid of those first, then dealt with the pan and the grease on the stove. He’d always been impressed that Mrs. C continued to live on her own without much support, but he wondered if those days might be drawing to a close.
Then again, his mother had her share of close calls in the kitchen and she wasn’t anywhere close to eighty-five. Maybe Angel was in town to make sure her grandmother was still doing okay on her own, and if that was the case, why hadn’t he seen her around Sapphire Falls before?
Mrs. C traveled to the east coast to visit family a few times a year, but he’d always found it strange only her daughter came to Sapphire Falls.
By the time the kitchen was good to go, his stomach was growling and he took a second to look at the half-painted wall opposite the table. He couldn’t tell yet what it would be, but the beginning of the dark landscape reminded him of a body of water at night, the beginning of a huge, harvest moon hovering just above the inky surface.
The silhouette of a girl could fit perfectly in the lower corner where there should be an outcropping of rocks jutting from the shoreline.
He shook his head, his imagination running away with him in a way it hadn’t in years.
“What?”
He turned and spotted Angel in the doorway.
“You’re smiling,” she clarified.
She walked into the room, surveying the would-be mural with the critical eye of an artist unsure of her own creation. At least he assumed it wasn’t Mrs. C with the knack for painting. He would have heard about that long ago.
He opened his mouth to ask if she could see herself adding a silhouette to the painting, but he’d probably already sounded crazy enough without sharing the moment that his pain-induced brain had fabricated the girl in the woods.
Instead, he went to the fridge. His leg protested the way he pivoted, and he massaged the sore spot he’d irritated by diving over the bar yesterday. “I’m thinking breakfast on the porch would be a good idea. It’s a bit chilly—”
“—but doable,” she finished for him. She went to the cupboard for more dishes, adding them the ones that had already been set on the table.
“So who did you think it was?”
Her brows scrunched together in that adorable way again. “In the library with the candlestick?”
He laughed. “I haven’t played Clue since I was a kid. Seriously though, who did you think it was sneaking up on you this morning? A boyfriend you weren’t expecting?” he teased.
“Ex…and if he did show up, someone already showed me the best hiding place in Sapphire Falls,” she teased.
So no boyfriend then. Good. He didn’t steal women away from other guys. But he had a feeling he might have made an exception where Angel was concerned.
Angel carried the rest of the dishes out to the porch, returning for the other odds and ends a few moments later, shooting him a shy smile every time she realized he didn’t look at anything else whenever she was in the room.
Christ, he hadn’t been here long and already his cheeks hurt from smiling so much. A damn good problem to have he mused as he carried a few covered dishes to the porch, miraculously without dropping anything.
It had already warmed up a few degrees, taking some the crispness out of the air, guaranteeing that it was going to be warmer than usual today for so late in October. With the Fall Festival already underway, milder temperatures would draw more people, not that his town ever had any issues with lack of turn out.
This festival wouldn’t be finished for a few days and he had no doubt plans were already underway for Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Years. Not having to give up those celebrations had been one of the few perks when life snatched away his dream and forced him to stay in Sapphire Falls.
He waited for Angel and Mrs. C to help themselves. Once satisfied they didn’t need anything else, he joined them, piling his plate with food. His stomach rumbled so loud, Angel laughed at him.
“So how long are you in town?” he asked after they all dove into the meal and chewed in thoughtful silence for a couple minutes.
Angel finished the last of her poached eggs with a content smile, and he found himself grinning down at his plate again. His mother deserved one hell of a thank you today for insisting he learn how to cook at least one meal well.
“Planning how many times you need to make breakfast before I’ll go into the woods with you?”
“Clearly I need a new master plan.”
Mrs. C snorted and took a sip of the coffee she’d made before the fire broke out. The brew was a lot stronger than he usually drank, but he managed to finish it. Angel made a face once or twice when she was sure her grandmother wasn’t looking, but kept drinking, too.
“So,” Mrs. C began, piling her dishes in the center of the table. “What time are you picking her up?”
Well, okay then. “Six?”
Angel’s brows drew together. “Gran?”
“And you’re headed to Travis’s place?” Mrs. C continued. She collected his and Angel’s plates, adding them to hers.
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“And you’re working tomorrow morning?”
He nodded, not surprised she knew he was involved in the festival preparations. “I’m helping to set up for the zombie paintball fight, and finishing up the maze today.” Which had prompted him to seek Angel out before heading to the other Bennett brother’s farm to help Travis and the others finish stacking hay bales.
“So home by…” the older woman trailed off.
Angel raised her voice a little. “Gran?”
“Eleven,” he suggested.
“Midnight will be fine.” Mrs. C’s eyes twinkled. “You’ll need a few hours of rest before Hailey and the other organizers put you to work.”
“You both can see that I’m sitting right here, right?”
He hadn’t forgotten for a second. He’d caught himself staring more than a couple times while they ate, preoccupied with the few freckles on her nose and the way her smile kept making his heart thump a little faster in his chest.
She finally noticed this was another of those moments and held his gaze just long enough to get him fired up all over again.
She broke away first. “Gran?”
“Yes?” Mrs. C fiddled with a small chip on the handle of her coffee mug.
“I’m here to—”
“Relax, catch your breath, have fun… I can keep going.”
“Gran,” Angel pressed in a voice that Cade has used himself when his own family was interfering a little too much. “I really shouldn’t—”
“Have you spoken to your father yet?”
“That’s low,” Angel murmured, but he could hear the smile in her voice. She sighed and turned to him. “Six is fine. No shortcuts through the woods.”
“So scratch the big, bad wolf costume. Got it.” Cade rose to pick up the dishes.
Mrs. C slapped his hand. “I think I can handle washing a few dishes without catching anything on fire.”
He let her carry a few then rose to follow with the rest of them.
Halfway across the porch, Mrs. C stopped in the doorway. “Oh and Cade? Spend the money for the good condoms. They’re more reliable.” She winked and preceded him through the door, leaving the two of them speechless on the porch.
* * *
“Condoms?” Scottie asked for the hundredth time. “Seriously?”
“Uh-huh.” Angel’s stomach bunched nervously, and she turned away from the view of the driveway, facing the lake instead. The water glittered beneath the rays of sun spearing through the trees as it dropped in the sky.
“And what was Cade’s response to that?”
“Before or after he asked which brand she personally recommended?”
Scottie’s eyebrows rose, her voice scandalized. “He did not.”
“No, but you should see the look on your face.” Angel laughed, facing the driveway once more.
Looking at the lake left her nearly as unsettled as waiting for Cade to arrive, but for a different reason entirely.
“Bitch,” Scottie growled good-naturedly. She’d popped by when she’d finished some last minute decorations in town and decided to switch times she was scheduled to man one of the food booths so she could join Angel and Cade.
Having a third party keep Angel from spending too much time alone with Cade was probably a good thing, but Scottie remained vague whenever she pressed for the source of her determination to play chaperon this evening.
Aside from insisting she and Cade had never dated or had anything more than a long friendship between them, Scottie wasn’t talking.
It wasn’t the first time Scottie had gotten tight-lipped about one of the Marshalls, Angel discovered when Gran explained earlier it was that Ethan Marshall who walked into the Come Again yesterday. Scottie said even less about him than she did his brother, Cade.
“Where’s the rest of your costume?”
Angel gestured to the black dress Scottie had picked up for her that fell just past her knees and clung to her curves a little too tightly. The plunging neckline showed off everything but her nipples it seemed, so Angel had added a black scarf that made the pink tips of her hair stand out even more. “I think I’m good.”
Scottie scanned the porch, then rose to grab the bag she’d left on the swing. She withdrew the little bag and pointed hat, tossing them both at her. “You can’t go to the festival and not dress up.”
Resigned to her fate, she straightened the tip and set it on her head. “You don’t think it’s a bit much?”
“If the hat fits…” Scottie grinned, tugging out the pair of pompoms that had also been in her bag.
“Maybe I should be the cheerleader and you be the witch—”
The sound of gravel kicking up made them both turn their heads as Cade drove up, parking his truck in front of the cottage. He raised a hand in greeting, and the coals that had been simmering low in Angel’s belly flared to life.
She heard her grandmother step out on the porch, but her gaze remained riveted on the man who climbed from the truck. Everything from his dusty boots and dark jeans to the T-shirt the same shade of green as his eyes and the smile that left her a little lightheaded, fanned the out of control coals.
“Yeah, maybe you should have been the cheerleader,” Scottie murmured, her tone succeeding in tearing Angel’s attention from Cade.
Her friend frowned. Okay, something was definitely going on, but before she could insist Scottie fess up, Cade stopped opposite her.
His gaze swept from top to bottom, climbing back up with a scorching intensity that set fire to one cell after another until her body hovered on the edge of bursting into flames. She considered herself pretty enough on a good day but didn’t turn heads the way Scottie or her sister Bree.
At least not until now.
“Never mind,” Scottie whispered. “I don’t think it would have mattered what you wore.” She clapped her hands together, her pompoms shaking as she passed him and headed for the truck. “Shotgun.”
Cade saluted Angel’s grandmother, then waited for Angel to finish stuffing her phone in the bag she roped around her wrist. With her family already worried about Lewis stalking her, she didn’t want them tracking her down because she hadn’t answered their calls or texts.
“So where’s your costume?”
Cade poked around in the back of the truck and then slipped a cowboy hat on and grinned devilishly. “What do you think?”
That she was so screwed.
She would have banged her head on the side of the truck to remind herself she wasn’t in Sapphire Falls to get involved with anyone, if she could have stopped looking at him in that hat long enough.
“She turns into a pumpkin at midnight, so we should get going,” Scottie called out.
Cade opened the rear door and offered a hand. His fingers tightened over hers as she took the help and slid into the backseat, the sizzle from so simple a touch making her grateful Scottie had the front. She needed a moment to reel herself back in.
She fiddled with the sweater she’d brought for when the temperature dropped later, listening to the two talk. More than once, she felt him watching her in the rearview mirror, and he used every opportunity to draw her into the conversation, right up until the moment Scottie brought up the time Angel threw up at the movies from eating too much chocolate.
“Hey!”
Scottie laughed, not the least bit sorry for mentioning one of Angel’s less than stellar moments. It had been mortifying at the time, but Angel laughed along with the entire retelling, only mildly embarrassed years later.
“If it makes you feel better, I threw up at the Thanksgiving table once,” Cade said.
“You’re making that up.”
“And risk making myself less appealing?” He winked and turned down the road they told her led to Travis Bennett’s farm.
Scottie had introduced her to Travis yesterday at the Come Again. He’d stopped by after hearing the rumor already spreading about Ethan Marshall’s little brother hiding behind the bar. Travis’s wife Lauren had been equally amused, and although she and Angel hadn’t chatted for long, she’d liked Lauren instantly.
The farm came into view and Cade found a place to park. Angel smiled at all the people in costume as Scottie called out greetings and waved to some of them.
Angel didn’t have any complaints about her childhood, but she’d always been a little envious of Scottie’s stories of growing up in a small town, especially when it came to events like this.
“Everyone really gets into it, don’t they? I’ve always loved that about this place.”
Cade held the door open, waited for her to climb down. “When have you been here before?”
This time she grabbed the side of the truck instead of his hand, needing to get over an attraction that already felt like it was spinning out of control. “A few times. We stuck pretty close to the cottage.”
“How long ago was your last visit?”
Scottie looped her arm through Angel’s and led her up the road in the direction everyone else was headed before she could respond. “Anyone else hungry? I’ll bet we won’t have to look too hard for Cade’s mom’s famous pumpkin pie. She’s got to have a booth set up around here somewhere.”
Cade shrugged, grabbed his hat and jogged to catch up with them.
For the next hour they introduced Angel to what felt like half the town. Just a quick hello and exchange of names with some, and longer conversations and laughter with others. Although she was frequently the center of attention throughout most of the introductions, no one looked at her as hard or as long as Cade. Whether he was chatting with friends of his family’s or with the guys he went to school with, his gaze never left her for long, burning longer and hotter each time he found her again.
“There!” Scottie called over her shoulder with a wide grin, gesturing to the right as she sped up.
Angel couldn’t see what she was pointing at, but laughed at her friend’s enthusiasm, losing sight of Scottie in the groups milling around the front of Travis’s house. She’d only seen their host once tonight and he’d been dressed as the Mad Hatter and looking for his Queen of Hearts.
“Having a good time?”
The low rumble close to her ear sent Angel’s heart into a mad dash for the finish line. She just wished she knew where that was exactly.
She turned her head to nod, and barely managed to stop in enough time to avoid a collision with a runaway five-year-old dressed as a football player, a thick smear of black beneath each of her eyes. The little girl mumbled and apology and took off.
Angel adjusted her hat. “Apparently I don’t even need a green face or a wart on my nose to scare kids.”
“I think she’s on the run from the Lost Boys.” He pointed to the four boys in costume scanning the crowd. “Those are Tucker Bennett’s kids.”
“Bet they’re a handful.”
“Speaking of…” Cade’s hand brushed against hers, triggering a shiver of friction that rippled all the way to her shoulder as his finger’s curled around hers. “Too soon?” A hesitant smile touched his lips, like maybe he wasn’t nearly as sure of himself as he pretended to be.
“No. It’s fine. It’s good.” Way better than good.
She pressed her lips together before she started to babble or worse. Being near him left her as unpredictable as a teenage girl at a boy band concert torn between screams and tears of adoration.
She nearly laughed at herself. God, she needed a drink.
“What’s so funny?”
“I don’t do boy bands,” was all the explanation she offered.
“That’s a shame. I love cranking One Direction and singing along when I’m cruising in the truck.”
There was no containing the laughter this time. People turned to look at them, but she didn’t care who stared. Cade’s fingers tightened around hers, and he drew her a little closer as they walked in the direction where Scottie waved and held something in her hand.
A bunch of people milled around three tables set up and loaded with slices of pie. Now she knew why Scottie had warned her not to eat too much food when Gran cooked earlier, thankfully without incident this time.
Gran had insisted the fire that morning had been a fluke, but what would have happened if she and Cade hadn’t been there?
“Try this one.” Scottie thrust a plate at her redirecting her thoughts and pretending not to notice she and Cade were holding hands. “It will melt in your mouth.”
The squeeze of Cade’s fingers before he released her was a promise he wasn’t nearly done touching her tonight, and she stuffed a bite of pie in her mouth to hide her grin. She wasn’t fast enough judging by Scottie’s arched brow.
Her friend shook a pompom at her, smiling knowingly but not saying anything else about staying away from Cade. That didn’t mean they still wouldn’t be having a conversation about it later.
Flavor exploded across Angel’s tongue, and she groaned in pleasure, resisting the urge to lick her fork clean before taking her next bite.
“Not hungry?” Scottie said to Cade.
“I’m good.” He barely glanced at Scottie when he answered. “Waiting to see how long until Angel gets whipped cream on her face.”
A problem he would be happy to help remedy if the opportunity presented itself, she realized, her stomach buzzing all over again.
“I’ll catch up with you guys later,” Scottie murmured, and walked away faster than usual, and Scottie never moved slowly to begin with.
What was that about?
Angel watched her go, then followed Cade’s gaze to where Ethan stood a few feet away. He took a drink of his beer, and nodded at them before moving in the opposite direction of Scottie.
“Know the story?” she asked, finishing off the pie like she’d never eaten before. It really did melt in her mouth, the rich pumpkin and spice flavor lingering after she swallowed the last bite.
“You probably know more than I do. Ethan just got back into town.”
Angel heard something that might have been frustration in Cade’s voice. “And that’s not a good thing? Sorry. That’s not really any of my business.”
“It’s just complicated. For everyone.” His resigned expression faded, replaced by something happier and a little bit mischievous as he disposed of her empty plate, laced their fingers and led her away from the best pie she’d had in her life.
“Where are we going?”
“Haunted hayride through the woods.”
She arched a brow. “The new master plan?”
“Depends. Is it working?”
“The jury is still out.”
He sighed. “And I didn’t even get to make a closing statement.”
Their conversation bordered on cheesy and she loved every second of it. Loved talking to him period.
Further ahead of them, a horse-drawn wagon rolled away with half a dozen people sitting on bales of hay. Just as they reached the pick-up spot, another wagon came along, and they joined the handful of people in front of them, climbing up last and settling in the far corner of the wagon.
With the sun barely a sliver of reddish-gold on the horizon, the driver, who Cade exchanged a few words with while Angel got settled, took them down a path that twisted into the trees.
They fell into a silence that shouldn’t have felt so comfortable when they barely knew each other as Angel admired the scenery for a few minutes. Her hands itched to capture the sunset and the fall colors that surrounded them, the burnt orange shades and the deep golds interspersed with dashes of red and the earthy green of trees that held their foliage all season.
“Ghosts,” Cade whispered, motioning above them.
Wisps of white material flapped in the soft breeze. In the daylight they would have looked like bedsheets that had blown off someone’s clothesline, but in the meager light cast by the odd lantern hanging in the branches and the deepening shadows of evening, they appeared almost menacing.
The eerie music drifting from a speaker hidden somewhere in the wagon probably wasn’t helping.
The wagon hit a bump, and Cade grabbed her as the momentum knocked him off the edge of his hay bale. She reached for the side of the wagon to steady them both and missed—landing directly in his lap.