“Yes.”
“And were you here, saying nice things and sweeping my hair off of my face?”
“That was also me,” he replies.
“And Lena was here too.”
“Yes.”
“I thought I’d dreamed it all. What time is it?”
“It’s about midnight.”
I sit up and stare at him in the moonlight, open-mouthed. “Midnight on Wednesday?”
“You slept all day, Mal.”
“Damn, I lost a whole day.” I shake my head, relieved that it’s finally clearing.
“Have some water.” He hands me a cold bottle of water and I greedily drink half of the bottle down. “How do you feel?”
“Better,” I reply and pass the bottle back to him. “It was a weird sleep.”
“Tell me about it. I’ve never seen anyone have nightmares like that.”
And just like that, it comes flooding back to me. Being whipped, raped, thrown off of a cliff. Grandmamma’s voice, but not being able to see her.
“Oh, I’m glad that’s over,” I mumble and bury my face in Beau’s thigh.
“What happened, exactly?” He asks quietly, still brushing his fingers through my hair.
“Well, I guess the séance, and having so many active spirits around me, opening myself up so completely, took a toll on me. I’ve never done it like that before. I was too young before, so I always observed. I’m glad I thought to invite Lena so she could be an anchor.”
“Do you plan to do this often?” he asks, his voice deceptively calm.
“No,” I reply and pull his hand to my lips so I can kiss his palm. “I don’t plan to do it often at all. I didn’t like the way it made me feel, and I think I opened myself up too widely. It could have been dangerous.”
And there was someone else there at the end, and I still don’t know who, but they weren’t friendly.
They were scary. Dangerous.
Not that I’m going to tell Beau that.
I really don’t want to talk about psychics or spirits or any of that anymore. I’ve talked about it more in the past three days than I have in the past ten years combined.
And I’m sick of it.
“How was your day?” I ask.
“It was fine.” He shifts, urging me onto my back so he can look down at me. “Why do you ask?”
“Because I want to stop talking about me and talk about you. What did you do today?”
He tips his head to the side, as if he’s trying to figure me out, but then he starts talking. Lord Jesus, how I love the sound of this man’s voice. It’s deep, and his New Orleans drawl is laced through it beautifully.
I hardly notice the drawl, given that I have one of my own and I’ve lived here forever, but in Beau’s case, you can’t not recognize it. It’s as sexy as the rest of him.
“I was here, at your place, and I did some work. Lena stopped by to check on you.”
“What kind of work did you do?” I ask, keeping the subject on him.
“I spoke with a high ranking official in Japan who is interested in having Bayou Enterprises build him several yachts for his private fleet, and then I looked over some staffing issues in the yard.”
“In my yard?” I ask around a wide yawn.
“No,” he says with a smile and leans down to kiss my cheek. “At the shipyard, where the boats are built.”
“I’ve never been on a boat.” Beau’s eyes widen. “Does that surprise you?”
“You lived in the bayou.”
“And didn’t need to be on a boat to avoid the critters.” I smile and cup his cheek. I love touching him.
“Well, I think we should get you on your first boat.”
“In the bayou? Like, on one of those swamp tours?”
He laughs, and it flows over me like a salve, healing the remnants of the nightmares.
“I was thinking of something a bit more…well, substantial.”
“Bigger?”
“Yes.”
I smile up at him. “Okay, you choose the boat and I’ll go on it.”
“You’re very easygoing,” he remarks as he drags his fingertips up and down my arm, giving me goosebumps.
“Not always.” I shrug. “But I trust you.”
Please don’t make me regret trusting you.
“Thank you.” He kisses my hand. “Now, what can we do for you? Shower?”
“I have been sweating.” My clothes are sticky, and I don’t smell fantastic. “Give me fifteen minutes?”
“Take as long as you need,” he says and returns to his laptop. “I’m finishing up some business.”
I nod and walk to the bathroom, stripping out of my clothes on the way, unfazed by Beau being here to watch me. He’s seen me naked. I have nothing to hide from him now.
But I toss a sassy look over my shoulder, and he’s watching me avidly.
Which does amazing things for my ego.
I turn on the shower and gather a towel, washrag, and some clean pajamas, then step into the hot water and sigh in happiness. It feels damn good to wash away the rest of the bad dreams.
Someone else’s bad memories.
I let the hot water hit my back for a few extra moments after I’ve finished washing myself, then turn it off and go to grab my towel, but it’s missing.
“Beau?” I call out, just as he walks through the doorway, holding my towel.
“Sorry, I tried to be quick.” He holds the towel out and I walk into it, feeling the heat coming off it as he wraps it around me. “I put it in the dryer so it would be warm for you.”
“Are you human?” I ask and let him pat me down. When I’m dry, he wraps his arms around me, and gives me the best, strongest hug I’ve had in years.
“Flesh and bone,” he replies softly. “Did that help?”
“The shower or you?”
“Both.”
“Yes,” I smile up at him. He’s so much taller than me, and when he holds me like this, he makes me feel safe.
And very turned on. I’m surprised I have enough energy to feel this turned on, but Beau’s sexy as fuck body is pressed against mine, and well, I’m a red-blooded woman, after all.
“What are you thinking?” he asks as his hands glide down my back to my ass.
“You feel good.”
I can feel him smile against the top of my head.
“Do you want to watch TV?” he asks. I shake my head no. “Do you want to talk some more?” Again, I shake my head no. “Hmm.”
“What ever shall we do?” I ask and bat my eyelashes up at him, enjoying this little flirty moment, and suddenly I’m in his arms. He’s carrying me back to the bed, Rhett Butler style.
“I have an idea,” he says with a sexy grin.
“You do?”
“Oh yeah.”
“A card game?” I ask and giggle when he drops me onto the bed, my towel falling off, leaving me stark-ass naked.
“Not much of a gambler,” he says, his eyes raking over me as if he’s starving and I’m his favorite entrée.
“Hmm, would you like to—”
“Why don’t I just show you what I want?”
“I’m really a show-don’t-tell kind of girl,” I reply and gasp when he grabs my ankle and yanks me to the edge of the bed, my ass almost hanging off the side. He sinks to his knees, presses my thighs open wide, and lays wet kisses on the sensitive skin that leads to my core, licking and nibbling all the way, until he can circle my clit with his tongue.
“Holy shit,” I groan and collapse back, my hips arching, searching for more of his mouth. He shifts his hands to my hips, and he holds on as I go crazy, grinding myself on his face, soaking in every quiver, every amazing feeling that he’s giving me.
So this is what all the fuss is about!
He licks down to my lips, and then he groans as he kisses me intimately, making me come apart at the seams, thrashing about like a wild woman, unable to control myself.
I’m still quivering when he kisses his
way up my stomach, between my breasts and up my neck. Finally, he kisses me on the mouth and I can taste myself there, which only turns me on more.
“You’re amazing,” he whispers against my mouth.
“Let me return the favor.”
“Oh no,” he says, shaking his head slowly side to side. “Tonight is all about you.”
“Okay, I want you to let me return the favor.”
He chuckles. “Sorry, sugar, but that’s one wish I can’t grant. I’m taking care of you. We have plenty of time ahead of us for you to do me any favors you like. But not tonight.”
Where did this guy come from? He’s true to his word. Now that I’ve had the most amazing orgasm of my life, he lathers me up with my favorite lotion, helps me into my usual sleep attire of a clean tank top and panties, then undresses himself and slips into bed with me.
He pulls me against him and kisses my head. “Are you tired?”
“I shouldn’t be,” I reply. “I slept for about twenty-four hours. But yeah, you wore me out.”
“Better me than anything else,” he says with a smile and reaches over to turn off the side light. “Sleep, Mallory. I’m right here.”
“Okay.” I take a deep breath, reveling in his arms wrapped securely around me, and I know that I won’t dream at all tonight.
And I have Beau to thank for that.
***
We’ve spent the better part of the past week together. Whenever we weren’t at work, we’ve been at either my place or his, always spending the night at mine. I should offer him some closet and drawer space at my house, but I don’t want to jinx it.
I’m falling in love with this man. I’m nowhere close to being ready to tell him that, but I feel it. He knows all about me, and he accepts it all. Not to mention, he’s amazing in bed, and he makes me laugh like crazy.
It’s Monday, my first full day off since my snooze fest last week. Beau has decided to start taking Mondays off as well, and I have a feeling his family and colleagues are all completely flummoxed by this new development.
Beau is a self-proclaimed workaholic. But maybe it’s doing him good to keep a more normal schedule, and to spend time with me.
I hope that’s the case because I love all of the time he gives me. I don’t take one minute of it for granted.
“Wow, they’ve come a long way.” We pull up to Beau’s new house, and I’m stunned to see that the outside has all been painted, making it look like he could move in at any moment.
“Yes, there has been a lot of progress this week. It’s funny because it goes in spurts.” We both exit the car, and instead of leading me into the house, he takes my hand and guides me around to the back of the house. “Some weeks it feels like nothing changes, and then others, BOOM! Everything changes and it feels like it’s almost done.”
“It looks fantastic. I like the soft butter yellow color you chose for the outside.”
“Thanks.” He flashes me his sexy grin. “Now, I need your input on something back here.”
“Okay. What’s up?”
“Where should I plant the rose garden and the herb and vegetable garden?”
I stare at him like he’s just asked me to explain the Pythagorean theorem.
“Excuse me?”
He takes my hand and leads me farther into the backyard.
“I have landscapers coming tomorrow, and I need to finalize where I want my gardens to go. What do you think?”
“I’m not sure why you’re asking me. I kill everything, Beau.”
He stops and stares back at me. “Everything?”
“Well, if it has roots, it probably isn’t going to survive if I’m around. I forget to water and feed everything, including myself sometimes.”
“But you sell herbs in your botanical shop.”
“Yes, and I buy them from someone else who has grown them.” I shake my head and laugh, wandering around the yard, that at this moment is just brown dirt and weeds. “Besides, aren’t you going to hire a gardener?”
“No. I’ll hire groundskeepers to come mow and keep the grass looking good, but I plan to tend to the gardens myself.”
“I thought billionaires hired people to do this stuff.”
He smirks. “And I thought botanical shop owners grew their own botanicals.”
“Touché.” I laugh again, and then trip in a hole, falling on my ass. “That’s gonna leave a mark.”
“Are you okay?”
“Oh yeah, I just—”
Before I can say more, he falls on top of me, pinning me to the ground, and kisses me in that way he does that makes my knees weak and my heart beat faster.
It’s a good thing I’m already on the ground.
“You never stop surprising me, Mallory.”
“That’s the plan,” I reply with a wink. “I have to keep you on your toes.”
“It’s working,” he replies and helps me stand. “Okay, so I’m going to be the green thumb in this relationship. I can live with that. But at least show me where you think we should put the gardens.”
I look around, not having the slightest clue what should go where.
“Why do you want my opinion?”
“Because if I get my way, and I usually do, you’ll be spending some time here with me. And I value your opinion.”
And there he goes, being all sweet and wonderful again.
How is this man single?
Women are clearly dumb.
“Okay, I think the herbs and veggies should be closer to the house because you might want to run out to clip some oregano, or grab a cucumber for the salad and whatnot.”
“Smart,” he says, nodding. “I like it. Okay, vegetable garden should be over here.” He’s gesturing with his hands, his whiskey eyes lit up with excitement.
He loves this home.
And that makes me happy for him.
“Now, roses need to be in the sunshine,” he says and wanders away from me toward the middle of the yard. “This is really the most well-lit part of the property. I’m thinking six feet by eight feet.”
“How many bushes are you planting?” I ask, getting into the spirit of things.
“Six. That’s always been a good number for my family.”
“That will give them plenty of room to establish their roots and grow.”
He smiles at me like he just couldn’t be more proud. “And you claim to not be a flower person.”
“I like flowers,” I clarify. “I just can’t be trusted to grow them.”
“We’ll see about that,” he says. “If you wouldn’t hate it, you can help me, and I can teach you. It’s really easier than you think.”
“I wouldn’t hate it.”
He picks up a shovel and begins to dig, just a little bit, as if he’s outlining the area for the roses. During the third time of shoving the shovel into the dirt, he unearths a bone. His gaze whips to mine.
“I sure hope this is someone’s beloved pet, and not their beloved family member.”
I’ve kept my shields up since the night of the séance, and I’ve been doing a good job of blocking any unwanted feelings and emotions. But I crack the door, just for a moment, concentrating on the bone.
“It’s a dog,” I reply and slam the door shut again. “Not human.”
His eyes squint as he watches me for a moment. “You okay?”
“Yes.” I nod. “I’m great, actually. And you don’t have to have the county shut down your construction while they investigate those bones.”
“Thank God,” he says and walks to me. “You’re handy to have around.”
“Well, I’m so happy that you think so.” He’s advancing quickly, mischief written all over his handsome face, and I begin to walk backward away from him. “What are you planning to do?”
“Whatever do you mean?”
“You’re not fooling me. You’re going to—”
And before I can say or do anything, he’s smearing his dirty hands down my cheeks and laughing like a kid.
“Got you.”
“This dirt touched a decomposing dog,” I remind him and wipe my cheek on my sleeve.
“Well, that’s not a good way to think of it.”
“Is there a good way to think about dirt being all over my face?” I demand.
“Well, it could be worse. It could be mud.”
“You’re going to pay for this.”
“Oh, sugar, I hope so. I truly hope so.”
Chapter Ten
~Mallory~
“I think we need to talk about this,” Lena says a few days later as we sit in my living room and eat ice cream, waiting for our favorite show to come on.
“I don’t see what there is to talk about,” I reply and squirt more whipped cream into my bowl. A girl can never have too much whipped cream.
“Seriously?” She lowers her spoon and stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. “I think we need to talk about everything.”
“I think you’re being dramatic,” I reply and wither just a bit under her ice-cold glare. “Right, because you’re never dramatic?”
“I’m not being dramatic about this. My Nana wouldn’t say so either, and I know damn well that if Miss Olivia was alive, she’d think it was a big deal.”
“Well, she’s not alive.” And oh, how that still hurts!
“You’re a stubborn ass,” she says, as if that’s going to hurt my feelings in the least.
Because it doesn’t.
“Look, I’ve been fine since the séance, Lena. Sure, it wiped me out for about twenty-four hours, but I’m fine now. No weird things have been happening.”
“Weird as in a living person breaking into your thoughts the way they did that night? Because that wasn’t normal, Mal. I’ve only ever heard of that happening with your grandmother, and you know it.”
“It’s never happened before.”
“That doesn’t mean it won’t happen again.”
“What do you want me to do?” I stand and pace my living room. “I’ve got everything locked down as tight as I possibly can, and you know that I’ve never been able to lock it down completely. But I’m not seeing anything right now. I haven’t even seen Miss Louisa at the shop, although I think she’s still mad at me from that night at Beau’s.”
“Do you hear yourself? The spirit is mad at you.”