Paradise Found: Cain (Paradise #2)(36)

“I’m married,” I whispered, closing my eyes to her glare. I opened my lids slowly to find her shaking her head. In fact, her arms shook as well.

“We’re divorced,” she spat through clenched teeth.

“We aren’t,” I sighed. The words were slowly drifting to the floor. I watched them fall, as if they were to be trampled any moment by her retreat.

“What? Never mind,” she stumbled from one thought to the next. One idea was perfectly clear to her, though. “You lying, unfaithful bastard.” Spoken so calmly, it frightened me more than the edge to her voice moments ago.

“I … it’s been over a year … and you haven’t …”

“If I’m still your wife, you’d rather slink off to have sex with someone other than me?”

“Sex? With my wife?” I stammered, then staggered with the force of her words. “You want to have sex? You know I'm dying to make love to you. Let's do it now, if you'd like,” I snarled, mixed with a hiss of both disgust and desire. I ripped my t-shirt aggressively over my head and my hands came to the button of my pants.

“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.