Seven Day Fiance: A Love and Games Novel (Entangled Bliss) by Rachel Harris Page B

words as a welcome got. The renewed rigidity of Cane’s spine said he noticed. And he wasn’t the only one.
    After Troy, her parrain was up next, followed by her cousins and uncles, each man welcoming Cane and issuing similar statements of cool acceptance. It was unclear whether this was in solidarity to Brady or protecting their Little Red against the big bad city boy. But either way, she and Cane had an uphill climb ahead, and Angelle had no one to blame but herself. By always keeping to the background, following the path others laid out for her, she became the girl everyone looked out for, took care of, and protected. While she appreciated their love, she was now a grown woman. She could make her own choices.
    Eventually, all the men fell back. And only Daddy and Papa remained.
    Cane glanced at Angelle as the older men stood there, nodding stiffly. It was the first time she’d ever seen the Magnolia Springs playboy nervous. He had a right to be. Troy may prove difficult to win over, but her papere was the patriarch of the family. And the only true path to her family’s acceptance would have to come from her daddy.
    And honestly, Angie couldn’t tell what was going on in the man’s head.
    He and Brady’s dad were close—the mayor and the chief of police. They were old friends who’d expected to become in-laws. Then there were the unmistakable similarities between Cane and her sister’s ex. But Angelle wasn’t Amber. She wasn’t a teenage girl rebelling against her parents. She was an adult bringing home the man she loved—er, that she wanted her daddy to believe she loved.
    Now those dang horseflies were back, dancing the two-step in her belly. She may be a woman, but she was still a “good girl” at heart, and the thought of disappointing her father twisted her insides. Cane squeezed her side as if he could sense her anxiety, and her daddy’s eyes widened a fraction. Lifting his gaze from Cane’s large hand around Angelle’s waist, Daddy looked at Angelle and then at the amassed crowd. Music floated on the wind but the porch was silent, waiting. Cane’s grip tightened.
    The familiar mayoral smile slid into place as her daddy stepped forward and slapped Cane on the shoulder. “Hope you’re ready to eat, son.”
    Cane’s slightly forced grin returned. “Always, sir.”
    …
    Angelle’s childhood home reminded Cane of his own. Stained wood, family collages, and crucifixes. Potted plants lined the windowsill, colorful magnets decorated the refrigerator, and warm rugs covered the floor. She’d implied she came from money, but nothing about this house screamed wealth. It was simple, laidback, and well-kept. And it made Cane like the Prejean clan even more. He understood their lukewarm welcome. It made things slightly more difficult, but he admired her brothers in particular for their protectiveness. If Sherry brought home a stranger who looked like him, Cane would be cautious, too. Setting his bag down in what appeared to be Ryan’s former room, he scanned the trophies staggered on the bookshelf and released a breath. The show was on.
    After he got the old man’s shoulder slap, Angelle’s mom had led them back here. She’d kindly, but pointedly, explained that they’d be maintaining separate rooms while under her roof, then smiled and offered him a cold drink. Although the sleeping arrangements weren’t conducive to his plans, Cane couldn’t help but smile. The sweet and sassy woman reminded him of his own mother, and he missed her like crazy.
    A family picture on the nightstand snagged Cane’s attention. A mud-splattered Ryan sporting a UL Lafayette uniform and holding a football dominated the frame. His smile was wide and carefree—but that’s not what drew Cane’s eye. It was the scrawny redhead perched on his shoulders. Strolling over, Cane picked up the photo with a smile. Angelle couldn’t be more than five or six years old.
    On Ryan’s right stood a teenage Troy with his arms extended