Paradise Found: Cain (Paradise Stories Book 2) (17 page)

“I …” She swallowed hard then choked a little.

“That's what I thought.” I cursed internally. This wasn’t going how I expected. I didn’t want to fight her. I wanted to be with her.

“Knowing I was married or not, I haven’t been with another man once in the last year …” she exhaled, surprising me. She blinked with those baptismal blue eyes. The admission shocked her, but the sensation was all mine. Her words were a cold splash of reality, colder than the stream of Eden we swam in a year ago. I straightened in my astonishment, my arms crossing over my chest as a feeling of pride filled me. My lip twitched to suppress an inappropriate smile, but I couldn’t prevent the words.

“You haven’t slept with anyone in a year?” The smirk on my face teased. I couldn’t believe it. She’d only been with me. She’d been waiting for me. She’d been faithful to me. My insides roiled as the truth hit me. I had not.

“I hate you,” she said softly, her tone so broken, so distraught. She’d read my mind, knowing that I had not been true to her. I was a man; that wasn’t an excuse. I’d caved once or twice, even though I knew the truth. My assumption was she would never remain loyal to me. No woman had, and yet, I should have known better. This was Sofie. It was why I couldn’t let her go. Inappropriately, my jealousy flared.

“What about this Jacob?” I spit, all rational thought leaving me.

“Do you love Malinda?” she whispered harshly, ignoring my question. When I didn’t answer her, she turned away from me and picked up her case. Reaching for another bag, she tugged it over her shoulder before facing me again. I couldn’t explain what Malinda meant, or more importantly, how I felt about Sofie. I was too keyed up that she might have feelings for someone else when I wanted her to love only me.

“Answer me,” I demanded, standing like a centurion with my arms crossed and blocking her path of retreat.

“Answer me,” she countered.

“No, I don’t love Malinda.” Somehow my answer didn’t seem enough, as Sofie’s shoulders slumped.

“You’re an ass,” she said quietly, attempting to step around me. I stepped in time with her, preventing her from leaving. “And Jacob’s my uncle.” Stunned at her words, I stilled. She used the moment to slink around me for escape.

I was too angry to cry over Cain Callahan again. My hands gripped the steering wheel, blindly guiding me back to my home: The Vineyard Inn. In Napa Valley, my grandparents’ winery was both a sliver of paradise and a slice of hell. It reminded me of all I’d lost, and all I’d never have. It was also a place of comfort, as I had nowhere else to go.

My parents had died when I was thirteen. It was a brutal act that the police ruled random, but my great-grandfather never believed. In an alley outside a small casino in Vegas, my parents were cornered and killed. My mother had apparently stepped before my father in defense, and the bullet went through her into him. I imagined they fell together, her dying with him, while they both lay in their own blood in a cold, dark alley. They were found holding hands the following day, by a morning crew worker. Pronounced dead with a best estimate of after midnight, I became an orphan on that day. I have no siblings. I was swept from my home and moved to my grandparents’ vineyard, where my great grandfather still resided. His wife had been the first Sofie. I was her namesake.

My grandparents had been busy and in the prime of their retired life, owning the vineyard. They weren’t expecting to be parents again, and they did the best they could to raise me in the rather remote area of the valley. Feeling obliged for their generosity, I worked there from an early age, continually thankful for their home. I was left to my own devices to wander, discover, and explore, and that’s how I became the angel to my guardian: Papa. I couldn’t even estimate his age. He was just excessively old, and yet still youthful. He walked the vineyard daily, checking plants like children. He knew which vine needed more water, a mix of plant food, or filtered sun. I tagged after him, in hopes to learn everything, but knowing it would never be useful to me. I planned to be a doctor the day my parents died. I wanted to save lives.

It was only Thursday, but my classes finished in the morning during the summer session, and I was eager to leave Cain’s home. I’d had mixed feelings about remaining in the home without him. When I woke days ago to discover that he’d not only escaped the bed, but also left the house for Vegas, I was determined to leave. However, Kursch had strict orders that I was to remain for my protection. There still was no arrest for the break in of my apartment. I didn’t understand this continual demand for my safety. The attack on my apartment, while rather excessive, seemed random enough. I didn’t want to be afraid. But I stayed, nonetheless, at Kursch’s insistence. He had a room over the three-car garage, and I embarrassingly wondered if he’d heard Cain and I as we panted and petted in the garage the week prior.

In the days since, Kursch and I had developed a sort of friendship that reminded me very much of my uncle, Jacob Vincent. He’s name was shortened to accommodate his author personae. Kursch had the hard edge of a past but the softness of humor to keep demons at bay. We talked casually some evenings, sharing a dinner he made for me like he was my servant. I learned things about his time in the military, and I told him about growing up on the vineyard. We never discussed Cain’s childhood or the present state of our relationship. I didn’t feel right seeking answers from Kursch when I wanted them from Cain.

He didn’t lead on that he was aware of any connection between Cain and I. How could he? We were estranged from one another at present. Once again, I’d learned I was still married to Cain. I had shed my tears for him when he left me a year ago. Walking out of his room had broken my heart to mere shards of glass, those tiny pieces you can’t see with the eye, but you know still lay on the floor where a wineglass shattered. This time, I didn’t have the broken sensation; I was angry. I was a barrel of wine being rolled to the pallet for aging, only I wasn’t settled yet. I was still swirling with my fury.

He’d lied to me.

He’d slept with another.

He’d been unfaithful.

The words rang through my mind; a layer of disgust covered my body. On the morning after Cain left me the first time, I walked blindly into a shower, letting the scalding water wash away every trace of him on me. I had that need to scrub clean of his filth again. It was so wrong that he hadn’t told me the truth and informed me, right away, that we were legally married. The images that rolled through my mind of him with other women made me shiver. The most haunting part was that he had been unfaithful – to me. It wasn’t just that he’d slept with another woman, but that
as his wife
, it was a direct rejection of me. The serpent had not wanted the apple after all. He’d been tempted by the fruit of another and my insides sank at the realization. I had been a fool to think the likes of a man the caliber of Cain Callahan would want me.

In my opinion, I was plain, not in looks so much as in experience. I didn’t have a resume of wild sexual, wanderlust like he had. I’d been with a total of three men; Cain being the last, and no man tempted me the way he did. No man made me want to give into every touch like him. No man made me crazy mad like he did. Most of all, I was upset that he lied about our marriage. Something I would have treated as sacred. I couldn’t understand why he’d done it. Why hadn’t he told me a year ago? Why were we still married now?

Arriving at the vineyard, I instantly asked for work. I needed anything to keep my mind from thinking and remembering, as it often did, of how I met Cain here in this dimmed wine bar. I spent the day following any order given to me to exert pent up energy, even seizing the opportunity to push, roll, and pull items that would use physical strength. I’d never been an aggressive person, and I’d never been physically fit in a manner comparable to Cain, but I needed to do something with the negative energy vibrating within me. The labor was welcome, as it also helped me sleep that first night. My room was a reminder of how I’d spent weeks after his disappearance, holed up in this space, keeping quiet and alone, to process the misery of losing someone again. It was ridiculous to be upset, I finally convinced myself. I hadn’t lost what I didn’t own. I didn’t
know
Cain Callahan, who he was or what he’d done. Everything I learned came later.

The next evening was Friday and the wine bar was full. It wasn’t the electric energy of a campus bar, but more sedate and subtle, like the wine we served. The First Wives Club would return soon to commiserate another divorce, or celebrate, depending on who explained the story. They were rowdy, but not obnoxious, other than the night Cain had been present. For the most part, they kept to their group, knowing that the other celebrities of the establishment were on clandestine affairs or secret rendezvous, in hopes of avoiding spouses or paparazzi. For some, the visit to the vineyard was simply an escape, as it had been a year ago to world famous rock star, Arturo King, and the champion prizefighter, Cain Callahan.

Either way, I wasn’t fazed by the fame that crossed the threshold, nor the First Wives Club that gathered regularly. Once those who needed my attention were served, I wandered to the corner of the bar, where I kept my textbook open and tried to focus on the intriguing study of human anatomy. I had long passed Human Anatomy 101, but this higher-level course was further exploration of anatomy and disease. I’d reread the same paragraph five times, without recollection of a single word when someone in my peripheral vision sat at the opposite end of the bar and ordered a drink.

“Got anything stronger than this?” he commanded, and my head shot up in the direction of the deep voice I’d recognize anywhere.

I stared in disbelief, frozen against the bar where I leaned. He sat casually with his elbows braced on the edge, his hands clasped together over the counter. His smirk was that frustrating, flirtatious smile, but there was something in those dark eyes. A hesitation. A panic. They weren’t present the first time he used that line on me.

“I’d recommend the robust red…”

He held up a hand to stop me, and I knew the next line, but then he surprised me.

“The only thing red I want are those glasses on my nightstand and that t-shirt on my floor.”

My damn body betrayed me instantly, as my sex pulsed and I clenched, only worsening the rhythm that started to beat between my thighs. My brain was too slow to process he was really sitting at the end of the bar, but my body was on immediate overdrive.

I smoothed a hand down my skirt and stepped closer to where he sat. He hadn’t moved, but his demeanor wasn’t calm. Instinctively, I reached for Grandpa’s Passion, a hard liquor that was enough proof it didn’t register. Other than it being strong, I didn’t care what was in the alcohol at the moment. I poured Cain and I each two fingers’ worth. He tipped his glass to mine before I raised it.

“Are we really gonna do this?” I questioned. The path was the same. He was offered this drink, then the next thing he knew; we were married. Legally.

“Yep,” he said, throwing back the glass. He didn’t choke or sputter as he had the first time he took a sip of this potent concoction. He gently tapped the glass back on the bar and spoke.

“Whatcha reading?”

I had to laugh. His memory was incredible.

“
Inside My Body
,” I stated, and I watched as he swallowed hard. His eyes opened wide and he bit his lip to contain the surprise.

“Human anatomy?” he questioned, forcing me to remember my line. It’s what I’d been reading when we first met. This textbook was also human anatomy on a greater scale of detail.

“Yes,” I said, my voice breathless for some reason. He nodded once toward the stack of books.

“What else you got?” His lips curled slowly. His dark eyes darkened and twinkled in the dim light of reflecting candles throughout the room.

“
Your Body, My Body
,” I snarked, raising an eyebrow in jest. His smile grew and his lips twisted to prevent a laugh. He wasn’t accepting that the books I mentioned were real, especially not actual textbooks for my class.

“I see one more down there,” he said, implying the stack.

“
The Naked Body
,” I sputtered, as calmly as I could. His hand smacked the countertop and he sat back slightly. His shoulder hitched backward before he let out a laugh.

“God, I…” he stopped himself and the rough laughter died on his lips. I remained frozen behind the bar, my eyes not leaving his face. I wanted to know what he intended to say. I wanted him to complete the phrase. Instead, he cleared his throat.

“So where’s this Jacob dude?” he questioned, the atmosphere between us instantly changed to thick negativity instead of the playful energy of moments ago.

“He isn’t here,” I replied noncommittally, reaching for his glass and pouring in more of Grandpa’s Passion. I hadn’t even touched my own and Cain’s eyes fell to my glass on the bar.