Accidentally Married on Purpose (13 page)

Sherry mussed her niece’s hair. “A girl after my own heart.”

Cane shifted his weight closer to the case. “What kind you play?”

Based on the question and Emma’s announcement, Tyler figured Cane must be a musician, too. Which meant Tyler’s answer could be a make-it-or-break-it thing. “Takamine.”

Three pairs of feminine eyes swung toward Cane, and when the man gave a small nod, they exhaled in unison.

Tyler’s was a bit subtler.

“Nice.” Cane’s ramrod posture relaxed a fraction, and he propped his shoulder against the wall. “That’s what I play.”

Not much to go on. Grasping at straws, really. But hey, it was something. Sherry wrapped her arms around Tyler’s waist, an action so natural it didn’t feel like an act. In a way, it wasn’t. Their relationship wasn’t real, but the need to impress the people in the room was. Tyler slid his arm around his
wife’s
shoulder and kissed the crown of her head.

“You two are so cute,” Emma declared, taking a seat on the armrest of the sofa. “Angelle told us it was love at first sight and that you swept Aunt Sherry off her feet.” She heaved a dramatic sigh. “That’s so romantic.”

“Also pretty reckless,” Cane muttered, earning another slap from his fiancée. “Hey, I’m one to talk, I know. I asked you to marry me after a week.” He tugged her into the circle of his arms and turned back to his baby sister, anxiety clear on his face. “But we at least knew each other for months, and neither of us is famous. I just have to wonder if either of you know what the hell it is you’re doing.”

Not a damn clue.

One thing he
did
know: the Robicheauxs didn’t hold back. They told it like it was, and Tyler liked it. But he could also see why Sherry didn’t want to admit the truth.

“I’m not saying life with me is easy,” he admitted, squeezing Sherry close to his side. “When your sister married me, she inherited a lot of hassle. Paparazzi, journalists, gossip, long hours, and a husband who travels more often than not. But she also married a man who doesn’t give up. Who respects and appreciates her, and who would do anything within his power to keep her from getting hurt.”

Sherry lifted her head from his chest, and Tyler brushed aside a strand of purple hair. “Our relationship isn’t conventional, and it sure as hell didn’t start off like most. But we both know what we want and aren’t afraid to go for it.”

At that, Sherry winced slightly, her arched eyebrows drawing together. It hadn’t been a knock on her business plan; he’d meant her confident nature in general. She was a go-getter, even if she didn’t realize it yet. Somehow, he’d find a way for her to see it too, and help make her dream come true. All she needed was a little push.

“Well then, I think it’s time we left the newlyweds alone.”

Tyler looked away from her mesmerizing eyes and returned Angelle’s smile. They said their good-byes, earning a smile from Sherry when Cane shook his hand, and Emma waltzed outside humming one of his tunes. Cane followed behind her, shaking his head. Just outside the door, Angelle paused with her hand on the jamb.

“Colby and Jason are sorry they couldn’t come and say hello. They’re both on shift tonight, and we’re watching Emma. But I have a great idea. What do you say we have a big ole Welcome-to-the-family dinner tomorrow, yeah?”

Chapter Nine

The world makes all kinds of rules for love…

Sherry bolted awake, heart in her throat. “What the what?”

Hand to chest, she glared at her clock, happily singing away about crazy people in love. Perfect. Not only had she been yanked away from a hot dream (and just when it got to the good part), but country music was now blaring in her room. Like a dope, she’d set her alarm to the local channel before falling asleep in an effort to get to know Tyler better…and this was what she got. Love songs.
Perky
love songs about people who shouldn’t follow a list of rules. Sticking out her tongue, she clicked off the rude thing and collapsed against her pillows.

That was better.

Staring at the popcorn pattern on her ceiling, she admitted the alarm clock wasn’t the
only
thing that had her teed off. Her subconscious was on her hit list, too. She’d purposefully escaped to her bedroom last night, needing a breather from, well, everything. From the hunk of a man now living with her, and from convincing her family they were in love. From the awkward, charged silence that had fallen after Cane and crew left, and remembering Tyler’s kiss out by her car. Along with those fuzzy images from their night in Vegas.

Only problem was, the instant she closed her eyes, those memories overtook her.

Normally Sherry had the good sense to dream about mystery men. Famous celebrities she could crush on from afar without bumping into them in the bathroom. But her brilliant self just had to go and marry one of those celebrities, which promised to make brushing her teeth a much more interesting experience.

With a sigh, she threw off her blankets. Time to get ready for work. After slipping on a bra and padding to the bedroom door, she quietly turned the knob, pausing to listen for any telltale noises. The house was utterly silent. Sticking her head out, she dared a glance both ways, but not a shadow moved. There wasn’t a single peep.

Could Tyler still be sleeping?

Generally, Sherry was the last one up in any group. Morning person she was
not.
But it was possible her rock star husband was an even bigger slouch than she was. Slipping down the hall on tiptoe, she stopped before the bathroom and then leapt inside, wanting to get a handle on the bedhead. And the hideous dragon breath.

Yeah, Tyler had already seen her at her worst—did it sink much lower than waking up nude, hungover, and bedraggled?—but she’d rather erase that glorious impression from his memory bank, not add to it. Safely tucked inside, she released a grateful sigh and shuffled to the sink. As water sputtered and filled the basin, Sherry lifted her bleary eyes to the mirror.

Where a yellow sticky note was stuck at eye-level.

Hey gorgeous,
The label rented studio space downtown, so that’s where I’ll be all day.
Call my cell if you need
anything
.
Tyler
P.S. Elvis is sweet, but I prefer sleeping with you.
She left the water running. Heading down the hall again, this time in the opposite direction, she didn’t stop until she reached Angelle’s bedroom. With a palm placed against the partially cracked door, she peered inside…and there was Elvis. Sleeping curled in a fluffy white ball on a dented pillow.
Tyler’s
pillow. That no doubt smelled of sandalwood. A groan slipped out of her throat.

The bad boy of country had cuddled her baby all night. The sweetness of that made Sherry’s chest constrict. Damn it, this wasn’t playing fair. She set her head against the doorjamb and stood there, watching Elvis sleep. His tail twitching mid–puppy dream and his tiny legs kicking the air. Tyler’s cologne lingered in the air and Sherry closed her eyes, fresh images from their night in Vegas sweeping over her. Sense memories tingled to life.

The weight of his arms holding
her.

The slip and tug of his fingers knotting in her hair.

The warm pant of breath on her already heated skin.

Releasing a jagged breath, Sherry opened her eyes and focused on Elvis.

Lucky bastard.

…

Walking inside Sherry’s house was like entering a war zone. The same basket of clothes was shoved in the corner, fresh Coke cans were on the coffee table, and now, piles of paper littered the floor. Tyler waved at the bodyguard he’d had posted outside (and the cause of their first martial spat via text that morning. She’d said it wasn’t necessary; he’d vehemently disagreed, and in the end, well, Tony was still there), then closed the door behind him. Maneuvering as best he could, his inner neat freak twitching to organize the chaos, he called out, “I’m home.”

Home.
Now there was an interesting concept. Several dwellings contained Tyler’s stuff. A big one in Nashville that collected dust. A tour bus he’d spent half his life on the last few years. The house he grew up in a few hours up the road that held his childhood books. That one probably came closest to an actual
home
, but it wasn’t his. It didn’t tell the story of who he was today, or what he wanted as a man. It told where he came from. And illness permeated the air.

But this place was different. Bigger than a tour bus, smaller than the one he owned in Nashville, Sherry’s house had a warmth and energy that wrapped around you the moment you opened the door. Even with the cluttered mess. The belongings weren’t his—his stuff didn’t arrive for another hour—yet somehow Tyler felt more at home here than he had in years. Giving it up in a month was going to suck.

“I’m in here,” Sherry called back, and Tyler followed the sound to the kitchen. She lifted tired-looking eyes from her laptop, surrounded by even more papers crowding the counter. “Hey. What time is it?”

“Just after five.” He’d spent almost the entire day at the studio, meeting the crew, getting the lay of the land, prepping things so that when Charlie and the band arrived they’d be good to go. Melodies and lyrics were already churning for the new songs, and Tyler was eager to get to work. Grabbing a barstool, he sat down with his guitar on his lap and waved a hand over the paperwork. “What’s all this?”

She rolled her head in a slow circle. “Robicheaux’s is having an event next week.” Yawning, she rubbed the back of her neck and then said, “I’m finalizing a few of the details.”

Distracted by the strain of soft cotton as she raised her arms, stretching her chest, Tyler was slow to comprehend her response. But forcing his gaze away, he looked over the paperwork and said, “A few details? It looks like a small tree gave its life here.”

She mumbled something incoherent, continuing to work sore muscles, and he snatched the nearest papers off the counter. To keep his mind busy and his hands off her soft skin. As he gathered the sheets into piles, he realized that despite outward appearances, she clearly had a semblance of organization—each one had a giant letter written in marker on top. A, E, F…

“It just bugs the crap out of you, doesn’t it?”

“Hmm?” Looking up, he found Sherry’s eyes bright with laughter.

“I swear, music man, you make me feel like a slob. You woke up at an ungodly hour. You made your freaking bed around Elvis. And your things are all unpacked. Heck, even your toothbrush was tucked away in the cabinet.” She set her elbow on the counter and leaned her chin into her hand with a
tsk
. “Dude, didn’t you get the memo? Musicians are supposed to be rowdy and break stuff. I think you might have to turn in your rock star card.”

“Funny.” Tyler tapped a pile against the counter with a smirk. “What can I say? My mama raised me this way. No one came behind me to clean my messes. That was my job. Even if she tried, I wouldn’t let her. She had enough to deal with.”

The truth came out without thinking, and from the corner of his eye, he saw Sherry’s eyes sharpen. Tyler bit back a curse. Tonight was her family’s dinner; now wasn’t the time to share their sob stories—
if
they ever would. Adjusting his guitar on his lap, he fixed his attention on the papers.

The pile in his hand was marked with the letter A. The top sheet was a bulleted list, highlighting the needs of the St. Tammany Humane Society. Under that was a detailed spreadsheet of different breeds, along with math equations scribbled in the margin. Curious, he picked up another pile, this one with the letter E, and found names of local DJs, bands, and media contacts.

“Sherry, this seems pretty major.” After reading a press release listing her as the point of contact, he asked, “Wait, it’s
Wednesday
? As in, a week from today?”

She nodded, and he reared back in his seat. “Tell me about it. Good thing I work well under pressure, huh? It came together rather quick, but Tyler, it’s so worth it. You’ve gotta see this center. What it does for the animals in our parish. I volunteer as often as I can, and during my last visit, I overheard they were several big donations shy of their goal. I had to do
something
. I’m telling you, this place is phenomenal.”

Not a trace of exhaustion remained in her eyes by the end of her short speech, and her entire face lit with a smile. “And don’t even get me started on the animals. I’d adopt them all if I could afford it. There’s this sweet little Catahoula Leopard mix I’ve had my eye on…” She sat back with folded arms. “If that girl doesn’t find a home soon, she’s mine.”

As usual, her enthusiasm was completely adorable. This right here was Sherry’s passion, her
dream
, in action. And Tyler wanted in. “Tell me what I can do.”

“Really?” Her voice pitched high, and if it were possible for her smile to grow even wider, it did. He grinned in response. “Awesome, because I can really use the help. I may be a go-with-the-flow chica, but this is pushing it, even for me.”

Without stopping for a breath, she jumped into explaining the details, animatedly waving her hands. Tyler found himself leaning closer, unconsciously mimicking her gestures. His wife was a dynamo. Her excitement for these abandoned animals made him care, too. Now
he
wanted to adopt them all.

Simply being near her did something to him. Made him breathe easier, think differently, act better. Had him wanting to prove he could be the kind of man she deserved…if life were drastically different and a real relationship were feasible. A saying his dad taught him a long time ago came to mind.