At least a night.
Which means…
I stared at the massive bed tucked against the back wall, a hot thrill rushing through me at the knowledge that I’d share that bed with Cannon tonight. His body next to mine, only inches separating—
“Clothes are done. Anything else?” Cannon’s voice cut into my fantasy, grounding me in the present.
Right. So not the time.
“Thank you,” I said as he finished shoving my clothes into a pair of empty drawers in the dresser on the opposite side of the bed. “I’ll just go make the bed—”
“Done,” he said, and I sighed.
“Thank you.”
“You don’t have to keep saying that,” he said. “What else?”
“Well, if it isn’t too much trouble,” I said, wringing my hands. I heard a car screech to a stop outside. “If you could do that thing again.”
He cocked a brow at me, and my skin flushed.
“Where you pretend to love me? Like at the engagement party? I know it’ll take more effort on your part since she’ll be staying here, but I’m not sure how long and I just—”
“We’ll figure it out.” He reached out, grazing his knuckles ever so gently over my cheek. The sweet, innocent gesture sent a white-hot tremor down the center of me.
I leaned into that caress, biting down on my gratitude since he’d told me to stop.
A firm pounding on the door broke the tension buzzing between us, and I jolted out of his touch. He dropped his hand, a muscle in his jaw ticking as I brushed past him and out of his room.
“You would not believe the way Waze took me to get here!” Anne said by way of greeting, stomping past me and dropping her two large Louis Vuitton bags on the floor. “This is such a cute little town! And an even cuter little house!” She scanned the interior—taking in the clean lines, open floorplan, and simple yet comfortable furniture Cannon had outfitted the place with. Little was the last thing I’d call the house, but my sister had much more lavish tastes than I ever had.
“Please, come in,” I said, a bit sarcastically as she made herself at home. She found the kitchen and plopped on a barstool, reaching for the bowl of fruit I’d replenished this morning. Cannon loved a banana before his morning run.
She fiddled with an apple, crossing one leg over the other as she chomped into it.
I took a seat across from her, and Cannon elected to remain on the other side of the island as if he needed the distance.
“What happened?” I asked after she’d had a few more bites.
“Did you get these here?”
I nodded. “Sweet Water Farmer’s Market.”
“They’re so much better than the ones in Charleston.”
I raised my brows, not at all amused by the evasion. “What. Happened.”
She huffed and sat her half-eaten apple on the island, not even bothering to reach for the small fruit plates I had next to the bowl.
Patience. Kindness. Compassion.
“Mother and Father totally overreacted,” she said.
I waited, silent.
“They did,” she insisted. The black from her mascara had smudged underneath her eyes, whether from tears or staying out too late, I wasn’t sure. “I got kicked out of one itsy-bitsy club—”
“Which club?” I cringed when she didn’t answer right away. “Not the club?”
A slow nod. Then she rolled her eyes. “I was drunk, and I got into a fight with Brittany. She tried to say…well, it doesn’t matter what she said. She deserved a few slaps for it. Then she pulled my hair, and I don’t remember much after that. Except that Gerald threw me over his shoulder! Can you believe that? The nerve.” She sucked her teeth. “I should have Father fire him.”
Anger bubbled beneath my calm exterior as I counted my breaths. I couldn’t speak, not at the moment, because if I did, I would say—
“You get in a drunken fight so intense at your parents’ country club that your head of security has to haul you out, likely for your own safety and that of the other guests, and you threaten to have him fired?” Cannon’s voice was all hard edge, none of the softness from earlier. “Sounds to me like your parents kicked you to the curb for good reason.”
My lips parted, but Anne’s mouth dropped.
Yes, I’d been thinking the same exact thing, but she was my sister.
“Are you going to just sit there and let that inked-up creep speak to me like that?”
I raised my hands, palms up. “First things first, Anne,” I said, surprised at the amount of control I held over my tone. “Don’t ever speak about my husband like that. This is his home. And despite his lack of bedside manner, you will respect him while under his roof. If you can’t accept that, you know I’ll be happy to put you up at the Seasons.”
She gaped at me like she’d never seen me before. I spared Cannon a glance, his eyes fixated on me in much the same way.