“I wanted to stop in to see how things are today.”
“The floor is pretty much dry now. There was some product damage, but—”
“No,” he interrupts, “that’s not what I meant. How are you?”
I blink at him for a moment. “I’m fine.”
He steps to me, searching my face. “Did you sleep?”
“I slept fine.”
“Liar,” he whispers and drags his knuckles down my cheek, making me tingle in a purely feminine way. And I’m still not bombarded by his emotions and thoughts.
It’s just his warm touch, and my femininity responding to it.
Fascinating.
“I didn’t sleep at all,” I reply with a whisper.
“Why?”
I cock a brow and pull myself together before I embarrass us both and climb him like a tree. “I might have a few things on my mind.”
“Not sleeping won’t solve it,” he replies and tucks my hair behind my ear. “I’ll put in a claim with the insurance company tomorrow, but in the meantime, I’ll pay for anything that was ruined.”
“Thank you.”
His lips twitch with humor, and I lick mine in response.
“Let me take you out to dinner tonight.”
“Oh, well—”
“Yes,” Lena calls from the other room, “she’ll be there!”
Beau chuckles and I smile, shaking my head.
“You won’t be there?” he asks.
“Yes, she will!” Lena yells again.
“Shut it,” I say, not taking my eyes off of Beau. “Not you, her.”
He nods and smiles, and my knees turn to Jell-O. What am I, sixteen?
“I’ll be working until about six.”
“Well, that’s convenient because I live very close by.”
He’s flirting with me. Beau Boudreaux is fucking flirting with me.
“Really?” My eyes widen, playing along. “That is convenient.”
“So, I can pick you up at 6:30?”
I bite my lip and nod. “Sure.”
“Great.” The smile hasn’t left his face. Beau’s smile should be illegal. “I’ll see you this evening.”
He leans in and kisses my cheek, then turns and waves at Lena as he leaves the shop.
“Holy. Shit.” Lena says and props her hands on her hips. “If you don’t go out with that man, I will put a hex on you.”
“No, you won’t,” I reply with a laugh.
“Okay, I won’t, but I will not speak to you for at least a month.”
“You won’t do that either.” I flip the sign on the door to OPEN and walk behind the sales counter. “Besides, I just told him I’d go.”
“Don’t bail,” she says seriously. “He’s not just attractive. Attractive might be the understatement of the century.”
Well, she has me there.
“What are you going to wear tonight?”
I frown. “What I’m wearing right now. I won’t have time to go home.”
“I’ll go to your place to get you something sexier.” She taps her forefinger to her lips, looking me over. “That’s a great work outfit, but it doesn’t really scream push me against the wall and do me.”
“Well, that’s a relief.” I laugh and rub the back of my neck. “It’s the first date. The chances of him making it to home base are slim to none.”
“If a man who looked like that wanted to take me out, it would be my mission in life to get his pants off of him.”
“Speaking of, who were you with last night?”
She frowns. “I told you, you don’t know him. And no, he didn’t look like Beau at all.”
“Nobody looks like Beau.”
“I really feel like it’s your duty for your fellow women to have sex with Beau and then write an ode to it.”
“You’re stupid,” I reply, giggling. “I can’t write.”
“Oh, I think he’d inspire a limerick or two,” she says with a sigh. “I know! Let’s read your cards!”
“No.” I shake my head and begin checking stock, making a list of what I need to pull from back stock.
Ignoring me completely, Lena retrieves her tarot cards from her handbag and sets them on the counter.
“Cut them.”
“No.”
“It won’t be as accurate if I cut them,” she says with a huff.
“We’re not doing this,” I reply. “You know I don’t like tarot.”
“Fine.” She sighs and begins turning the cards over anyway. “Hmm.”
I don’t want to know the future. That’s one thing I can’t read, and I don’t want to. I’m happy to live in the present, and let life happen.
I haven’t had my cards read since I was a teenager.
“This is interesting.”
“Shut it,” I reply. “I don’t want to know.”
“It’s not bad.”
“No means no, Lena.”
“Fine,” she says again and gathers the cards back into a stack and stashes them in her handbag. “I want you to have fun tonight, Mal. You deserve it.”
“Well, I guess we’ll see how it goes.”
She smiles and wraps her arm around my shoulders, and the familiar love and affection wraps around me like it always does when Lena touches me. “Bang him.”
“No,” I giggle. “But if I do, you’ll be the first to know.”
“Hey. Go big or go home, that’s what I say,” she says.
“Why do people say that? What’s wrong with going home? I like it at home.”
“Well, if you go home, take Beau with you.”
***
“She brought me this?”
I stare at myself in the mirror and frown. I know for a fact this didn’t come from my closet. She was sneaky and cut the tags off, but this is not my dress.
I would never pick it out for myself.
It’s a simple black wrap dress, with a deep V neckline that shows off the girls and makes me want to reach for a scarf, but I don’t have one, and Lena didn’t include one on purpose.
She did bring my favorite red heels to go with it, and while I’ll admit the dress makes me look curvy and pretty, I’m showing way more skin than I’m comfortable with.
Which was exactly her intention.
If I didn’t love her so much, I’d strangle her.
I sigh and smooth my favorite raspberry lipstick on and stare at myself in the mirror.
I clean up nicely.
Suddenly, there’s a soft knock on the door, and there’s Beau, peering in at me with a smile and a fist full of bright blue forget me nots.
Not roses. Forget me nots.
“Hi,” I say when I open the door. “I just have to grab my bag.”
“You’re stunning,” he says before I can turn away. His eyes move from the crown of my head to my red shoes and back up again. “These are for you.”
“Thank you.” I fuss over the flowers for a moment and smile up at him. “How did you know these are my favorite?”
He blinks rapidly. “I didn’t. They’re my favorite, and more personal than roses.”
After putting the flowers in a vase, I grab my bag and Beau leads us out of the shop, and waits for me to lock the door.
He takes my arm to guide me to his car, and I stiffen, like I always do when being touched, but it passes quickly.
“You’re getting better,” he murmurs as he opens my door.
“At what?”
“Letting me touch you,” he replies, then slams the door and walks around the car to join me. He doesn’t ask any questions, or even mention it again, as he drives out of the Quarter. Once on the freeway, he reaches over and takes my hand in his, kisses my knuckles, and smiles over at me. “It’s not far.”
I nod, but all I can think is, it could be in Florida for all I care, as long as we sit here in the dark, my hand in his. God, it feels good to be touched! I’ve lived without it for so long, I’ve forgotten how soothing it is.
But soon he exits the f
reeway and pulls up to a hole in the wall BBQ place.
“I hope you eat meat.”
“I do.” I smile and my stomach growls loudly. “I just realized that I haven’t eaten much today.”
“Well, let’s fix that,” he says as he exits the car and walks around to my door, ever the gentleman.
I’m sure manners were ingrained in him from day one. Or, they’re just genetically there, given how wealthy he is and who his family is.
Bringing me to the BBQ place is a happy surprise, but I’m grossly over dressed for it.
“Why are you frowning?” He asks and takes my hand again, lacing our fingers, as we walk to the door.
“I think I’m overdressed for BBQ.”
“You could wear that dress to the supermarket and it would be appropriate,” he says, smiling down at me.
“Right.” I laugh. “I hope they have bibs.”
“Covering you up would be a shame,” he says as the hostess greets us and shows us to our table. I’m careful not to touch her hand as she passes me a menu.
“Molly will be your server,” she says with a smile and walks away.
“So who hurt you?” Beau asks, as casually as if he’s asking about the weather.
“Excuse me?” He’s staring at his menu, and he sets his jaw as he raises his gaze to mine.
“Who hurt you?”
“Why do you assume I’ve been hurt?”
“I know the signs,” he replies softly, sets his menu aside, and takes my hand in his. “I know someone else who was hurt, and has issues with being touched.”
“Oh.” I sigh and glance down at the lit candle on the table, at a loss for what to say. For how much to say.
“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” he says and squeezes my fingers. I glance up, and rather than distain or distrust in his eyes, I see genuine concern, and it only makes me like him more.
“I wasn’t hurt,” I reply honestly. “And I’d like to leave it at that for right now.”
“That’s fair,” he says with a nod. “We’ll talk about deeper things another time.”
I cock a brow. “Another time? That implies that this won’t be the only date.”
“Oh, this is definitely not the only date,” he says with a wink. “Not by a long shot.”
Chapter Four
~Mallory~
Dinner has been…fascinating. Beau is ever the gentleman, with those inbred manners showing through all evening, and when he looks at me, those hazel eyes burn in a way I don’t think I’ve ever seen before.
In the best way possible.
Like he’d rather be devouring me, rather than the ribs on his plate.
He’s asked me dozens of questions about the shop, my family—which I avoid—and my taste in movies and music.
“I feel like I’ve talked your ears off,” I say as the waitress takes our empty plates away. I can’t help but be a bit disappointed that dinner is coming to an end already. “What about you?”
“What about me?” he asks and slips his credit card in the folder holding our check. The waitress takes it from him with a smile.
He’s damn hot.
I blink at the thought, realizing that it’s not mine, it’s hers.
She’s not wrong. He is hot.
And he’s with me.
I’m not a jealous woman, but that might have colored me a bit green.
“Mal?” Beau says with a smile.
“Yes?”
“What would you like to know?” He reaches across the table and takes my hand, and I’m suddenly calm, just like all the other times he’s touched me. I take a deep breath and look into his eyes, which are pinned to mine, not the waitress.
Just remember that. He’s here with me.
“What’s new and exciting in your life?”
“Besides the gorgeous woman I talked into going to dinner with me?” His smile is smug, and he makes me chuckle.
“Are you meeting up with her later?” Yes, I’m totally flirting with him. It’s damn fun.
He just shakes his head and smiles, that crazy hot grin that makes my nipples perk right up and the rest of me tighten.
I’m so not used to all of this sexual chemistry.
“Well, work certainly isn’t new and exciting,” he begins and signs his name to the check, then sets it aside and takes my hand again. I can feel myself relaxing with him, trusting his touch.
It’s the first time in my life that I’ve been able to trust physical touch, and I’m soaking it in like a sponge.
“Do you enjoy what you do?” I ask him and brace my chin in the hand he isn’t holding.
“Very much,” he says with a nod. “It was always expected that I’d take over the company with my siblings, but it wasn’t something I dreaded. My father made sure that we all spent time in the offices in the summer, working part time. I always knew that I wanted to be a part of Bayou Enterprises. It’s several generations old, and it’s something to be proud of.”
“Absolutely,” I agree with a nod. “That’s a wonderful legacy. Are you a workaholic?”
He tilts his head and purses those full lips, as though he’s genuinely pondering the answer.
“I can be,” he finally says. “There’s a lot of responsibility that Eli, Van, and I all carry, but it’s not a burden.”
“That’s great. What do you enjoy doing besides working and jogging?”
“I don’t really enjoy the jogging,” he says with a laugh. “But I do enjoy southern food, so the jogging is a must.”
“It seems to be working,” I say, then feel my eyes widen in horror as I realize that I’ve said it out loud.
“Why do you look mortified?” he asks.
“Because I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”
“Mal, we’re attracted to each other. It’s okay to admit it.”
“I’ll be honest,” I reply and pull my hand out of his, not wanting to touch him while being completely vulnerable with him. “I don’t date a lot.”
“Okay.”
My gaze whips up to his. “Okay?”
“As long as you date me a lot, I don’t care who else you’ve dated.”
“What I’m trying to say,” I reply, trying to ignore the enormous butterflies that just started doing the rhumba in my stomach, “that I don’t have a lot of experience with dating. I’m not entirely innocent.” I shake my head, disgusted with myself, and the way my tongue is all tangled and not explaining this the way I want.
Suddenly, he takes my hand again and smiles widely.
“Take a deep breath.”
I comply.
“Now, start over.”
“You’re very patient.”
“No. Not typically. But you seem to bring out some good qualities in me. Please, go on.”
How in the bloody hell am I supposed to remember what I was trying to say when he goes and says sweet things like that?
“You were saying something about not being innocent,” he prompts, listening avidly.
“Right,” I say and nod. “I’m not. Innocent, that is. But I also don’t date often, and I don’t know the rules of this game. I don’t know what I’m supposed to say, or when to say it.”
“This isn’t a game,” he says simply. “I didn’t invite you here tonight on a whim, Mallory. We’re here because I wanted to be here with you. I’m attracted to you, both physically and intellectually, and I want to spend time with you. I don’t want you to censor yourself. If you have something to say, say it.”
“Well, that’s easy.”
“Is it?” He cocks a brow. “Being honest isn’t easy for everyone.”
“I’m not a liar,” I reply without any anger. It’s a simple statement. “But there are some things that I’m just not ready to talk about.”
“As there should be,” he says. “You hardly know me.”
“Exactly.” I smile and glance down at my watch. “We’ve been here for three hours!”
“Time flies when
you’re with a beautiful woman,” Beau replies and stands, holding his hand out for mine. “Shall we?”
“I suppose we shall.”
We walk out to his car silently, both of us lost in our own thoughts as he heads back toward the city.
But rather than take the exit to the French Quarter, he keeps going.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“I want to show you something, if you don’t mind.”
I glance over at him, his face cast in shadows, then in the full glow of the lights of the freeway. He’s simply stunning, and I don’t say that easily. His dark hair is a bit long, brushed back off of his face in a clean style. He’s also clean shaven, with a strong, angular jawline and the kind of lips that were made to be kissed.
“You’re awful quiet,” he murmurs. “I can take you back to the shop if you’d rather. But I’m not quite ready to say goodnight yet.”
Be honest. This isn’t a game.
“I’d like to see whatever you want to show me,” I reply softly and sit back, enjoying the sparkle of the city as we drive through it.
Finally, he exits the freeway, driving through a beautiful, older neighborhood with grand homes. “Is this near Audubon Park?”
“It is,” he says with a smile, and I turn my head to look out the window, suddenly very nervous. This is an old neighborhood in New Orleans, which means there will be many energies here.
I take a deep breath and pull all of my defenses around me, mentally preparing for what is surely going to be an onslaught of energy.
Beau glances my way, frowning, but doesn’t say anything as he pulls into a driveway, punches a code into the gate, and drives through.
“What is this place?” I ask.
“My house,” he says with a smile. “It’s currently under construction, but I wanted to show it to you.”
“You’re renovating?”
Fuck. Renovating old places makes them more active paranormally, which means I don’t want to go in there. Not tonight.
“No, I’m building it from scratch.” He parks in front of a beautiful home with scaffolding around it. “I bought the property with an old house on it, but it was in such disrepair it made more sense to tear it down and start over.”
Okay, this might not be so bad. Ridding the area of the old building and starting new is different than renovating. It’s usually like starting with a clean slate.